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Ivan by Acatalepteron
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Ivan trudged on over the rocks. It was probably pretty
cold right now he figured, but Ivan didn't much notice the cold
anymore. He just thought about Him. It was sort of a slow burning kind
of feeling. The kind that Ivan figured wouldn't go away so easy. Ivan
had stopped thinking about pretty much everything else by now. Of
course he knew it was cold. Really cold. Not the soft, white,
Christmassy cold. That kind of cold was almost warm. This wasn't soft
or white, it was just cold and dry and hard. The rocks were hard and
cold and dry, and the dry leaves made a hard, cold noise as they
skittered along. Ivan knew this, he just didn't worry about the cold
anymore.
Ivan looked off at the horizon. He saw a little speck
of light. For a moment, he paused. He had seen light like that before,
he thought. He always thought about that when he saw lights on the
horizon. He wasn't really sure any more. If he had seen them before,
it must have been so long ago. It all seemed fogy. Sometimes he would
stand, leaning on his stick for hours, staring at the light. Sometimes
he even thought about going closer. He would push back into his mind,
looking for the light somewhere in there. But it was always fogy. So
long ago.
It didn't much matter anyway. The trail never lead
Ivan towards the light. Sometimes it would look like he might finally
be getting there; like the trail might be going in the right direction
at last, but it never was.
A couple times Ivan almost lost the trail. Those were
the only times he could remember getting really worried, but he would
always find another foot print and set off again. Ivan had to keep
following Him. Ivan knew that. Sometimes Ivan tried to look back, and
figure out why, but it was too foggy, and it made his head hurt, so he
stopped.
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6.2006
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