Before you read this, I want to put a little disclaimer on this piece of fiction. Not sure where it came from, or what it is, besides a work of fiction. I started writing about an idea I had for a story, and this came out. I don’t like it, it seems confusing and pointless, like a cheap hooker 
trying to be mysterious. Regardless, I would rather post this story than admit to myself that I just wasted a good two hours of my time precious time. So with no further torture, try to enjoy the metaphor
A slender yet strangely solid man runs through a dense woodland passage. He runs with a determination, face flashing a strong resolve as think as blood. The same thickness mixes with sweat and drips from his brow. He continues to run towards his vision. The world around
becomes a blur. He longs for nothing but distance from its deathly stale smell; its deceptive glare; the hardness of its embrace. “It doesn’t matter any more”, he mutters to himself in a smooth commanding tone, “None of it matters”. None if it, not the approaching bluish moon slowly being reviled as the sun retreats behind the horizon, nor the songs of the crickets that seek to claim nights silent state. When he gets tired of running, he jogs, but he never stops. When his legs begin cramping to the point where muscles seem like they will tear through flesh, he slows, but doesn't stop. Instead he clenches his jaw and keeps on keeping on, for he can’t stop. He can’t sit. He can’t rest.
Rest…. The idea appears to his mind as beautiful as the angle Gabriel. It calls to him with faint whispers. He wants to listen, but he fears another voices will affect his pace. A voice that asks no one to speak yet silences many. His ears honed in on the voice; his eyes become sharp swords as he scans for an attack. The voice calls for him again but he sees know one. It calls at him like a female dog barking in heat. He knows this sound for he was once in this snare. Odd, it
would seem his memories were betraying him. What was once as clear as crystal was now met with a foggy mist, such that clings to the windshield in the early morning?
Lethargy was what he called her, but never did he remember her seeming so sweet. He continued on pace through the ever darkening woods towards the bluish hue that spread out over rolling plains. His running was towards the embodiment of his dreams. Still, rest had not given up her sweet smooth speech; still she softly invited him to her soft featherlike embrace. The voice was peaceful and just hearing it brought out a powerful sigh from the depths of his lungs. Then his abdomen tightened as the one he knew as Lethargy resumed her song. Her voice was also sweet, but not soft like that of Rest. Her tone was powerful like Rest, but it was not peaceful. Rest’s call was like a babbling brook under a hot summer sun. But Rest’s sisters darker words were eerily appealing with their slight echo that enhanced her voice. She didn’t sing like Rest, but instead she summoned like the sirens. Whose’ purposes were also
similar, persuading people to linger longer then they aught, thus causing their destruction. The saddened sweet voice seemed quite powerful. Yet its empathy cry was like that of Orpheus, whose bodiless head cried out for his Eurydice's even as it floated away down the Hades stream. “No more talk of water”, he said to himself in a condescending way. It had been such a hot summer. Waking up to run towards the dream in the morning, then coming home at night to Rest. As night approached and took back the land from day, our heroes resolve began to wane. He felt himself suddenly stumbling towards the soothing voice of Rest and the trance of Lethargy; it didn’t take long for him to find them, or maybe for them to find him. Before him were two beautiful delicate sisters shining like polished ivory as the cobalt blue moon cast shadows on their slender bodies. Separate cloth that shining of sharp silver covered both beauties, as they were anticipating his arrival. Rest approached and layers her soft hands on his shoulders. His eyes go shut, suddenly the eerie blue is no more.
His eyes opened as the blazing sun began to rise, revealing it’s hiding place behind the earths
graceful form. He plants his firm stance on the ground and begins to arise. But alas, he sees a beautify site near his resting place. It is Lethargy, her slender form kneels behind him and her touch causes his shoulders to droop. As he returns to the place that rest had once prepared for him, he now is able to see Lethargy face to face as she stared down at him. Her appearance is still like that of a Goddess, but the golden sun leaves shadow across her face.
trying to be mysterious. Regardless, I would rather post this story than admit to myself that I just wasted a good two hours of my time precious time. So with no further torture, try to enjoy the metaphorA slender yet strangely solid man runs through a dense woodland passage. He runs with a determination, face flashing a strong resolve as think as blood. The same thickness mixes with sweat and drips from his brow. He continues to run towards his vision. The world around
becomes a blur. He longs for nothing but distance from its deathly stale smell; its deceptive glare; the hardness of its embrace. “It doesn’t matter any more”, he mutters to himself in a smooth commanding tone, “None of it matters”. None if it, not the approaching bluish moon slowly being reviled as the sun retreats behind the horizon, nor the songs of the crickets that seek to claim nights silent state. When he gets tired of running, he jogs, but he never stops. When his legs begin cramping to the point where muscles seem like they will tear through flesh, he slows, but doesn't stop. Instead he clenches his jaw and keeps on keeping on, for he can’t stop. He can’t sit. He can’t rest.
Rest…. The idea appears to his mind as beautiful as the angle Gabriel. It calls to him with faint whispers. He wants to listen, but he fears another voices will affect his pace. A voice that asks no one to speak yet silences many. His ears honed in on the voice; his eyes become sharp swords as he scans for an attack. The voice calls for him again but he sees know one. It calls at him like a female dog barking in heat. He knows this sound for he was once in this snare. Odd, it
would seem his memories were betraying him. What was once as clear as crystal was now met with a foggy mist, such that clings to the windshield in the early morning?Lethargy was what he called her, but never did he remember her seeming so sweet. He continued on pace through the ever darkening woods towards the bluish hue that spread out over rolling plains. His running was towards the embodiment of his dreams. Still, rest had not given up her sweet smooth speech; still she softly invited him to her soft featherlike embrace. The voice was peaceful and just hearing it brought out a powerful sigh from the depths of his lungs. Then his abdomen tightened as the one he knew as Lethargy resumed her song. Her voice was also sweet, but not soft like that of Rest. Her tone was powerful like Rest, but it was not peaceful. Rest’s call was like a babbling brook under a hot summer sun. But Rest’s sisters darker words were eerily appealing with their slight echo that enhanced her voice. She didn’t sing like Rest, but instead she summoned like the sirens. Whose’ purposes were also
similar, persuading people to linger longer then they aught, thus causing their destruction. The saddened sweet voice seemed quite powerful. Yet its empathy cry was like that of Orpheus, whose bodiless head cried out for his Eurydice's even as it floated away down the Hades stream. “No more talk of water”, he said to himself in a condescending way. It had been such a hot summer. Waking up to run towards the dream in the morning, then coming home at night to Rest. As night approached and took back the land from day, our heroes resolve began to wane. He felt himself suddenly stumbling towards the soothing voice of Rest and the trance of Lethargy; it didn’t take long for him to find them, or maybe for them to find him. Before him were two beautiful delicate sisters shining like polished ivory as the cobalt blue moon cast shadows on their slender bodies. Separate cloth that shining of sharp silver covered both beauties, as they were anticipating his arrival. Rest approached and layers her soft hands on his shoulders. His eyes go shut, suddenly the eerie blue is no more.His eyes opened as the blazing sun began to rise, revealing it’s hiding place behind the earths
graceful form. He plants his firm stance on the ground and begins to arise. But alas, he sees a beautify site near his resting place. It is Lethargy, her slender form kneels behind him and her touch causes his shoulders to droop. As he returns to the place that rest had once prepared for him, he now is able to see Lethargy face to face as she stared down at him. Her appearance is still like that of a Goddess, but the golden sun leaves shadow across her face. Her eyes do not display the look of motherly concern like earths did. These eyes are solid black, and seem to reflect everything around them. The fiery ball that floats in the sky blasts raise of rejuvenation over Him, but it does not matter. He can see his reflection off Lethargy’s dark stare. As his eyes close and his mind retreats, he mutters curses under his breath. His eyes shut, and what once were broad arms now resemble lead weights. What was once strong legs now are heavy burdens that ignore his 
command? Each morning he tries to rise and each morning she gently pushes him back down. As he ages, he remembers her half cocked smile, and her cold stare. Every morning she looks over his face. Each day he remembers a little bit less, and each time the day seems a little darker. Finally after habit has set in, he forgets who he is and what he was chasing. Lethargy leaves, she is no longer needed. He has lost his pace and forgotten his goals. The worse part is he forgot where he came from, and so he could not see where he was going. Lethargy may be at work in some of you too. It doesn’t have to be lethargy though. It can be Pride, or addiction. Perhaps fear or loneliness holds you down. For me it is lethargy, sloth. What makes it so much harder is I know the truth. If you allow yourself to be distracted by the little insignificant things that everybody else is distracted by, you will never rise like the rest, you will never get up and continue the quest, you will have sacrificed what some consider the best.
command? Each morning he tries to rise and each morning she gently pushes him back down. As he ages, he remembers her half cocked smile, and her cold stare. Every morning she looks over his face. Each day he remembers a little bit less, and each time the day seems a little darker. Finally after habit has set in, he forgets who he is and what he was chasing. Lethargy leaves, she is no longer needed. He has lost his pace and forgotten his goals. The worse part is he forgot where he came from, and so he could not see where he was going. Lethargy may be at work in some of you too. It doesn’t have to be lethargy though. It can be Pride, or addiction. Perhaps fear or loneliness holds you down. For me it is lethargy, sloth. What makes it so much harder is I know the truth. If you allow yourself to be distracted by the little insignificant things that everybody else is distracted by, you will never rise like the rest, you will never get up and continue the quest, you will have sacrificed what some consider the best. 
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