‘The black sheep’ they called him. They screamed hysterically and mumbled obscenities as he came into range. Tongues wagged and eyes blazed as he approached. Whispers echoed in the echelons of his conscious. He walked on biting the bullet and swallowing the bitter pill with all the stoic he could muster. ‘Always keep death in mind’ he told himself as he walked on towards a better view. Every step he took brought him closer and closer to the fear that echoed in people’s minds. ‘Isn’t he the one? Look at him now!’ Like excerpts from classic literature and blurbs on a book cover the paranoid paraphrases stabbed at his innards with malicious intent. The scrambled schizoid sentences cut like a scythe as they slice zig-zigzagged across his soul.
He walks on. Never talking, justs keep walking…
