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I'm a writer, here's what I wrote. It's a small bit of bidness about someone taking a hike. I'll decide winner for best sketch.
Wind at my back pushes me further along the cobbled path. It is one less walked but somehow so familiar. With each step the air clears a little more. Further and further until the dust pulls back and blankets the hell I'd left. Here the water is clean and the grass is soft. Here the horns are chirps and the animals are wild. Here I belonged.
My legs still burned from the hike to this place and my chest even more so. A violent cough brought smoke from my lungs and another brought acid from my stomach. Head spinning and heart pounding, my back lurches and I'm relieved of my foulest meal. The city left behind, the sun ahead, the world at my feet. Much better!
Read more madness!Vicero, the mad writer