A blur around the edges

The street lights cast a somewhat melancholic orange tint on the roads outside his home. The few just outside his door were shrouded by trees and the light filtered through the branches and leaves, in what he thought were beautful beams of broken light, and bounced off window panes creating a diffused orange halo of sorts.
The street he lived on, was , in itself was quite unremarkable, and generally conformed to whatever standards streets in the vicinity typically conformed to. Other than the 6 odd houses that it contained on eitherside, a few restless mongrel mutts who had made it their home and debris and construction material, the street had recently become home to a lost feeling.

He sat alongside the lost feeling and tried to console it for the 100th time that night and yet again to no obvious avail. It stirred briefly, glanced around and then lashed out a tentacle and struck out at his chest. The contact brought a brief shudder to him, one of many that of late he had become quite accustomed to. Not completely alien to lost feelings, he was quite surprised that he was having so much trouble with this one. For one, it was highly unpredictable, and to an extent its behaviour was much like a randomly shot bullet ricocheting off 6 types of different surfaces only to finally rest in the most vulnerable place of all.
Secondly, unlike run of the mill lost feelings, this one didnt fade briefly when exposed to novel stimulii, but on the contrary, it just seemed to grow ever more lonesome.

The cold winter wind tried to unravel him with its fury but had to give up eventually.He had far greater problems to deal with.

The lost feeling followed him up to his room, shared his meal and then quietly got under the blanket with him.
It even turned away from him and allowed him a hug as he nestled his nose in its neck.


- an excerpt from the recovered journal of Nomad al Gamadia, travelling through diffident times and stranger roads.

+g+ <*_*>