Tuesday, April 8, 2014


The water cascaded over the cliff and struck the rocks below as long, thin daggers. Despite this relentless assault, the exposed bedrock did not relent.
            Welch just stood back and took in the pitiful view, more than fully aware what it truly meant.
            Up until a few years ago, the very spot where he stood watching would have been under almost two feet of water. The place there the waterfall struck should have been a frothing pool marking the spot where the two streams merged.
            Instead, both locations lay bare, exposed to the sun and all but devoid of life. The small rivulet that wound its way between the rocks barely increased despite the added volume.
            Welch realized that it had been all those damn subdivisions up stream tapping into the water supply. In a way, change was inevitable he supposed.
            It was that very change that put Welch in his current predicament. By his recollection, he had been gone nine years, six months, and four days. In all that time, his own life had changed little. When the opportunity for change presented itself, he had embraced it heartily.
            With no real planning, sans some vague daydreams, Welch had decided to go for it. He was sure that things would work out, although it would likely not be in the way he initially envisioned.
            As he stood there pondering not only his past and current situations, faintly hearing the first sounds of approaching bloodhounds, Welch could feel his own will subside as he started to capitulate to the approaching inevitability.
            As the sounds of men started coming into focus, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer either stream would persist.
            When the marshals finally caught up to Welch, they were thrown off by his non-resistance.

            When asked why he had stop running, Welch only answered that the place he had planned on going to was no longer there.

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