{"id":399,"date":"2017-11-04T16:54:13","date_gmt":"2017-11-04T20:54:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/?p=399"},"modified":"2017-11-04T16:54:13","modified_gmt":"2017-11-04T20:54:13","slug":"clear-skies","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/2017\/11\/04\/clear-skies\/","title":{"rendered":"CLEAR SKIES"},"content":{"rendered":"

by TYLYN<\/strong><\/p>\n

Once, a girl lived in a lovely little town. People drove here and there, walked hitherto, sat around. Work was done, children were learned, and babies were made. People married, fought, and lived and died; for themselves and each other. But occasionally in the town, an occurrence came to be accepted by the residents, attracting few tourists.<\/p>\n

A town\u2019s secret, though it isn\u2019t concealed all that well, or really at all.<\/p>\n

The girl had been out for a stroll around her neighborhood when she felt her toes get a bit wet. She figured that she had just stepped into a little puddle and kept on going. The sun continued to shine. She was walking up a newly paved driveway when her big sister told her to remove her sandals.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we\u2019re not at grandpa\u2019s. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at your feet.\u201d When the girl saw her feet, she squealed. \u201cWhy is it red and thick and icky and\u2026?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up. Calm down,\u201d her sister ordered, \u201cIt\u2019s just blood. Have you never seen it?\u2019 The girl fumed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean by that? I\u2019ve been with blood on my feet for HOURS.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt happens all the time lil sis. The mayor had that tested years ago because we all\u00a0 thought it was just oil. I don\u2019t know how many people thought they had struck it rich. The greedy bastards\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEwewew! Still gross!\u201d The girl whined. Her elder sister went inside the house for some few moments before returning with a wet rag. She lobbed it to the girl, who sighed her gratitude and sat down to wipe away the blood on her feet. The sister grabbed a hose and turned it on. Water spurted to a powerful flow. She aimed it at the now-sullied driveway, smearing away blood as if it were ink on paper. She cleared her throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cAs I was saying, the results of the test revealed it to be human blood. But they couldn\u2019t match it to anyone. I\u2019ve never seen so many people pale,\u201d she laughed, \u201cThey so deserved it.\u201d Having finally calmed down, the girl listened intently.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen, why did it start happening?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody really knows. I like thinking that it\u2019s supposed to be a reminder of the consequences of the human race\u2019s pointless desire for bloodshed. After all, it happens randomly, and most of us have come to accept it, give or take a few nut jobs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what did the scientists think about it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf memory serves well, they think it\u2019s somethin\u2019 like an overflow of blood in the ground.<\/p>\n

Like it\u2019s a sponge or somethin\u2019.\u201d \u201cWow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYep, the things you know. Now go and get some soap because this mess isn\u2019t cleanin\u2019 itself up. You made it,\u201d the big sister said, dropping the hose, \u201cIt\u2019s on you to deal with it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care.\u201d While the girl scrambled after her sister, the hose kept on spewing water down the slope, now painting the crimson sketch of a mountainscape. And at its base rested a pool of blood swimming in water, a leaf floating on top.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by TYLYN<\/p>\n

Once, a girl lived in a lovely little town. People drove here and there, walked hitherto, sat around. Work was done, children were learned, and babies were made. People married, fought, and lived and died; for themselves and each other. But occasionally in the town, an occurrence came to be accepted by the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":624,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-399","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/399","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/624"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=399"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/399\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":400,"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/399\/revisions\/400"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=399"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=399"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blogs.butler.edu\/reverberations\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=399"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}