Roots of Discord

COVERI wrote this chapter to show the correlation between Collin’s anger and his room. Only when the angry emotions hurl his door closed, does the room come to life. Vines are amazing creatures. I have them all over my back yard. And like Collin who planted them by his anger, I have literally planted them just out of my pure fascination with them. After one week these baby vines have already stretched out there wispy green stems and curled around my fence. Collin’s anger is wrapping around everything in his life, and getting entangled into every area where he dwells.
Hope you enjoy reading this small expert of this chapter as much as I liked writing it:


Chapter 9
Roots of Discord
He slammed the heavy basement door, which boomed shut and jump-started a pulse in the room, literally bringing it to life. The pale, paper-thin wall displayed branches of wild vines that reverberated just underneath the white-washed paint like an old man’s veins bulging from his frail skin.
Collin saw a shock wave from the corner of his eye. “What the—”
He whirled around to catch a glimpse of the throbbing walls and forgot his anger as cold sweat broke out in tiny beads on his forehead, sending chills down to his clammy palms. The bag of chips slipped from his grip, spilling potato shavings everywhere. He reached out to touch the wall with his tremulous hand and groped the damp barrier. The wall breathed—he actually felt it sigh. “How the freak is this happening?”
Collin traced the main branch of vine behind the paint until his hand swept against an invisible ridge. Shaking his head, he followed the hairline crevice of a small rectangular outline.
“It has to be some kinda door.” The sound of his voice echoing against the walls reassured him that he was really here and experiencing something supernatural. Collin dug with his fingertips, trying to grasp the door enough to pull it open. Instead he encountered a whisper of a vine that pushed its way through the crack.
Yanking his hands back, Collin wiped his drenched palms on his threadbare jeans and squinted his eyes to get a better look and make sense of it all. It’s just like the one I found upstairs wrapped around my desk.
An icy cold shiver ran up his spine, and his neck hairs froze.
The whole house is infested with this stuff. It’s flippin’ everywhere! Stretching his arm once more, he tugged at the fragile green cord until it broke off in his hand. Tickling his palm, it instantly withered and died. Collin made a fist, crushing the ashen remains to dust. As he watched the dust particles fall, a sinking weight punched him in the gut. He was equally dead and lifeless, separated from his own family.


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Filed under Charisma Speaks, Inspirations, Poetically Speaking

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