Paroxysmal Symptoms

by davidchrzanowski

While sending emails filled with proposals, a to-and-fro of cramping convulsions, the kind synonymous with epileptics who find themselves grouped together in classes. Their wilting shakes brought on by virginal brides, yet to be taken from the grasp of a mother’s shoulder. Within those emails of HTML, an uncertainty of financial gain, looming deadlines and a desperation to meet interest rates, all written under the distraction of evening rain and light pollution. A marriage of paroxysmal symptoms; short, frequent, a stereotype, their faces are a creation of common design features. Much like the time I came face-to-face with a large dog while walking down a dimly lit cycle path. It was early winter, but should have been autumn. As I closed in on the animal, expecting at anytime to greet the owner, I noticed it was not a dog, but a stag with stern antlers and smoke back-firing from his nostrils that stood in my way. I remained calm, until five others came running from the trees like a real life Jurassic Park.