Internal Dialogue

The more I read the next piece, the more I don't like it. I think it comes off as being somewhat pretentious, and the dialogue doesn't fit as well as I wanted it to. Anyway, here it is.

In the late afternoon of an average summer day, two figures walked. These two figures, outlines against the sky, made their way to the rocky edge of a cliff overlooking a pristine body of water; a lake with no turbulence or activity, a perfectly still glass surface. When the two finally reached the edge, a slight breeze wound itself between the now motionless figures. With the winds first contact, the right figures mouth began to move.

“Our political leaders are no longer voices of the many, concentrated into a single throat. Never-ending wars are waged in countries for personal gain. We claim to help, and yes we give, but our gifts bring no comfort. Soldiers die, civilians die, humans die as storms of metal blast through shields of flesh. We must bring change.”

By this time the wind was no longer present, and in this stillness clouds crept on the horizon. With the change going unnoticed, the mouth kept moving, while the other figure remained silent.

“We must bring change. But how can the right candidate be chosen with only two political parties? Such a binary solution to everything, conservative and liberal, left and right, right and wrong, you must belong to one. We see black and white when only grey exists. But more options would not change the control media has on the result. They choose who to cover, what to talk about, they choose whether to cover Brittany or Bush. We watch, and we listen.”

The clouds were now overhead. The sun no longer visible, a slight crack of thunder made its presence known in the distance. At this time, the left figures eyes made their way to the water below, its mouth still mute. The words kept coming.

“We watch and we listen. We do not wake up every morning to constant gunfire. We have no fear of exploding cars and pedestrians with AK’s as we get the morning paper, grumbling about the weather. We don’t fear the starvation of our children. We don’t have to worry about these things, yet we are not grateful. Appreciation for the constant supply of everyday needs is nowhere to be found. We have bad days while countries die.”

A slight drizzle began, as the light from the day was quickly fading. The wind, having picked up again, now whipped around the figures. Slowly, ever so slowly, a storm was constructing itself. The water below displayed no sign of movement as lightning flashed and newly wetted lips continued.

“We have bad days while countries die. We allow our rulers to take whatever actions will raise their revenue. Shirts are bought as children sweat. Diamonds are given in sync with a man’s dying groan. Every day we support the degradation of our fellow humans simply because we cannot see them. And even if one knows this, there is no response.”

By this time the rain became a downfall of torrential stature. All light from the day was gone, as the wind whipped the grass below the two figures feet. There was a constant swirling around the two, a constant attack from the outside towards the in. Rain. Wind. Thunder. Lightning. The sound continued.

“And even if one knows this, there is no response. No bad taste forms in the mouth; no possible regret for this action, the only response we know is lethargy. Our comfort is never threatened; we are never put into danger. Or even worse, one may feign compassion. There are those who acknowledge the situations and pout, if only to make themselves feel less sadistic. Self, self, a thousand times self.”

All vision was now gone. The storm reached its peak as the two figures still stood on the cliff, overlooking the lake. Within the din of the storm, with all senses obstructed, the second figure prepared a response. With a quick step, and a leap, the second figure cheered as it jumped off the ledge and dove down into the still motionless water below.