A tiny, unperceivable guilt rocks valley walls. Great forces tally and throw boulders blindly, fast downwards on top of the plantation. A safe haven built in a sprawling crack in the earths face. A magnificent sever that can be traced from outer black on acetate held to spaceship window. So great and large a slice it is to dwarf mountains but empty space as safe as a three foot thick concrete wall. Alas, reflections of sound are want to destroy as they build and roll, a rollicking invisible danger determined to demolish everything soft. Thus the plantation is forever silent, but for one instance, which ended the solemn tradition of hushed lips.
A pang of guilt, like the spark of a match, echoed inside the body like it would when ultimately released into the valley. It destroys the fragile human edifices held within flesh, obliterating everything dear to man, decimating his purist being, crumbling his soul. His house of mud could not hold him, and feet wrapped thick with soft reed could not carry him far enough, quick enough. He rocked and jarred, internal forces perpetually increasing deep within, surely too tight to hold, until he could not breathe from it except to scream.
The plantation destroyed and the valley split by a wall of rock fresh in time, the people gravitate towards its cause, towards the prisoner released. Now they whisper at first, too afraid to speak up, and then talk a little louder to finally scream and shout, shaking loose rock perilous above. With nothing left to loose, they forget their loss and rejoice fresh exuberance with song and banter not experienced since their initial settling in the valley. Children puzzled by their elders sudden glorious awakening, kick and scream like foals fresh to spring fields. His guilt released and chest clear, our man for a moment forgets why he was so trodden with guilt in the first instance and just enjoys the moment, brief as life.