Create an `` Omelas ''

Resplendent beauty. That was all that George could muster in his mind's eye as he walked the countryside which he has always regarded as the most sacred piece of his childhood. Even to the present day the trees in the valley always radiated with this beauty year in and year out, yet there was something more which George could never quite place. 
 
 Witnessing the changing of season in the valley was, and still is to this day, on par with Babylon and its imposing gardens, with a splash of the awe thrust upon you that Victoria Falls can only impose. As the sycamores and maples transfigured themselves into what could only be described as a painfully brilliant spectacle on display for the world, yet George remained the only witness. Colors dancing off of the shimmering, translucent lake below, painted something that only seemed possible in a rare art form, something that George always knew was there but could never garner its energy within himself. He always felt the valley lacked red and seemed a bit too cheery, and could always use a little more. 
 
 As this thought flashed through his mind he was brought back, collapsing in on himself in an instant, to the task at hand. George grunted as he hacked through the rest of the ligaments clinging on to the muscle for what seemed like dear life. George made sure that she was no more; she could finally complete the valley for him. This was truly George's masterpiece.
