Nothing special here, posted simply because of it is part of the collection.
Read quickly,
Is life really that important that we have to rush throught it and not stop to smell the exhaust. Speaking of which, there is too much exhaust in this world. Will the next world be a happy place where there is no pollution and everybody has food and a place to live? I don’t think so because the dirtiness of this world will have gone with death into the next world and infected it. Continue reading
What follows is the introduction to a series of short stories I started writing in high school many years ago. I recently came across these and felt they were good enough to post. They are unedited and come exactly how I found them or rather how I left them when I wrote them all those years ago.
Enjoy,
It was always there, down at the end of the street, all dirty and filthy with the runoff water from the mountains. It was dug by the Hohokam indians a couple lifetimes ago. It was fifty feet across and thrity to forty feet to the bottom. The walls weren’t concrete like the other canals in Phoenix, these were dirt. You might call it a canyon or something of the sort. I didn’t like it much to begin with but after passing it about a thousand times I got used to it. Continue reading
The ashy black rolled beneath him as the tires droned to the beat of movement. The sun dredged itself across the endless sky. The horizon was a constant range of mountains, giving way to more spiked horizons. Every now and then, rodents would dash across his path in a frenzied cluster of movement that tugged a primal urge to survive. In between those now and thens, he would spot the corpse of a failed survival attempt and his heart would pay a small tribute to the life lost. Continue reading
This is an essay on how it is better to consciously pursue the truth in our lives, especially in regards to freedom. It is a bit lengthy but I am hoping for some feedback on it.
 Thank you and without further ado
His eyes were open but he could not see. He tried and tried, vainly squinting his eyes. Slowly he began to see swirls of primary colors that melted into more. He squeezed his eyes harder and slowly shook his aching head side to side. The pain! The throbbing pain! It stormed through his skull like thunder on a clear night. Confusion set in and turned into near panic. The colors swarmed into an unfocused blue. He was definitely awake and wished he was not.
He was laying on his back, he slowly began to sit up. The fire in his head intensified. Continue reading
The sun hung in the sky, its rays seemed to boil the air. The humidity was high enough one could soak it up with a sponge. The sweat poring out of his pores turned his uniform into hot wet rags; his ammo vest raised his body temperature even further. The weapon in his hands grew heavier with each passing moment. Inside his boots, his feet swam with moisture. Not thirty minutes earlier, he had taken a shower, stepping out of it and already feeling the need for another. Continue reading
 It felt heavy. The hardened steel loop, the worn brass shell, and the ‘Master’ logo stamped on the sides. It was a combination lock with four dials and the usual set of numbers. His father had it on a shelf above his desk ever since he got back from that long business trip he left for so long ago. The lock was not callously placed on the shelf; it was dead center, standing upright for all to see with space on both sides, framing it in view. Continue reading
All stories can be sufficiently put into a few categories. As with many attempts to categorize, there are different and sometimes conflicting versions.
I have taken the liberty of setting the different categorizations together in one Plot Tree. Keep in mind that this is boiled down and doesn’t attempt to represent variations of the same plot, there are thousands of such examples on various sites (listed in sources). I am not claiming this as original work.
Discussion is welcomed.