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Say a Word by mrs. johnson 06/18/2003, 4:26am PDT
Sorry for lack of paragraphs, it felt more natural this way. I also realized that I enjoy switching tenses in the middle of stories, sorry if it is a bother.

Great times are ahead, and downtimes are below. Fully accelerated particle purity is contacting our minds and we respond by hiding our faces. Dozens of timeless lights, twinkling with sober wisdom, and all ignored. Why? Because nobody can really look up. Sam withstood the test of time with his broken glory. He walked every morning to the corner and waited for a bus that came once every two days. While standing in wait on the morning of the final grooming, Sam looked up into the sky and tried to see the stars. The sun obscured his vision, but he did not mind. The solar rays pierced his dulled retinas and he looked back down. A car drove by, honking in greeting but Sam didn’t recognize it. He waved anyway. As time passed, his thoughts strayed to various things, but he never left his mind off the possibility of communicating in a slightly different way. He was trying as he hard as he could to talk off pattern. It was difficult and fruitless, but Sam had developed this as a goal for himself and he did not intend to quit. Instead of feeling pure loneliness or pure happiness or pure depression, he felt unlike most of his fictional brethren. His ancestors that had died suddenly through heart attacks, accidents, murder and old age. He was not sure if they had ever existed. They all seemed to be men, alone in the world, but Sam wasn’t alone. He had something. He had enough. He waited for the bus that might not come, but he thought, if it does not come today, then it shall come tomorrow. This comforted him and he relaxed and sat down on the folding chair that he brought with him. The sun faded into the clouds as Sam opened his book. He also put on his headphones and quickly lost track of time. The melodies and rhythms in his mind created a palatable background for the otherworldly creation of truth that the novel provided. His thoughts twirled away from the boredom of his world and he made the following discoveries: love often failed because it was felt unevenly and life for him was boring because it was predictable and held no mystery. Understanding these things did not help Sam alleviate their burdens, so he smiled lightly and continued to read. The book’s words led him to remember his upbringing and the story he was told by one of his teachers. Her words were inexact in his mind, but they were about Jesus. The teacher described the messiah as a man, who might have had divine powers. Sam realized that he had been reading all this time and he absorbed none of the words on the page. Often, Sam wished he was dead, but not out of depression. He understood how his life would go on, and it did not interest him. He could do nothing about this, so he considered death, but the thought of losing his sentience scared him. He attributed this fear to a genetic survival, and moved on. In the distance, a large vehicle approached. Sam closed his book and took off his headphones. He stood up, folded his chair and waited. The bus approached, its doors opened, and Sam approached it. When he was about to step onto the bus, he glanced at the driver. He was not what Sam was expecting. The normal driver, Gus, was gone and in his place was a toaster oven with arms and legs. It had no head. Sam got the distinct feeling that it was looking at him and he took a step back, uncomfortably. The doors closed and the bus drove off. Sam assumed that the normal bus would come tomorrow and walked back home. When he got there, he turned on the television for a few minutes, but there was nothing that interested him. He checked his e-mail, but found nothing but unwanted advertisements. He telephoned a few of his friends and went out. When he came back home seven hours later, he remembered little of what happened. Sam walked up to his room, and laid down to sleep. He dreamt of water parks and band aids and woke up early. He waited for the bus again, and this time it arrived within ten minutes. After greeting Gus, he stepped on. He sat next to Melinda and they began to talk. He sat in the same place every time, and so did she. They had developed a fragile friendship, but were both too timid and afraid to meet outside of the bus. Melinda tells him that she may soon be moving to another city, and Sam expresses his regret. They soon fall into silence. Sam suddenly realizes that his thoughts are not consistently in the present tense. In fact, he often thinks of the preceding seconds and not as they occur. Wondering if this is strange, he asks Melinda. She tells him that she is uncertain. After a minute of two of analyzing her own thoughts, Melinda tells Sam that her thoughts seem to be consistent to their subject. When she thinks of the present, it is in the present tense. The preceding second is generally not the past for her. Sam finds joy in his oddity and Melinda smiles at him. He looks out the window and sees trees passing by. Soon, he realizes his stop is coming up. The driver tells the passengers through the loudspeaker that he is about to make a stop and Sam says goodbye to Melinda. He walks to the front of the bus and exchanged goodbyes with Gus. The bus stops and the door opens. Sam steps out and looks around. Coming from a bit down the street, Sam hears crying, but with no seeming source. He walks towards the sound, and it gets louder with each step. Sam suddenly realizes that he forgot his chair on the bus, but this does not bother him. The crying always seems to he in front of him. The street is empty of pedestrians and vehicles. The sun is high in the air, with its yellow smile beaming down upon all, but only Sam is there to receive it. The crying stops completely and a few cars begin coming down the street. Pedestrians emerge from various buildings and begin to populate the side walks. Sam looks up and once again tries to see the stars.

the mrs.
NEXT REPLY QUOTE
 
Say a Word by mrs. johnson 06/18/2003, 4:26am PDT NEW
    In case it isn't obvious, I would appreciate some critique... NT by mrs. johnson 06/22/2003, 3:17am PDT NEW
        paragraphs NT by FABIO 06/22/2003, 12:37pm PDT NEW
        critique #1: I'll read it when paragraphs are indicated. by Moab 06/22/2003, 12:37pm PDT NEW
        Critique: It is an imposing wall of text which I did not read NT by Entropy Stew 06/22/2003, 3:56pm PDT NEW
    Re: Say a Word by The Professor Is In. 06/22/2003, 5:09pm PDT NEW
    paragraphs by stranger, bearing hatchet 06/25/2003, 11:29am PDT NEW
 
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