Amusing Ramblings--written While Half-asleep

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Chapter 1: Why Bother?
(by Holden, added on 26 June 2007 10:26 AM)

Why bother? These things, this constant pool of slush I call my life is getting dull. Everyday I add to a diary which seems to grow in size but not in what I've learned. I wrote my last entry earlier. I decided to throw it out to the dogs, since I wouldn't be finishing it. I daresay it'll make them sick, eating my diary, because my brain is full of poison. Often times, I sit alone and think back on what was, what is now, and still what, in the end, must come to be. I wonder if maybe the sky isn't blue. I mean, people tell me it is, but I'm just a poor blind feller, you dingdongs could've been lying all your sick, messed-up lives. I mean, who said anyone in this Godforsaken world could be trusted anyway? No one! Absolutely no one! You want to know why? Because the world is an awfull place, run by awfull people, with nothing better to do then sit on their fat rear ends and critticize, critticize, critticize. Well, Mom and Dad, maybe I'm tired of your complaining. Maybe I'm tired of your griping about the whole danged world and everybody in it. So I think it's time for me to go.


Chapter 2: The Reader
(by Hypatia, added on 8 March 2009 03:24 AM)

Two sharp blasts echoed through the church where Joey was pouring out his heart in his
diary. He jerked to his feet in surprise and it fell of his lap, sending the slate and styllus he was writing with flying into the air.

"get down! get down! get down!" a deep man's voice barked at him and, without thinking, he flung himself on the floor and rrolled under the pew. As he lay there, barely able to breathe, all he could hear was the sound of his styllus rolling along the floor. When it finally came to a stop, he let out a sigh of relief, not even knowing why. Surely whoever was there had already seen him.

Moments later he heard footsteps coming toards him. Joey could feel his muscles tense, his teeth clench, and sweat beginning to roll down his face, even though it was already September and a cold September at that.

The footsteps stopped, what must have been a foot or so from Joey's face. He heard something being slid along the floor and then a sound like rough fingers moving lightly across paper. 'My diary?' he thought. It couldn't be. Nobody who sounds like that could possibly read braile.

"Pathetic." muttered the same deep voice that had been yelling at him moments before. "Absolutely pathetic."

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