|Circles (standard:other, 1285 words)|
|Author: Bogey||Added: Oct 05 2000||Views/Reads: 2035/996||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Well, hanging around isn't too bad. At least not when you're going in circles.|
Hi there. To all of you about to start reading this little story, please oh please respond. My e-mail is listed about everywhere on this site. So that ain't gonna be no excuse (read with accent). And you do have an opinion on this collection of words, right? So vote! And by the way, read the other stuff as well: give the other writers a response and an honest vote. They will like it (when you are honest, that is). And all those comments might just do the trick to improve the quality of our typing and thinking. Maybe even get us to write on a subject you might like. Thanks in advance, Bogey. Circles Around and around. Always in circles. Boy, am I getting bored of that. But can I go another way? Sadly to say but no, I do not think so. But I don't mind much. I am a fighter. A fighter looking like the ones you could see in the big war. Bright yellow and red like a sun. A big engine, strong propellers. Sleek hull and large wings. I have no landing gear, but I don't need one. And there are no guns on me, but my war is not against other planes. No bombs, for I never really fight. And, to complete this, my engine is never running. Then how come I'm flying, you ask? Well, it took me some time to figure it out. You down there could have guessed it already, but for me, it took some time. All right, let me tell you. My entire being is just a thought. After all, the body I'm in is not moving. And I have no control over the world around me. As a matter of fact, I don't control anything. Just my thoughts. All I know is what others have told me. Or what I have heard when those others are talking to others. I realized one day that the voice I could here, were not existing. That was strange. Now I know they were thoughts. And I could hear them. The voices I heard told me that I was a plane. I could not look around, but it felt like I was picked up and put in a small space. A weird material around me prevented me from moving. It was good that whoever put me in there didn't want me to get hurt. But I wanted to move. If I was a plane, I should be able to fly, right? Well, no. The box was transported, it took a long time. Then silence. A shaking movement and humming sound indicated that I was in a moving vehicle. When it stopped, I felt being lifted again. Then, I was put out of the box. A lot of voices surrounded me. In this blur of sounds, I noticed that I was turning around. Since I was supposedly a plane, I guessed I was flying. After a while, I got used to the wall of sound around me. Slowly picking out one thought at a time, I did my bit of putting the puzzle together. Thoughts from all around jumped up to me. "Look at that one, it must be the coolest in the world!" "Hey, this one is hangin' by a thread" "Oh boy, I want one, how much are they?" "199 dollars, my son, way too much for us." "Hey dad, look here, a tank." "Oh man, what a great racing car" "Look, the salesman is turning him around again! Let's watch it." "Come on boys, no buying, no looking" "Let's go dad, there another truck" The waiting was hard and long. I felt spinning around time and time again. Thinking was difficult. It must be a place to buy and sell toys, that all I could think off.. And all those voices and thoughts and sounds were driving me nuts. Thank god for such a thing as closing time. No offence kids, but sometimes it just gets too much. Well, by the time the salesman left the store, and I stopped turning in circles, I started thinking. It dawned on me that I was indeed some sort of toy plane. And the salesman hung me up to display me. Maybe I was difficult to sell? Or just hung up there to attract the voices to buy my fellow toys and me? Maybe someone would tell me tomorrow. Or maybe I would be sold. But tomorrow came and went. Nobody wanted to buy a 199-dollar plane, no matter how beautiful it was. It made me sad. Everybody said that they liked me, but nobody bought me. Why not? What was wrong with me? But no tears, there's always tomorrow. And hope. But that tomorrow came and went without a buyer for me. And the next tomorrow went by and the next and so on. I felt very sad. Even depressed. The salesman sold a lot of planes, even a lot that looked like me. But while every time I spun around, the little voices stopped and watched, no big voice ever paid the money to get me. I was in that shop for more than a month and still nobody bought me. Even the salesman stopped spinning me around. I was just hanging there. If I could cry, a river would run through the toyshop. Click here to read the rest of this story (34 more lines)
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