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Circles (standard:other, 1285 words)
Author: BogeyAdded: Oct 05 2000Views/Reads: 2533/1308Story 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 

Thanks in advance, Bogey. 


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 

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