Stories unrelated to Bob
Wew, after almost a year of not writing anything for it. I suddenly came up with a subtitle for my story. Hopefully it is the start of a creative impulse, which will finish or at least propel my story forward towards an eventual end.
It's already planned out, I just don't know how to go about writing it, and I'm not really happy with some of the parts anyway, that need to be rewritten. Anyway, if you were wondering, the title including subtitle is
HELPING THE WORLD
Updated 08-16-2009 at 04:52 PM by AimusSage
I knew a bully once, a big fat mean bully who was twice the size of me. He became a rich man, made his money in all sorts of businesses. The most notable business was stealing from the rich and giving to it to himself. He had one problem though. It wasn't that he was fat, or that he lacked a proper brain. No his problem was that he didn't understand himself. He forgot why he became a bully in the first place. It was because he didn't have any friends. Now that he was rich he had friends, or so he
Updated 08-16-2009 at 05:04 PM by AimusSage
People tell him secrets. Even people he barely knows come to him with their secrets. He always listens, he always hears what they tell him, he cannot forget. He cannot tell. There is one thing he has always wondered; why? Why do people come to him with their secrets, their problems, their issues and questions? He doesn’t have all the answers. But sometimes people need a listener, someone who is there, but why him? They seek him out even if he is not there.
He looks in the mirror;
Updated 08-16-2009 at 05:06 PM by AimusSage
He sat on a park bench for hours, watching people pass by.
A young attractive lady with a small dog, an elderly gentleman with a cane humming a familiar tune, a jogger working up a sweat, a group of children shouting loud and ignoring the woman with her groceries, forcing her to step of the path, another elderly gentleman this one without a cane, seemingly out to feed the birds stood for close to the bench a few minutes, feeding a few pigeons, several business men on their lunch
Updated 08-16-2009 at 05:09 PM by AimusSage
Where do you think you’re going? Don’t you know it’s dark outside?
“Shut it man, you’re the one who’s in Dire Straits, why should I care about your boohoo pride. Oh wait, it’s just a song, in that case, double boohoo.” The song had startled her.
A knock on the door, and the annoyed breathy smoking voice of her mother: “Michelle? Who’re you talking to baby?”
“No one mom, it’s just the radio, it’s this song by Mark Knopfler, I was just commenting on the lyrics.”