Now, this is a short story I wrote in approximately 10 minutes. This is why I wrote this story..
I was on an online game, when suddenly I felt like spurting out random comments on the chat. Now, a friend who was playing at the same time mentioned how I was wierd; that's when it hit me. I realised that this would make a perculiar short story (and it is very short indeed). So, I after I wrote it, I decided to find a forum to post it on, and this was the first one which cropped up!
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The Purple Monk
Yesterday I tripped over something soft and banged my head on something not-so-soft. When I regained consiousness, I found that my cat hadn't eaten her food. I called her. "Joey!!" Yes, it is a male name, because I cut her private parts off accidently while shaving my face.
I found her!! She seems to be very wet.
I'm still wandering where the cuts on my wrists are.
I'm poking my eyes lately, but they just feel wet. There is a strange emotion inside of me. Maybe that's why I tried to slit my wrists.
I called the vets to come round and take care of my dead cat. I am very sad and have no idea what happened to her.
Maybe one day I shall see again, and be able to find out what happened to my cat.
Tonight I heard sirens, soon I heard many men shouting, as men suddenly entered my home and attempted to kidnap me. I tried to stab a few with a fork, but they had stun guns. I think a lower setting is plentyful thank you.
I regained conciousness, and heard people saying nice things to me. The kidnappers are mocking me! I spat at them and said I wouldn't co operate, yet they continued to mock me. Eventually I roared at them, and tugged at the elephant tape around me, streching it as far as I could, but to no prevail.
I think they drugged me, since I lost conciousness again. It looks like I am at their mercy...
For hours I am left alone, in silence. I hear others who have been kidnapped around me, some are screaming. They must have some sort of torture policy. Regretfully I have a feeling that I will be next.
I think it is night time. All this time some people have been tortured. Still I am left alone.
Today they mock me again, or are they? I cannot make sense of what they are saying. Are they trying to be nice so that I shall co operate? What do I have which is worth so much to them.
Ow! I seem to have been thrown onto the floor! My head stings now. I attempt to stand but I am soon pulled back onto the table. Perhaps these are revolutionists?
I lied to you my friend. I do have something of value. I have special abilities which no other human can fathom. I am telling you this because I cannot keep a secret from you, not even this deep.
It has been months now, I am not harmed. I have not been returned to my home however. They have said that I shall go to a safe place. Underneath my feet is grass. I hear many people calling my name. Their voices seem unclear, as if they were never taught how to talk. I hear scraping, as if they were orphans which were locked away, never learning how to move, like other humans. Suddenly I realise. I have been sent to help these people! I greet them. My sore throat seems to have gone now, so I can speak properly.
Food has been provided to me by divine beings who seem to have authority. They try to help these poor souls, yet which each word I hear form them, I realise that they misunderstand everything. It is as if these beings are providing a cell for our souls to reside in. They beckon me to talk to the others, to share my experiences, and my wisdom. I teach them all I can.
It has been three years since I entered this strange, quiet land. I have aided hundreds with their lives, each individual one thanks me. Many have left now...
I tend to think of myself as a monk. My favourite colour is purple, and people often call me The Purple Man. So, you may call me The Purple Monk. How are you, my friend?
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