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Doctor Omega
11-02-2016, 07:21 PM
It didn't want to be written.

And, it was damned well sure that, once it had been written, it would not be read.

But, for all that, it was written.

And somebody, somewhere was sure to read it.

At least a little.

As stories go, it felt a bit rubbish.

What was the point of it's existence?

Would it be forgotten in the mists of time?

As dead as it's author and whoever had read it, centuries before.

It looked around and found that it was in good company.

A sea of forgotten print and dreams and sweat and sadness and tears and laughter that nobody wanted to read.

At least, it reassured itself, it would never be alone.

As it settled down to the harsh reality.

Already forgotten.

YesNo
11-02-2016, 10:09 PM
The story can relax. I read it. It has had at least one reader and so it will go accompanied, both of us forgotten, in the mists of time.

Pompey Bum
11-03-2016, 06:09 AM
It's kind of like the Island of Misfit Toys.

MANICHAEAN
11-08-2016, 11:17 PM
And the cigarette smoke swirled gently up to the ceiling.

AuntShecky
11-09-2016, 04:53 PM
A parody of Papa Hemingway if he didn't have anything to write about. Or as his pal Gertie might say, "There's no there there."