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by
PsychG
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Fiction
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| Submitted on 10/31/2008 |
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Skip
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Love can no longer be the answer to everything. We can't blind ourselves with the indulgence of ecstacy, LSD, and other mind-bending poisons. Clear thinking has been extinct in a world priding itself in idiocy.
Clouds step aside for the dim rays of the morning Sun. The snow, continuously piling on inch-by-inch, still blankets the ground in an icy terrain.
Through the dark lids of this young man shines the dim light of the Sun. Only slivers escape from behind the maroon curtains. The man's eyes open slowly but surely, and his muscles tighten as he reluctantly leaves behind the secure comfort of the bed. His heartbeat, still slow, quickens as he leaves his sub-conscious state. Barely aware of his surroundings, he stumbles. Landing on his hands and knees, he recovers and continues on to the kitchen.
The dark apartment remains still and lifeless. Pocket change and keys gather dust on the shelf. A cellphone lays on the coffee table, wires plucked from it's insides like veins.
The man comes into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator door. The slight chill penetrates him down to the bone. His blue eyes scan around, foraging for something to eat, but settling for nothing. His stomach quivers at the thought of food, despite it's long fast.
Curling up on the warm sofa, he reached for the remote. Scanning through the channels he found nothing of interest. The news had yet another story of the havoc engulfing the planet. War, poverty, economic instability; turmoil seemed to be everywhere.
Alas, he had enough of this. Angrily shutting off the television, and throwing the remote aside, he reached for his coat and walked out the door; slamming the door behind him.
Hands in his coat pockets, he walked calmly down the eerie hallway. Dim lights lit the way as he step-by-step made his way down to the lobby.
Out into the cold Winter streets of Manhattan, his thick coat the only protection for his sensitive skin, he walked alone. Too early in the morning for him to be crowded by uncaring business men, yet too late for him to be engulfed in the blackness of night. His breath revealed itself with every step he took.
Time past, and the streets began sprouting life. Cars honking, angry businessmen hurrying to their destination, and uncaring fashionistas strutted down the streets. New York began showing off it's true colors.
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Title:
Rise of Anarchy pt. 2
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Artist:
PsychG
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Description:
This is for a contest. The theme is "wow!" Yes. I'm aware that is lame. Tell me what you think. Please read the first portion to gain a bit more understanding.
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Date:
10/31/2008
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Tags:
rise
anarchy
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