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Telling it softly

By: Mark Cuthbert III

Page 1, so me fa

gently raising a pen from its holder

he brought his candlelight a little bit closer to the page of papyrus

he could not explain what he was doing with a feather quill pen and papyrus, sitting in the bus station at 9 in the morning.

No last night was not one of those kinds of hummdingers

he was just there

as if awoked from his sleep by some strange passer by

and he happened to be in a bus station at 9 am with a quill pen and page of papyrus

"weird" he shivers

looks around, puts his head down

then his ink


what did that mean...I suppose I am awake...but that's old news...even in the literal world of meaning things...

yet he didn't know what else to fact he didn't even know he said just sort of came out.

you see when one finds a quill pen and page of papyrus and can't alltogether explain why they are possesing them...

well you know what you would do

annnnd back to our hero


yes, I can agree with that much...hmmm..

looks around again

reaches for a cigarette

then remembers...

fights with himself really

he's cutting back

ok focus

writing...spilt ink blood..

lets go

he stutters his pen for a second and then it comes gushing like eew the romans and Ooolala the homelands all rolled into one of those take home cookie dough tubes...euack!, not quack. if you need a sound for it all.

"he never had a chance in hell until he found the great heron had a bell on her colar. when it did ring something in his mind was comepletely resurfaced and all the brazen hazeyness he'd dealt with was slowly, well instantly relieved...sad strain on his eyes made melt any hope at rejoice, but there was a sigh of general reliefe that perhaps a better day would ever be possible."

the end

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