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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
As the day starts, a view from a bedroom window is not what it seams.

Submitted: May 23, 2014

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Submitted: May 23, 2014



Breakfast Dave, the female voice yells from down staires. Dave swings his legs mechanicle out of the bed and sits upright stairing at the view from the bedroom window. Looking at the junction in front of him, gently rising and sweeping away to the right. The road to his left fading into a bend as the road to his right lifted gradually in to a small hill. Below as he looked righ he could clearly see the bus stop with peaple gathering for the work day journey, as the trafic murmerd it's way up the hill and the rush of cars coming down, some slowing to let others turn in or out of the busying junction. 

As he gased he heard a tremendous bang and crass, a lorry delivering metal beer barrels rear doers had burst open, spewing the miss sharpen contents out in to the flow of traffic, bouncing hap hazerdly with a straingwobble fron their shape in to cars. One bounced and when't straight into the wind screen of a car going up the hill, smashing down on to the roof and wedging its self there, others rolled in to the cars coming down caudpseing one car to break hard, the car behind ploughing into it with screeching and crashing, another car going up tried to turn out of the path of the barrels, but only ended up mounting the pavement and smashing into a garden well, bedlam, rained, peaple where screaming, cars where crashing, and the beer filled barels kept on rolling dome the hill, bouncing and wobleing towards the peaple in the bus shelter, a panic started at the realisation of what was about to happen, some turns to rud out of the shelter but only succeeded in tangling with others in the same state of fear.

The barrel cascaded bouncing, wobleing, smashing directly into the shelter, as they did so, knocking the inhabit acne down like ten pins, rolling over the bodies, splitting them as if ripe tomatoes. Crushing down what was raised in there path as if a lawn mower riding the bumps in a garden. Cracking, slitting noises, screams, the blood, the carnage,,,

David Williams, get your self down here right this minuet, your breakfast is on the table!

A rub of eyes, and a stretch. A light drizzle and gentle breeze ruffling the leaves. 

Bloody day dreams.

© Copyright 2019 Jacques Robear. All rights reserved.

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