So here we are, two weeks later. Cannot stay long so promise a fuller update and maybe, just maybe, we'll find out what happened when i went through the door at the bar...
So - the point of this brief excercise is twofold.
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To prove i am not dead (although fate may tickle us all soon by killing me soon after writing this, allowing us all a good chuckle at the irony of our existence)
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To, on the back of the success of my last 500 word short story posted up here, present for your thoughtd and reviews and comments, not 1 but 2 stories, each clocking in at 499 words exactly
What i'll do, i think, if you'll let me, is post them in two separate blogs, then post the links back in each one. How's that sound?
Anyway, as this is my first blog from my new work and is therefore "illegal" i will bid you adieu, but i'll be back before long, promise!
Story 1...
Robert Myra span in his almost comfortable swivel chair and came to rest facing the window. It was Wednesday, and a slow one at that. He peered at the outside world as it moved by, hundreds of feet below. He did this about five or six times each day and each and every time he did so, he desperately felt the urge to kill each and every person out there.
It had, on many occasions, been pointed out to Robert, either on observation platforms, from plane windows, or even in this very office that from this height people resembled ants. On every occasion, Robert said nothing but smiled quietly and imagined pouring a giant kettle out over the cities below, scalding the ant-people and washing the earth clean of their filth.
For obvious reasons, he kept these kind of urges private. It did not bode well for your future employment prospects to inform you colleagues that you harboured strong impulses towards mass murder. And on a global scale at that. Many a good administrative career had been halted in its infancy through the unwise verbalisation of such intentions. But, unfortunately for Robert, these involuntary and frankly murderous urges only grew within him. He straightened out paperclips to relieve the tension, on each occasion picturing the face of someone he knew as he twisted the metal until it broke. It didn’t really help much, but it felt good.
As he mused on his homicidal plans for the world beyond his window, Robert slowly approached the worst part of his day. It was the moment when he looked deep within himself, working out how to best put his plans into action, how to kill everyone out there, either individually or one by one. It was at these moments, each and everyday, that Robert realised his own ineffectuality.
In a split second everyday his fantasy would fall though and he would be faced with his own pathetic existence. He would feel the cavern of his empty sole opening before him and his stomach would sink rapidly into it. A single tear would break for freedom down his cheek and he would confront reality. He knew as much as he would like to he could never so much as harm a hair on one head. He did not have the drive or ability to make his fantasies into reality
Robert turned back from the window to his computer screen and the 18 outstanding emails in his inbox – all but one of them to do with paperclips. He sighed and clicked through them as the world outside moved forward without him, leaving him behind. That world in which he would never fit, had never fitted and where, more to the point, he had been refused entry into the Enrst Stavro Blofeld Academy for the Practical Application of Criminal Insanity in the field of World Domination and/or Destruction simply because he hadn’t cheated on the entry exam. He’d kill all them too, if he could.
Story two can be found here... http://www.managerleague.com/blogperma.pl?id=527
