Times are bad

                    From over two thousand years ago reverberate the words of Cicero:

         "Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a book."

Cherry tint

                  -Why are the clouds so low?
                  -I don't know, but it doesn't smell like rain.

                  The sky is covered in heavy rolls of fast moving clouds. It's dark as if night is going to take over.
                  -It looks like a boiling foam... ash?!

                   I don't answer her.                 

                  The field is flat with grey grass. The color of the grass scares me, I sit on my knees to better see it. Can't tell if it's green or ash gray. I squat for a moment and look around. She's standing on the other side of the ditch, on the road, nervous.
                  I turn to her to ask her  what she thinks. With the corner of my eye , as I turn, I see an amazed and scared look on her face. She gazes in to the distance behind me.  I turn in to the direction that she looks.
                  In the distance, an uneven trunk of what seems to be glass is spewing out of the ground. It's diffuse, with a cherry red tint. It reaches the sky and splits. A mute display .The tentacles follow the contours of the clouds. It's immense.
                 A beam of white light points to my chest. It comes from the trunk, from far away.

                -It's going through you. We need to leave... please.
                She's scared with tears in her eyes. No matter how we move the beams stay on us,and go through us. A loud crackling  echoes, a combination of thunder and breaking glass noise. There is no wind.

                I wake up.

I live for you, you die for nothing

                   Those who are not dead twist, bend and talk.
                   If only the dead could speak.

Cat lasso

                The house is empty.

                -Finally, a summer morning with a quiet house.

               He got up and went to the bathroom. Teeth brush. Shower.
               Downstairs he turned on the TV, still naked. His eyes are still sleepy. Just a lazy morning after two months of working round the clock and round the globe in the militarized junta that is telecom business.
               His eyes switched from staring deep in to the TV to the moving trinkets on the shelves,next to the windows as the light coming from outside changes to a dim grey. His hands clutch the sofa as the house starts to tremble. He stands up in a crouched position ready to jump to save his life . Tripping on the coffee table and coat hanger he rushes outside slamming the door.
               Looks like a dust storm. It's coming from behind the house and advances.
               A siren shrieks. A loud amplified voice announces:
               "The controlled demolition is over"
               His adrenalin level shoots up as he discovers he can't go back into the house as the door is locked. He's naked outside the house in a tight packed neighborhood. He remembers that there are clothes strung to dry on the first floor balcony.
                Looking around confused and scared, he sees his cat coming home(after a rough night) jumping graciously over a bundle of rope. Inspiration hits him. He ties the cat and volleys it in to the balcony. The cat hangs on to the clothes. He pulls but the cat meows and resists. It props up with its hind legs on the balcony handrail.
               A passer by sees him and calls the police. The police officers laugh together with the crowd gathered to see the naked man with a lasso cat.
               THE END
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