I am not too sure if there was already a thread that contained short stories or not.

Then again I did not look as hard as I should have, either way, this IS one containing short stories, random thoughts, whatever is swirling around in the mind I guess.














I have to write this fast, because the doctor is still staring at me.



Watching every movement or motionless feeling that aroses in my body.



I pulled up the file, looked through the records, and found that God had planned this two years in advanced.



Cheap. Weak. Exclusivley both, but meaningless all the same.



I walked past the doc, still smoking his stick. I snuck into the white room, wearing my dark apparel.



I shuffled to the bed, and glanced at the body. Weak. and Cheap. nothing more, and for god's sake, nothing ever is less than it should be. Supposedly everyone gets exactly what they deserve, just in different intervals, and just when we don't want anymore than we take.



I flicked the i.v. it was dead. completley dead. I checked the screen, and the lines swivled in and out, like a young immature male trying to be a god at sex. I laughed..then smiled...then cried.



Cheap and weak, is all i felt. I searched in my pocket to find some lint. Nothing I had could bring the dead back to life, nothing I had would cure..cure...cure even the common cold.



I looked up to the ceiling that accumulated water, but smelled like pee. I asked, "Now listen here, Doc, you can bring them down, you can bring them down, down, down...but never, never ever, will you bring me down, or for that matter up, with you."



Sinister of a man, if i ever met such a man...I would sneak it past him that he forgot one thing. words, in books with crosses on them, or books in general, do not speak as loudly as actions. My force, and motivation, does come from god...heh, but not the way these books write them, oh no.



I walked out of the room, and back into the lobby. Stared at the waiting faces, and smirked.



Then i walked my living body out of the fucking trap.