Sep 20, 2008 01:37
Wine and sad music made me do this. But no one gets to suffer, because I'm posting my terrible writing in an out of the way place.
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An old man sat at his table, seeing the darkness outside his window. Across from him, a single chair was pulled out by the table. Though his chairs were made of hard, polished wood, the old man was leaning back comfortably, his hands clasped together over his stomach, and his legs sticking out in front of him. The clothes he wore were his best, but showed creases of a long storage their owner hadn't bothered to iron out. The old man continued sitting like this for some time, barely moving. Even after he heard the door open, and then another well-dressed man sat in the chair that had been left out, the old man remained as he was.
When he did look over at the well-dressed man, he saw that the man's eyes were resting on his face, looking over all the creases as though seeing if everything was as he remembered. The well-dressed man had pulled his chair up at an angle, and crossed his legs in a manner of ease, while resting both arms on the table beside him. At length, the old man spoke, saying "I remember when I was young, and you were little. Sometimes I would come home late at night, and you were always awake and waiting for me when I did that."
The well-dressed man's mouth twitched as if to smile, but then stopped when he said "I was afraid. I remember the story you always told me after, when you came to see me after washing off - my bedtime story."
"I would tell you about a boy." said the old man, "His mother cursed him to a life of sorrow as she lay dying from his birth. And so, his life was filled with sorrow. One day a wise woman saw the boy crying, and asked him why he wept. The boy told her about his dead mother's curse, and all the woe he had received in his short life. Being wise and good, the woman took pity on him and gave him a bowl. She told him that whenever tears of sorrow dropped from his face, those that fell into the bowl would transform into pearls.". The old man paused, then finished talking: "After this, the boy's curse almost became a blessing. This is the best people can ever do in their life."
While the old talked, the well-dressed man had been looking at his hands, flipping them over and examining them. When it was quiet again, he put his right hand into his jacket, saying "I am that boy now too. Like him, sorrow is the virtue I live by." His hand withdrew a pistol from its holster and leveled the gun at his mentor's chest, fired twice, and then after a moment fired again. The well-dressed man stood up and left to collect his pay.
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So yeah. If the bowl idea had been mine, I would be a genius. I borrowed that idea though, because it's the whole reason I thought of writing the rest in the first place. If it counts as credit though, the only part I coped was the bowl part. It's too good!