fictional story

fictional story

Every day ... I sit in the same place, that shabby sofa. I count the seconds from the wall clock that ring my head a third of the alarm, and the more seconds I get, the fewer seconds remaining with me from life, and any life is not at the age of eighty .. and increased nine on it ! I look around to repeat the daily killer routine to find that cat whose teeth are less than the rest of my teeth to realize that it needs death more than I need, those curtains, oh from those curtains, I wish I could tear the rest of its streaked threads to see that outside world through that window Shattered, but who would argue ?! How can I see sunlight from the huge factories that filled the area? How can I even breathe after my lungs become filtered for those black fumes that I no longer know are they fumes? Or thunderstorms.


I am no longer a precedent in my time. I once looked out of the window to see all these vast orchards and played from morning until evening without getting tired, and I didn’t: A day that time will take from me all my happiest childhood and turn it into stones and piles of iron that produce all these toxins, They say it is factories! Any factories that only make smoke and waste that I think one day will become a monster eating elders that have no life in any human being who speaks to them ... Yes and without shame, I mean myself! How can young people pass by and the years run like they did in the past and washed away with her husband who did not know before him the meaning of being the most beautiful woman in the world, because there were no women in his world other than me, oh if time comes back or he goes forward to go to another life he met in it even for one moment I remember all The days of that year that we lived together before he died in front of that damned truck, yes I still remember it ... A rusty blue driven by a drunken young man fleeing from the grip of a man who almost wiped him down with a rifle for stealing his rusty truck. What's that sound ?! Is it possible? I forgot this voice as if it was wiped from my imagination, a moment please, visitor, I said that to him to arrange the place that has gone through seven decades and I have never opened the door to a visitor, except for the boy who has a bike that has become so far and I see the characteristics of his grandson in it, without him I would not have lived a moment in time Life is hungry. Is it possible? I forgot this voice as if it was wiped from my imagination, a moment please, visitor, I said that to him to arrange the place that has gone through seven decades and I have never opened the door to a visitor, except for the boy who has a bike that has become so far and I see the characteristics of his grandson in it, without him I would not have lived a moment in time Life is hungry. Is it possible? I forgot this voice as if it was wiped from my imagination, a moment please, visitor, I said that to him to arrange the place that has gone through seven decades and I have never opened the door to a visitor, except the boy who has a bike that has become so far and I see the characteristics of his grandson in it, without him I would not have lived a moment in rest Life is hungry.
I said with great enthusiasm: Go, son ... And he opened the door with his thunderous squeak, entering with him the dust of the years.