The Void

[John DoeParticipant 743]

I recently published a very short philosophy/art/survival story on Amazon.com for the Kindle. It is about a man in the desert. Nothing more. Nothing less. To be frank, I do not know whether it is good, bad, or somewhere in between. But I figured I would publish it because I felt there is something too it, I just don’t know what it is.

The Void

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01B8CB5ES

Now I do not know what the policies for self advertising are, but if I am breaking any forum rules I would not hesitate to ask the moderators to take this post down. I would not be offended in the least.

And as usual all criticisms are welcome.

[SpacemonkeyParticipant 1481]

If you posted it somewhere for free I’d be happy to read it.

Hey Keymaster, how about a creative writing area on the site? Sometimes it is easier and more effective to get a point across in the form of a short story or poem.

“Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.”

[John DoeParticipant 743]

I do not fully understand the copyright laws under kindle yet.

Here is a sample of what they allow:

“Want seems to be the condition of men, a ceaseless one with no rest in site for the ignorant. From the womb to the grave we wave our hands clenched in fury and scream, showing that we are here. Reflections guide us as we fight amongst the mirrors tying the heart to reality. Madness…Madness is what we seek more than peace, because we are awed by its turbulent power.

Wounded everywhere, through the exercise of my own will, from head to toe I ache. The paradise, the work of my hands, is but a passing mirage in this land. A brief thought swept away in the presence of desolation. My hands, covered in blood, grasp the mark on my head. And in my heart grief consumes me until I am enveloped in darkness and fall into a slumber. Where is my salvation where is my hope? Exhaustion and numbness hide under the mantel of a savior, for they are wolves dressed as sheep slowly stalking their prey.

I wander in the desert, blinded by the sand. The sun directs me as it scorches my flesh. The moon guides me as it chills my bones. Light is what I chase. Light is what I run from. They are the toll keepers that allow me to pass this arid wasteland. In return for their passage they require my last physical possession as a toll. A singularity of suffering is the portal they open before me. I form my hand into a fist, shaking it at my oppressors for demanding such a heavy fee. I kick the sand seeking to blind my tormenters. I kick and kick and kick, reverting to the preternatural impulse that guided me to my first victory of leaving the womb. Blinded by wrath, I unwittingly open a small pit in the sand before me.”

[Author]

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