It’s All Wrong

They re-built the world with the fragments that they found but they did not know how the world was supposed to go. The things that had been were not anymore but they kind of remembered what they should be and so they moulded and squeezed themselves into forms that mimicked what was but were in fact something new.

This was how the old man ended up sitting on the back of a large squat creature that was neither rhino nor elephant or even a dinosaur. A shed sat on the animals back with potted plants all around it, within it was the mans sleeping chair and towers of books that should have fallen over with the creatures gait.

The old man had a mission, that much he new, it was kind of hard wired into him, when ever he saw a young traveller he would stop and pause and if that traveller came over to him he would offer them one of the books. It was a special book that was to only go to the travellers, they often seemed excited about this – the thing that puzzled the old man though was that it did not seem to matter how many times he gave the damn book away – it would always turn up once more in his tittering piles.

Maybe one day he would read it.

Posted: Thursday, September 14th, 2017 @ 2:27 am
Categories: Flash Fiction, The Punks World.
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