Stream of Consciousness
A GOOD MAN PART 1
Hello, you. This will be the first of several stories which I won't promote. No personal messages, no sharing links in groups, just letting the algorithm do its thing. That way, the people who read this will be those genuinely interested in reading, not because I force them to click on the link and scroll straight down. At most, two people will read this. If you are one of the two, thank you so much. Anyhow, this story is dedicated to those who are struggling to find purpose in life, frustrated at how nothing goes their way, and flabbergasted at how despite everything you do, in the end, when you look in the mirror, you fail to see someone of significance. Enjoy…
By Khairy Irwan Khushainiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Decree
Breathe. Breathe my son and know you are my son and my greatest success. Even after my death, you shall be the torchbearer, the match paper our crooked world needs. The sunrays through the darkness. My father's words echo through my head, when the pressure gets too much. The pressure to make change, to be change. For everyone. Verbal contempt. That's what anyone would call what the team had for me. Verbal contempt and actual cerebral hatred. There was no escape from the truth. Though the team would have been drowned under the pressure of banal prowess, but for my presence... my presence fuelled group repugnance towards me. Reasonable rancour may have been argued by some as reason for the words and thoughts. For the hardest of taskmasters, they came to know me. That has always been a problem, for people of my status. When you set yourself up as the leader of a worthy cause, you place a target for hauteur. When your followers cannot fully comprehend all that's necessary, the arrogance, the haughty ego of those who have the greater purpose of change. My mother always told me my future would be full of greatness, full of excellent endeavours and good for our people, our race. My father's shadow has followed me, led me, taught me throughout my years as a young boy, teenager and the adult that stands on the edge as the spearhead for the change our people want... no need. By self-assurance younger me was beaten. For not only was the future of our people on my shoulders, but so was the legacy of my ancestors. Change would always come, but as sure as the blood pumped through my body, change would come by my hands. However, the well deep scorn and barely masked obloquy they held onto, was beyond reasonable. They just had no respect for my role at the heart of the success of all we had done thus far. Rather than show any acknowledgement or thanks, they were more than happy, comfortably content even, a refusal to accept any part as leader. When asked for thoughts on each conquest that ended successfully, they would generally cower and utter rehearsed words of severance. A cop-out would be to say they feared me. Why would they fear me? They were the same as me and from the same background. They were not the target of my abhorrence. As long as they obeyed orders, worked for the cause and showed no mercy towards for our opposers, the lesser, they would see another day. Cruelty was never levelled at one of our own. Unless, of course, they erred. Complete support was necessary. Our new order could, would not be marred or polluted by our enemy. For the goodness and pureness of our race, we had to conquer all who stood as opposers to the new world. We had to clean the muck of our ancestors who danced among those of a lower class and stand. Too often when complacency has been allowed to take root, even on the cusp of greatness, a revolt could damn our endeavours to hell, the hell where our opposers, the mar, the smear, the dye to the naturalness, wholesomeness of our blood, our land. That, the clearest of goals, was why my team of expert commanders and veterans were treated as such. Though they were above the rats and the scum that had populated our land for too long, they were under my rule. The bold new world mapped out from my plans was of my own construct. As the sun sets on the new world of tolerance, tomorrow's sun shall blanket over the return of the old world. The one we lost. On the eve of war and the recommencement of what we had, my men look to me, not as a comrade, but as the one who, no matter what stands as an opposer to our cause, shall lead us from the darkness of complacency and so-called freedom of speech and thought. "The Decree" - as penned by our leader.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
The Whispering of Woods. AI-Generated.
**Part 3: The Guardian’s Legacy** *Scene 1: The Crystal’s Power* Lena stood in the dim light of the underground chamber, the glowing crystal in her hands. It pulsed with a gentle light, filling the room with a serene energy. As she held it, Lena felt a deep connection to the forest, as if the crystal was a bridge between her and the ancient powers that had shaped her family's destiny.
By Karl Nicken about a year ago in Fiction
Three Days Later. Content Warning.
It's been three days. Three days since I've seen my daughter. Since I've been able to watch her playing at the park. Since I've seen that bright smile flashed across her face. Three days. Oh, God, if you would've told me that I'd have to be away from her this long. Don't get me wrong. Officer Lincoln has treated my daughter's case as if it was his own daughter who had gone missing- he's spent every waking second for my little Kayley. Along with every other person, not just from our small town but from every neighboring town around ours.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreetabout a year ago in Fiction
The bloom of a rare Blue rose . Top Story - August 2024.
A rare untruth By lucky or unlucky chance, or by sheer happenstance, there came to me the knowledge of an untruth most hurtful to my gentle heart. The learned truth of your falsehood as concerns the rare blue rose. For the gorgeous and lovely flower that you gave to me comes not by the naturalness of nature, but by means of doctored alchemy.
By Novel Allenabout a year ago in Fiction
Long Lost Brother. Top Story - August 2024.
When I was told my brother was still alive, I didn't believe it. It had taken me twenty years to get over him being gone; I had very mixed feelings about seeing him again. Excitement? Yes. Anticipation? Yes. But something new that I had never felt before: fear.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
Guardian Angel — Preparation & Awareness
Daniel Hannford tuned out to the constant complaints from his three friends. He focuses on enjoying his delicious calzone, made with four-cheese sauce and slow-roasted chicken breast simmered in honey barbecue sauce, while they enjoy their meals at Fishetti’s Pizzario. He was painfully shoved back into now with a kick to his left shin from Joshua.
By Annelise Lords about a year ago in Fiction
World Peace
(This is an unofficial entry into the lipogram contest.) This is also a micro fiction story. What's all the world about. We all just want peace to love all people. No matter what's to do about every person and how to get people to love one another. There's a way to do what needs to be done. We just have to be able to see a way. One way we should be able to do World Peace could be to once again take part could be "Hands Around the World". How should we do such a project? We could ask questions, or we could just move along as we have been. World peace a concept that should be easy but not.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
