writing

                           Figure                         Story#1  

    There was a dark figure in the distance. Not a great big figure like an elephant. Nor was it a tiny insignificant figure like a mouse, but a mediocre sized being. It stood almost 6-feet tall from top to bottom, and walked on two feet (How bizarre!). This being doesn’t seemed to have a goal or a destination, but it just wondered on and on for hours on a treeless wasteland, seeking for something that is no longer there. No one knows the origin of this being, or where it came from. It’s just there. It was the middle of August, and it’s snowing hard. The being seemed vulnerable to the coldness, but it didn’t have any cloth on, just a piece of rag, and a filthy one it is. A sea gull flied past the being, and thought, “This idiot” and flied away. A wolf which was hunting at the moment also saw the being; however it was a worthless prey. Occasionally, the being stumbled onto some objects. These objects were extremely ancient, and they’re littered all over the place. No one knows, but these were the remnants of a long forgotten civilization. There was another dark figure in the murky distance. It looked nothing like the being, and it’s probably a great deal bigger than the being. It is the first time the being has encountered anything like this, and it was somewhat frightened, though its curiosity is urging it to go closer. At a closer distance, the foreign object resembled a giant insect, but instead of having six legs, there were four hollow sockets. Two on each side of its shell. The object seemed “dead” enough, and it didn’t seem to pose any threat. The being moved on closer and closer, until it was standing right in front of it, staring. It was staring at little badge like thing that’s embedded on the metallic mass. The shiny thing stood out especially on the sea of rust. The being watched and gazed for hours as the being has never seen anything so beautiful. After an internal struggle, the primitive instinct of possession took over. The being snatched the shiny thing and ran, in fear that someone or something might’ve saw what it did. It ran and ran and ran. It ran from the waking of the sun, to the rising of the moon. It ran over the hills and into the jungle of concrete. It ran until it finally used up all of its energy, and collapsed in front of a colossal sign: “Welcome to New York City”, it reads. After that, the being never woke up. There it lied, and from the distance, it’s just another dark figure in the murky air, the last one of its kind…. Forgotten.