*** This was a contest entry for a writing contest ***
One day I took a ballpoint pen out on a scaffolding and drew a window on my least favorite wall for the purpose
of pickled sorts. Where else would people throw their pickled eggs and
other pickled food items? In the trash? None of the many people in the
world that I know of throw their pickled sorts in trash cans. They throw
it at my wonderfully drawn window that I don’t particularly care for
because its not really a window. It’s a wall.
Embraced by stone, steeped in the clouds, I sat and listened to
them from the high window as the third day of the week surrendered to
the fourth. Down below the cacophony of experimental plants and
artificial moonlight, the cat-dog was hungrily weeping in the
corner—again. Time for work. Leaping down from my perch, I skillfully
grabbed my cliché lab coat as well as the cup of orange hot-chocolate
Annannie left out for me—all while still falling down the thin tube. I
had never enjoyed the thin tube, especially since I didn’t create it,
but it was so much more immediate than climbing down five flights of
stairs.
Oh! The past days were much easier, the days when no one knew about
the gadget. Back then, I had no need for a thin tube or a bigger lab
with multiple levels. No, I just needed a screwdriver and a few wires
and coils and that was that.
I was on my feet within a five-second moment. Without losing momentum I
turned and splashed food to where they were situated and efficiently
broke my un-breakable lamp in the process. I grumbled, crossing out the
un-breakable lamp idea on my clipboard. I strolled to the most amazing
idea of mine I’ve ever assimilated. I looked up from my notes.
Everything hates me, I suppose.
I expected to see a secretive sheet that covered what looked like a
heap of bolts. The bolts were also a disguise to cover the--
It was gone!
This is my favorite thing I've read of yours :)
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