A.R.A.O.S.S.T.M.N.S.W

[Politics]

A random assortment of short stories that make no sense whatsoever.
Critique is appreciated and allowed. I'd be happy to have constructive criticism.
If you can connect the dots between these stories, kudos to you! Each story isn't directly connected to each other, but involve the same protagonist.
Have fun? And follow Tess's rules.


Story list?? Nah, not really.
-Never the same, in a garden of a trillion flowers.
-The 60s were cool.
-Reactant.
-Falling up?
-88°

[Politics]

A splintering pain seeped through the edges of his wound. Red dribbled out, mimicking more a babbling brook than any blood could be. That one fateful kiss of the bullet was enough to send him tumbling down. His suit was rumpled. His tie lazily strewn up his collar, of which was wrinkled and carelessly tousled in two different directions. The two topmost buttons were missing In action, off to live forever out of reach of the young man to which they served. A golden watch glinted in the morning light, barely grasping onto his strong wrist.
An ancient quiet had arisen where he lay. The silence of death, of angelic harmony, and of ear-ringing soundlessness. A silence that had tailed man closely, waiting for demise, war, and meloncoly to return once more, filling the ears of humankind. A silence whose sole purpose was to feast on the kindling hopes of the earth. It was unbearable. The nothingness of it lured out all will to live, burning it in the flames of despair. Silence was a killer. A killer whom he knew very well.
What did he do wrong? Why was...this happening so soon? Too many questions whirred in his head like locusts ready to feast. They picked and prodded at all of the potential he was wasting. As he, himself, was wasting away, slowly leaving this world on a sharp note. He had left the song of himself unfinished. A lacklustre end to a legacy. A climax cut off at the biggest turning point. The reality sent panic drilling into his heart, letting loose a rampaging heartbeat.
A grand, sweeping garden lay above him.
He felt himself loosing his grip.
The warm air perambulated and danced about his flank. The soft, gentle carpeting of grass that lay below blanketed his sense of reality. The carnations and roses caressed his skin, preparing his deathbed with silent consoling. The small flecks of light that were cast down upon him seemed to blur and glow, melting into the world. The curtain would soon come to a close. This prefecture of Old Tristis had always been a dangerous one. Yet...was also renowned for being the most appealing. Rolling hills crowned the large estates. Masterful gardens were filled with flowers that seemed to be crafted with the very stars in the sky. Miles sweeping, open feilds coveted by lush forest. Warm, pillowy sunlight in every season. Gentle breezes that blessed the flowing waves of wheat and tall grass. The very heavens seemed infatuated with the place. And that is here he laid now.
Orange eyes took one last glance at the world.
It was beautiful.

[Politics]

reserved.

[Politics]

reserved.