A Nightmare of Truth

A Story by Gracefool_Lyn

Another story I've started writing that will probably end up pretty dark. I'm not finished yet though.

    I don’t believe in reality. The whole world is a deception. Every truth that is told has been built out of lies, each another brick on the tower. Every image that has ever been shown is an illusion. How can one say otherwise when this is the truth? Yet, who can determine if what I say now is nothing more than lies? Who can prove it? Can’t I just deny any facts you claim to know?
    What is reality? What is this thing called truth? I don’t want a definition because whatever is said cannot be true. There are always exceptions to everything. Sometimes our dreams are reality, yet other times reality is nothing more than a dream...

    I hear the children’s laughter, yet cries of joy have turned into screams of terror. The sun is hidden from view. Never before has the sky been so dark, even in the darkest of night. A heavy fog looms in the air, and rain begins to pour from the heavens like tears trickling from sensitive eyes.
    A wild streak of white tears through the blackness. For a moment, the immense light brightens the horrid world. That is when I notice that the rain drops are scarlet-the color of blood.
    Above me, the thunderheads roar with laughter, mocking me, before shooting more bolts of electricity toward the despised earth. They scream at me in rage because I am not dead. I should be, but i haven’t yet joined the hundreds of broken bodies that now lay motionless on the reddened ground beneath the bleeding clouds. The bodies of children.
    “Out times,” a voice that is not one, but many, sighs. “Our times has come...”
    “No,” I protest weakly, my voice inaudible in comparison to the furious storm. “No!”

© 2011 Gracefool_Lyn

Author's Note

If anyone has any plot ideas for the rest of the story, they would be greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance.

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Coyote Poetry

A good lead for many types of story. I'm lucky I live where people are doing Ok. But nearby people are hungry and desperate. Could be base on our poor leadership. The 1.2 billion spend by the USA on war. Could feed and house the world. I like the feel and emotion of the chapter.
" They scream at me in rage because I am not dead. I should be, but i haven’t yet joined the hundreds of broken bodies that now lay motionless on the reddened ground beneath the bleeding clouds. The bodies of children."
A strong ending to a outstanding chapter.
Coyote