Writings: Untitled Three

Approximate age: 16-17

The night was dark and cold. The elevator shaft was beside him. He waited patiently for the elevator to ding and arrive at his floor. It was the stairway. It was broken down. Underneath the floor was a pair of pants, yellow and withered with time. Who could have known what raced from store to store that night? It gave people thoughts. From house to house. Little rain was given. None was received. But why was there any reason to die? Because God has willed it. The chair sat on top of the table. “Too bad it was night,” it thought, “Potato chips are too salty!” the girl screamed. “This is the reason you give for your mother’s independent carpet shopping? Good Lord,” the counselor said.