Hello World

Hello World, you can have my hopes and dreams; you killed them before they were born. You robbed me of them before I even knew them. You took my could be's.

Now I stand before you bereft and naked, barren of soul and will.

Aimless I come to you and ... die with each step.

Why did you kill me? What was my crime?

You came to me as a lover in my youth; tempting me with candied futures. You led me with golden dreams of varied sort, and now you betray me.

Give me back the Dream. Replace the veil you took from me so stealthily and cruelly. Restore to me my innocence.

Please.

All you have left me is the hollow truth of now; a horror I cannot abide.

Hello World, close my eyes.

Sign Here

Once upon a time, I wrote on the site Writer's On The Loose. While there I assisted in establishing an unofficial but now somewhat traditional semiannual short story contest with "Pump Primer" contests between. (A Pump Primer is a really short story written to a prompt; a type of writing exercise to get the juices flowing for the short story contest.) With the completion of the contest on July 3, I decided to bring my entry here. Eventually, I plan to rehash this story and work out the kinks.

I encourage any interested to participate in the upcoming Pump Primer contest this September, and the Short Story contest this December.

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Sign Here

Donny was sitting on his front stoop enjoying the summer sun, when a young man in white shirt and tie, holding a clipboard approached. The lad was remarkably clean cut and bore himself with a calm assurance. Donny waited with the curiosity of those being intruded upon. The lad smiled.

"Mr. Smith?," the lad asked. "I'm Thomas from -"

"I don't want any," Donny said."

"That's good, because I'm not selling any," Thomas said. He was laughing lightly.

"Then what do you want?"

"As I was saying, my name is Thomas, and I'm from the Rapture Appointment Department."

"The Rapture Appointment Department? Is that some kind of cult?"

"No sir. We're not a cult. We're just making everyone's appointments for the Rapture so that it goes off smoothly; can't have everyone ascending at the same time.  It'd just jam up the entrance, you know."

"You're messing with me, aren't you kid?"

"It's Thomas, and no sir. I've been duly authorized to schedule you for a time of your convenience on December twenty-first of this year."

"No one knows the day nor the hour," Donny said. He was a bit worried about this young man.

"Oh that's just bureaucratic speak, sir," Thomas said. "Administrators have to know when. Otherwise it'd just be chaos. There's housing and transportation to consider. And the Gates are only so wide. Then there's the judging; without proper planning that would take eternity right there."

"Uh..." Donny looked around, but couldn't see any neighbors, though a car was coming down the street. "What do I have to do to make you go away?"

"It's very simple, sir. Are you willing to take the time slot of 10:59:45 AM Central Time?"

"What for?"

"Your Rapturing of course. I just need you to sign here saying that you agree."

"I'm not signing anything."

"I can't process your appointment without your signature, Mr. Smith."

"You just be on your way."

"But Mr. Smith -"

"Just go away."

"I'll just pencil you in, then?"

"Do that. You just go away."

Thomas scribbled on his notepad. He sighed, then said "You know, Mr. Smith. This is harder than I thought it'd be. No one seems to believe me."

"I can't imagine why. Now leave."

"Alright, Mr. Smith. I have to check in and report anyway," Thomas said. "See you on the Winter Solstice."

"Whatever," Donny said.

Before Donny's eyes, Thomas vanished into thin air. Donny starred for a long while, then frantically looked up and down the street. Thomas was no where to be seen. Carefully and slowly Donny went in his house and tried to forget. After all who'd believe him.

End.