Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Without Existence

“I hate my job.”

He did not exist. Nobody ever noticed him. People barely knew he existed. If his neighbours were asked about his whereabouts, they could never say anything apart from his name.

“I hate my job but I need the money”, he thought as he looked keenly through the scope at the President.



PS. This is my first attempt at 55 fiction.


14 comments:

Purba said...

Ooof deadly!!

You nailed it, D2.

Bedlam said...

Woww!!
Nice job Abhi.. :)

D2 said...

@Purba : Thanks a lot. :D

@Tamanna Di : Thanks Di. :)

Zave said...

And let me tell you, it doesn't seem to be your first try at all.
Good job.
:)

D2 said...

Thanks, Zave. :D

Cherry Blossom said...

You are such an immense talent. I like the way you think and assemble your thoughts in words. Very few people can do so. Well conveyed. By the way, I read your poem The Never Ending Road. Not only this, almost all of the poems in the same series are wonderful. And the pictures... this is one thing that we share in common, I want my posts to be supported by pictures, But your pictures are much more colourful. Keep writing such good read.

Spunkysaturnine said...

Well written as ever :)

D2 said...

@Cherry Blossom :
Thank you so much.

@Spunky Saturnine :
Thanks a lot. :)

Vee... said...

Nice one! In your story, the assassination is plotted against a President much like what we have in Hollywood movies. did you think of this story from an American perspective? :P

D2 said...

Not really from an American perspective. I thought of the book, 'The Day Of The Jackal' by Frederick Forsyth, when I wrote this.
:)

Enchanta said...

*Shaken*

I am so in love with you.
You almost assassinated me!!

D2 said...

@Enchanta : No, the bullet would simply wizz past you! :D

Enchanta said...

Not if the assassin was you.
I'd gladly die.

D2 said...

@Enchanta : Said assassin would have a hard job killing you. :-|

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