Jason Andreas (jasonandreas) wrote in jasonstories,
Jason Andreas
jasonandreas
jasonstories

FictionFactFantasyReality

Rubbish drifted through the streets like tumbleweed. Old crisp packets, chocolate wrappers and newspapers. The detritus of average city existance. Society's mark. They created a cacophany of colours and shapes, pleasing to the eye and the soul. We would sit there for hours, just watching the movements. How odd it was, we would often remark, that the wind always seemed to blow in tiny little circles, cascading the colours in its wake...

Another dream...

The sunlight streamed through the classroom windows. It only served to make us all the more restless. Why, we asked ourselves, are we stuck inside a dreary building on such a glorious day? Why have to sit through mundane diatribes on history that we'd never have want nor cause to think of ever again? Could we not be outside, skinning our knees, constructing epic adventures from nothing more than a plank of wood and an old toy sword? We felt that first real twinge of the unfairness that haunts adult life that afternoon, and we didn't like it one bit...

Another fiction...

Catcalls echoed through the trees. Gleeful laughter and shouts of joy were the delighted result of another passage over the stream. The rope creaked lazily in the afternoon breeze as boy after boy made the invigorating swing from bank to bank. The rope swing had been there for as long as any of us could remember, perhaps even further back than our older brothers could remember. We fancied that it had been there since the dawn of time, growing older with the world, watching each generation come and go from its vantage point in the tree. It surprised us all the more, then, when it snapped and sent the new boy shrieking down to the bottom. As he lay there unmoving, his body twisted oddly over the rocks, I think we all knew that he was never going to walk again...
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