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At The Door

This is the door through which we will go in this story. The proper ropes please, fifty meters. Ten more pallets of polystyrene. Sunscreen, mosquito spray. First aid kits. You are standing next to me while I speak into the cell phone.

You want something fantastic, but not fantasy. You want a surprise, but not a bad one. You want something new, but you already have an idea. For something truly new you would need to be born anew. You look at me from time to time. I can read your mind. That's part of my job. But for you, there is only the door. You look at your shoes. You are free to go.

Story by:

Rupprecht Mayer

submitted at 11:12pm

4 January 2012

Rupprecht Mayer's web: