Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Child Support by Zack Reeves (classic literature books txt) 📖
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- Author: Zack Reeves
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of them to the side brandishes a long knife.
“You know what we do with wise guys, kid?”
The voices begin to merge in my head. I cannot tell what is coming from where. But I sent them far away! No, I must have lost my grip on this human form. The Others warned me and I didn’t listen. I thought that this time I could get through it.
I attack the foremost hoodrat wildly, striking his face with my palm and watching him collapse on the cold concrete. The others restrain me, grabbing hold of my arms and stomping on my feet. I feel something slam into the back of my head. I begin to drift out of consciousness, and my last thoughts are of Lydia and that beautiful woman. I’ve failed them. I’m sorry, my love. I float into the safety of sleep.
“You know what we do with wise guys, kid?”
The voices begin to merge in my head. I cannot tell what is coming from where. But I sent them far away! No, I must have lost my grip on this human form. The Others warned me and I didn’t listen. I thought that this time I could get through it.
I attack the foremost hoodrat wildly, striking his face with my palm and watching him collapse on the cold concrete. The others restrain me, grabbing hold of my arms and stomping on my feet. I feel something slam into the back of my head. I begin to drift out of consciousness, and my last thoughts are of Lydia and that beautiful woman. I’ve failed them. I’m sorry, my love. I float into the safety of sleep.
FACT:
The nice man in the hospital tells me my name is John Anderson.
That’s all I know.
That’s all he knows.
The sky is so pretty today.
So green.
Publication Date: 11-27-2009
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