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. Entropy and Other Musings by Happy Dagger (red novels TXT) 📖
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comprises most of the mass in water, oxygen is a dominant ingredient that resides in all living organisms."
Her students stared at her blankly and then leered greedily at the stick.
Meg shot them a sideways look, fearing a mutiny on her hands. Slowly, she said, "Oxygen makes up about twenty-one percent of the Earth's atmosphere. It accounts for nearly half..."
Even with her guard up, she could not imagine the speed at which they pounced on her. Hands, arms, and the stench of their bodies were only out matched by their ignorance. Fighting off their frenzied attempts, one of the students succeeded in snatching the stick from her grasp.
He ran to the nearest wall, dipping the stick in a small pot of red ochre and feverishly sketched images of humans. The remaining students released Meg and gathered around the savage artist - marveling at the beauty of his creations. They cooed and gurgled with wild pleasure and acceptance of his work.
Meg was furious. The lack of continuity and the way he was brandishing the stick, almost breaking it with every violent stroke, she could not stand for such desecration. The gall of these cretins was too much for her to endure. They had no respect for her, for themselves, and for the high honored standards of proper stick wielding.
She had to put an end to these pariahs and finish up her lesson about the power of oxygen, immediately.
Meg let out a banshee scream that flung the gang surrounding the primitive artist in every direction - kinetically with her voice. As the students shunted further away from Meg, the artist fell to the ground, curled up in a fetal position, dropping the stick, fearing the witch. With a flick of her wrist and the whispering of an incantation beneath her breathe, she summoned the stick from the dirt floor to her right hand.
Meg continued, "Each breath you take provides the much needed oxygen you need to live," She twirled the stick in a figure eight in the air, followed by the symbol O. All of the students grasped at their throats- choking. "Simply put, dying begins when your body does not get the oxygen it needs..."
Her eyes focused and bulging, Meg pointed that stick at her class with vigilant fervor; she covered more bullet points on facts regarding oxygen. As her students throats shut closed, the lecture ran on for over eight minutes.
Exhausted from the strain of her lecture, sucking up great gulps of air, Meg grew high with the excessive amounts of oxygen entering her lungs. In contempt, as she viewed the slumped-over students littered about the dirt floor, Meg said," There is just no enduring such disregard for rules and structure. It would be remiss of me to allow such low standards to flourish and sully those who strive for excellence."
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Her students stared at her blankly and then leered greedily at the stick.
Meg shot them a sideways look, fearing a mutiny on her hands. Slowly, she said, "Oxygen makes up about twenty-one percent of the Earth's atmosphere. It accounts for nearly half..."
Even with her guard up, she could not imagine the speed at which they pounced on her. Hands, arms, and the stench of their bodies were only out matched by their ignorance. Fighting off their frenzied attempts, one of the students succeeded in snatching the stick from her grasp.
He ran to the nearest wall, dipping the stick in a small pot of red ochre and feverishly sketched images of humans. The remaining students released Meg and gathered around the savage artist - marveling at the beauty of his creations. They cooed and gurgled with wild pleasure and acceptance of his work.
Meg was furious. The lack of continuity and the way he was brandishing the stick, almost breaking it with every violent stroke, she could not stand for such desecration. The gall of these cretins was too much for her to endure. They had no respect for her, for themselves, and for the high honored standards of proper stick wielding.
She had to put an end to these pariahs and finish up her lesson about the power of oxygen, immediately.
Meg let out a banshee scream that flung the gang surrounding the primitive artist in every direction - kinetically with her voice. As the students shunted further away from Meg, the artist fell to the ground, curled up in a fetal position, dropping the stick, fearing the witch. With a flick of her wrist and the whispering of an incantation beneath her breathe, she summoned the stick from the dirt floor to her right hand.
Meg continued, "Each breath you take provides the much needed oxygen you need to live," She twirled the stick in a figure eight in the air, followed by the symbol O. All of the students grasped at their throats- choking. "Simply put, dying begins when your body does not get the oxygen it needs..."
Her eyes focused and bulging, Meg pointed that stick at her class with vigilant fervor; she covered more bullet points on facts regarding oxygen. As her students throats shut closed, the lecture ran on for over eight minutes.
Exhausted from the strain of her lecture, sucking up great gulps of air, Meg grew high with the excessive amounts of oxygen entering her lungs. In contempt, as she viewed the slumped-over students littered about the dirt floor, Meg said," There is just no enduring such disregard for rules and structure. It would be remiss of me to allow such low standards to flourish and sully those who strive for excellence."
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Text: Happy Dagger
Images: Happy Dagger
Publication Date: 12-01-2012
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