Mann616

Utopia Utopia, the perfect world, no bad things, no war, no death rape etc. It wouldn’t work. Man could never be like that on a world wide scale, its not in our nature. But, for argument’s sake, lets have a look at this: Ok, so there was a truly horrific time for man, you know all the bad things in like the space of a decade or something, the time doesn’t matter for this part, as long as its bad continuously. Whole sale slaughter, babies being killed and mutilated in front of parents (touch wood) ect. Its like a Stephan king novel, on speed, getting laid. Then, bang! The worlds perfect. BUT everyone remembers the bad ti

War. Lets have a good look at war. The reasons as to why the race called Man decides to take up arms against fellow Man. There are many, and most, if not all, are pointless. A ‘holy’ war? You really think your beloved ‘god’, of love and forgiveness, really wants to kill yourself and countless other creations? No I’m sorry I don’t buy that, if ‘god’ wanted to kill you, he’d do it himself with a flood or fire or something. For the most part, war (the conflict of two or more separate countries, governed by two separate bodies of administrations) has become a business, with material goals set by mat

The next morning.     John awoke with a start, jerking into a sitting position as pain throbbed in his back, where the pipe had connected. “Ow,” he said weakly slumping back into the pillows of his double bed, arms outstretched, eyes half closed, letting them get used to the sunlight streaming in through the windows of his bedroom. He looked across to the alarm clock on his bedside table, which read 11: 43am. Not bad considering I got in at about four, he thought as he lay there, listening to the sounds of his home, his mother moving about two floors below in either the kitchen or the front room, the radio playing an indistinguis

Chained up. Like the animal that’s taking over him, but they don't know, not yet at least. But they will. The man inside the beast, for it is this way now, not the other way. they are fighting each other for control of this body. Writhing in agony as they battle. "NO! Get away.., no you don't understand....KILL ME!" the man surfaced briefly before the beast slammed down on his mind. The chains snap taut as the raged animal struggles to be free, to be free and kill everyone. The scientists look at each other, slightly nervous. "Maybe we should shock him again" the man suggests. The woman nods to the guard who steps forward, pulling

Life. Its a hectic thing isn’t it? so many things happening, war, murder, rape, abortions, kidnappings so much hate and fear in the world that sometimes i wonder why we haven’t destroyed our selves (yet), or some higher being has looked down on us and decided we're not fit to live, some would say that its an evil god or something like that, but that’s bull, they’re just trying to shift the blame, to cover that fact that mankind are animals, first and foremost. (life was simpler when we drew on cave walls don’t you think?) "A weak man will pile up all his mistakes in life and call it destiny" this is one of the reas

That night. John sprinted through the dark alleyways, his long black jacket flying out behind him as he jumped over turned rubbish bins that his prey threw down in an effort to slow him down. He’d been chasing his man not long after leaving the funeral. He’d seen the man, roughly about twenty two, mug an old lady, and sped after him after checking that she was ok. The air was heavy, the rain having stopped, but threatening to return. Why is it always the old ladies? Come on try to break the cliché, he thought as he turned a corner, leading into a cross road of sorts, with five or six streets meeting at the point. He hadn’

The weather seemed to suit the occasion as rain lashed the ground with undiluted power, the wind trying its best to rip objects form the ground and hurl them away like an angry child with his toys. Despite nature’s fury, the young man, a boy really, felt none of it as he stare, unseeing at the wooden box that contained his best friend. A funeral. “A kind, light hearted boy who loved his friends. May God keep and love him.” The preachers words were almost lost amidst the rain and thunder, the boy could barely hear them even though he was in the front row. There were around a hundred people gathered to mourn the passing of

Running. Running though an old decrepit corridor, wallpaper peeling and mold on the walls. Bits of dust get in my eyes, I don’t know why I’m running, only that someone is chasing me, I can hear heavy footfalls shaking the floorboards, heavier breathing as if its an animal and not a man chasing me. Still running, I bust out into the open, or rather, out on to a roof, flat I keep on running, to the very edge.       Chasing, I’m chasing a phantom though old walkways, sprinting, not bothering with lightness, pounding the rotten floorboards under my feet as I gain on something just out of my reach, I start to pant as I hurtle a