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World Peace

by Aster Blackwell | Score: 6000

It's only after world peace is finally achieved that you realize that the world's version of "peace" is actually quite different than an individual's version of peace.

Nobody is dying in wars anymore, which is of course a good thing. But people are dying of other things. Suicide, and disease, and things like that. The little things in life still hurt. Maybe even a bit more, because we have so much time to worry about ourselves now that there's no wars to worry about. Time to worry about things like the discolored shirt button on your favorite button-up. Time to worry about the look of depression behind the eyes of the pizza delivery man. He's got something real to depress him. Something present, not a war that's a million miles away. It's weird to think that way.

So, yes, there are no wars and everyone is united, at least in law. We're not united in a lot of other things, though. I don't want to list them.

Just now I heard a strange noise from upstairs. It's quite late at night and I'm not looking forward to checking it out. Something probably just fell over in the attic. If there's a murderer in my house, that's fine I guess. It would be an exciting way to die. I'd be on the news and everything. I'd get two whole sentences on the radio.

The computer stings my eyes as I type. I should probably sleep, but I really don't want to. I wanted to write about world peace or something like that, but I find there's not a whole lot to write about that hasn't already been written. And I don't know if my jaded view on it is acceptable.

It really is an amazing thing. I said that already, but I know I didn't sound very genuine. I haven't slept much the past couple days. It's hard to sound genuine when you're so tired.

I have lost my train of thought. I will think about something else.

There's a feather duster sitting on my desk to my left. It's made of these lovely brown and white mottled feathers. They kinda fade to a darker color at the tips. I've never used it. It is kind of tacky on the desk. I keep it there anyway. It looks sort of like an alien plant. I'm really bad at taking care of plants so it
only fits that I'd have a feather duster instead. That's pretty sad, isn't it? Would it be more or less sad if I got a fake plant to replace it? I feel like that would almost be an insult to the feather duster. What does a feather duster see as an insult?

This essay has gone all over the place. I don't really like it anymore. I almost wish I had continued to talk about world peace. I guess I could swing back over there, but it feels cheap now.

Yesterday I saw on the news that they still haven't tracked down the hacker that busted into the pentagon. He--or she--stole some important stuff. The kinda stuff they won't even specify on the news because it's that important. They're really spooked about what the hacker is going to do with it. They haven't received any demands yet.

So yeah, we have world peace I guess. Not really.

Completed challenges

The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:

Begin Start typing to begin
Event World peace is achieved
Letter Use the letter U
Words Reach 50 words
Prop Include a shirt button
Words Reach 100 words
Character A miserable delivery driver
Letter Use the letter I
Event There's a strange noise
Words Reach 200 words
Prop Include a radio
Words Reach 300 words
Letter Use the letter S
Event Your character hasn't slept in days
Words Reach 400 words
Prop Include a feather duster
Words Reach 500 words
Event Important data is stolen

This story was written using Taleforge, the free writing exercise app powered by The Story Shack. Curious? Try it yourself.

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