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Title Here

  It lay upon the ground, carelessly tossed aside.  It was abandoned by its owner.  Sunlight bleached the color from it until nothing could be seen of it but a small square of white.  A slight wind would stir the pages from time to time, but never again would they be turned with purpose.  Never again would the decaying book be read.  Holes riddled the pages from cover to cover.  Once, the words had been devoured by students seeking to gain knowledge from its pages.  Now it was being eaten by insects, termites that gained sustenance from the pages themselves, rather than those words.

   The sun beat down upon the book's closed cover.  Time worked its own magic upon it, until at last the title had vanished, washed away into oblivion.  Rain and snow left their own marks.  The pages warped in the wet puddles that formed.  The paper hardened with the return of the relentless sun.

   Mold began to grow into the crusted pages, gluing them together.  Eventually, the pages would stick together as one.  Even now, only the cover and a sparse scattering of them remained independent.  The dark, black fungus claimed its victim as the insects crawled through the depths.  Breezes blew the dusty leavings of the insects away.  Some day soon, the entire tome would be reduced to that dust as they strove to satisfy their unquenchable hunger.

   It had been a long time since anyone had turned these pages with interest.  Once this fine tome had been set atop a fine oak bookcase.  Now it sat in a field where grass grew around it.  Eventually, the grass would take root inside of it and speed the decay.  Dirt, dust, weeds, and bushes littered the field around it.  This vacant lot would be its final resting place.

   The title was gone, forgotten over time.  The cover art was reduced to the same white rectangle.  Despite the decay that traced its way through the pages, the cover seemed somehow new, as if waiting for something.  It seemed somehow to be waiting for a new beginning, for someone to happen across it and grant it a new title.  It seemed to wait for a new life.
 by GoldenPanther

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CityCowboy
Subject: Poetic May 22nd, '03 3:20pm

Well here again you sohw that you have a knack for poetry.  This short short story is a great beginer to an awesome novel.  

If I were a creative writing teacher I would use this peice and have my students expand on the idea.

However; it ended with a thud, and the word "it" ws used about 100 times. (I didnt actualy count)

so I am giving you a 7!

Verry Cool!



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GoldenPanther
Subject: Bah May 23rd, '03 12:09pm

I was simply taking a random idea and expanding it into a paper I could turn in for class.  Hence the "School Paper" genre.  I couldn't think what I wanted to present my descriptive paper on (our assignment that night) so I sat in front of a computer and started formatting the paper.  "Name... top right corner... date just below... title next line, bigger font size, underlined... I'll just put Title Here where I want it... now what do I write about?  Title here... titl.. oh!"

Thus was the discarded paperback born to this earth.  You try writing a first draft of final draft quality when all you have to work with is an old book lying in a field ;) it it it :)


I'm the aged panther of the darkest reaches of your inner psyche.  Or something.
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