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This story is about a man being used to city life waking up on an island of total relaxation.
Enjoy reading it.
City Man
Riding through the streets of town, People chattering on their communication gadgets, Men and women rushing in their posh black suits to work. Cars thunderously roaring their engines past, while beeping and spilling out poison through the rear of their machine.
Business’s and shops opening there doors, at their usual time, for their usual day. All bakery’s and cafés packed working against each other, to supply delicious food for those who starve and demand they’re breakfast. The so so tempting smell just flowing under my very nose. The awful and tedious noise of road works in the back ground; drilling awful sounds in to my ear aswel as in the roads. Empty cans and litter strolling across the flags on the floor screeching & broadcasting their ugly sounds across buildings echoing down the streets. Birds squealing as they do in a morning looking for their feast to fill there stomach .I look Up to the morning sky to see traditional British weather, Black clouds pregnant with rain, combined with Helicopters flying past feeding traffic news to their radio stations, Planes racing across the skies to arrive to their destination while dragging their long pollution fuel trails along with them.
On my left I notice the modern & newly built train station, masses of workers waiting for their daily working train. Glancing at their time devices, expressions on their face saying “where is this damn train!” anger shining upon them on all, like the sun glowing on the earth.
Then the noise of a train fed in to my ear. Chugging along the tracks. The relief of hundreds of workers showers the station. A big rush of people aiming to board the train first. Shoving rushing and pushing even before the train has come to a Holt. It seems getting on the train is more important than falling to the tracks.
A lorry flies past me, coming inches with in with own two feet, honking its low pitched horn at me, as if to say I was in the wrong. I look to my left and I see the train departing, chugging away again with all its passengers. I hear the lorry beeping again, but is no where to be seen. I hear litter rolling across the floor again, but is not in site.
Then I hear the town hall bells distributing their jingly noise across the town. I move my eyes towards the sky high clock, nine am it reads. My ears open to the sound of someone playing on their bongo drums, sounds exactly like the train chugging along. The litter riding across the floor sounded like a bird pecking on some sort of hard material. I hear a loud and horrible fog horn, sounded like the lorry rushing past me. Confused as I was I couldn’t move. I open my eyes as they came in to focus; I was staring at the clock. My brain half asleep struggling to read the time on it, I concentrate more, Nine am it reads. I stroll my eyes across the room, where am I?
My covers feel like brick, the same rough bricks I have on my house. I look down to find they’re saturated with sand; I lift the covers to hear a tingly sound of all the sand dropping and bouncing on the floor.
I raise my body up and walk towards the window. The first thing I notice is that there is no black clouds in the sky, not one to be seen, just a sky full of a exotic blue. As I glance to the left of the window the sea dominates my eye site. To the right I see miles and miles of golden sand dominating the majority of the land I see. To the right I see a black Caribbean man, playing on his metal drum. The soft and gentle sounds fed in to my ear and softly pulse at my ear drum. Relaxation sets in to my mind.
I move my hands to the lock on the window undo the latch and swiftly push it away from me. As the window opens. I feel a sudden blast of heat at my face, my eyes dry up with in seconds and shut, then a gentle warm breeze cools my face down. I open my eyes and my ears tap in to the wondrous sounds of the waves. With the breeze brings along the smell of the sea, the smell of the fish and the smell of the sweet coconuts dangling from the palm tree.
People walking past, there daily lives consisting of walking about, exploring where they can. They rush to be no where, a life style of complete relaxation. Where can life on this island go wrong?
Where ever I am, how ever I got here. Being here is like being where your mind wants you to be.
Enjoy reading it.
City Man
Riding through the streets of town, People chattering on their communication gadgets, Men and women rushing in their posh black suits to work. Cars thunderously roaring their engines past, while beeping and spilling out poison through the rear of their machine.
Business’s and shops opening there doors, at their usual time, for their usual day. All bakery’s and cafés packed working against each other, to supply delicious food for those who starve and demand they’re breakfast. The so so tempting smell just flowing under my very nose. The awful and tedious noise of road works in the back ground; drilling awful sounds in to my ear aswel as in the roads. Empty cans and litter strolling across the flags on the floor screeching & broadcasting their ugly sounds across buildings echoing down the streets. Birds squealing as they do in a morning looking for their feast to fill there stomach .I look Up to the morning sky to see traditional British weather, Black clouds pregnant with rain, combined with Helicopters flying past feeding traffic news to their radio stations, Planes racing across the skies to arrive to their destination while dragging their long pollution fuel trails along with them.
On my left I notice the modern & newly built train station, masses of workers waiting for their daily working train. Glancing at their time devices, expressions on their face saying “where is this damn train!” anger shining upon them on all, like the sun glowing on the earth.
Then the noise of a train fed in to my ear. Chugging along the tracks. The relief of hundreds of workers showers the station. A big rush of people aiming to board the train first. Shoving rushing and pushing even before the train has come to a Holt. It seems getting on the train is more important than falling to the tracks.
A lorry flies past me, coming inches with in with own two feet, honking its low pitched horn at me, as if to say I was in the wrong. I look to my left and I see the train departing, chugging away again with all its passengers. I hear the lorry beeping again, but is no where to be seen. I hear litter rolling across the floor again, but is not in site.
Then I hear the town hall bells distributing their jingly noise across the town. I move my eyes towards the sky high clock, nine am it reads. My ears open to the sound of someone playing on their bongo drums, sounds exactly like the train chugging along. The litter riding across the floor sounded like a bird pecking on some sort of hard material. I hear a loud and horrible fog horn, sounded like the lorry rushing past me. Confused as I was I couldn’t move. I open my eyes as they came in to focus; I was staring at the clock. My brain half asleep struggling to read the time on it, I concentrate more, Nine am it reads. I stroll my eyes across the room, where am I?
My covers feel like brick, the same rough bricks I have on my house. I look down to find they’re saturated with sand; I lift the covers to hear a tingly sound of all the sand dropping and bouncing on the floor.
I raise my body up and walk towards the window. The first thing I notice is that there is no black clouds in the sky, not one to be seen, just a sky full of a exotic blue. As I glance to the left of the window the sea dominates my eye site. To the right I see miles and miles of golden sand dominating the majority of the land I see. To the right I see a black Caribbean man, playing on his metal drum. The soft and gentle sounds fed in to my ear and softly pulse at my ear drum. Relaxation sets in to my mind.
I move my hands to the lock on the window undo the latch and swiftly push it away from me. As the window opens. I feel a sudden blast of heat at my face, my eyes dry up with in seconds and shut, then a gentle warm breeze cools my face down. I open my eyes and my ears tap in to the wondrous sounds of the waves. With the breeze brings along the smell of the sea, the smell of the fish and the smell of the sweet coconuts dangling from the palm tree.
People walking past, there daily lives consisting of walking about, exploring where they can. They rush to be no where, a life style of complete relaxation. Where can life on this island go wrong?
Where ever I am, how ever I got here. Being here is like being where your mind wants you to be.
The reason no-one commented is because you posted in in possibly the least busy forum on the site, no-one comes here...
You should have posted it in FOG Chat, at least there you would have got replies. Don't post it now though, just note it for the future.
You should have posted it in FOG Chat, at least there you would have got replies. Don't post it now though, just note it for the future.
poor me
No one comented.
This story is about a man being used to city life waking up on an island of total relaxation.
Enjoy reading it.
City Man
Riding through the streets of town, People chattering on their communication gadgets, Men and women rushing in their posh black suits to work. Cars thunderously roaring their engines past, while beeping and spilling out poison through the rear of their machine.
Business’s and shops opening there doors, at their usual time, for their usual day. All bakery’s and cafés packed working against each other, to supply delicious food for those who starve and demand they’re breakfast. The so so tempting smell just flowing under my very nose. The awful and tedious noise of road works in the back ground; drilling awful sounds in to my ear aswel as in the roads. Empty cans and litter strolling across the flags on the floor screeching & broadcasting their ugly sounds across buildings echoing down the streets. Birds squealing as they do in a morning looking for their feast to fill there stomach .I look Up to the morning sky to see traditional British weather, Black clouds pregnant with rain, combined with Helicopters flying past feeding traffic news to their radio stations, Planes racing across the skies to arrive to their destination while dragging their long pollution fuel trails along with them.
On my left I notice the modern & newly built train station, masses of workers waiting for their daily working train. Glancing at their time devices, expressions on their face saying “where is this damn train!” anger shining upon them on all, like the sun glowing on the earth.
Then the noise of a train fed in to my ear. Chugging along the tracks. The relief of hundreds of workers showers the station. A big rush of people aiming to board the train first. Shoving rushing and pushing even before the train has come to a Holt. It seems getting on the train is more important than falling to the tracks.
A lorry flies past me, coming inches with in with own two feet, honking its low pitched horn at me, as if to say I was in the wrong. I look to my left and I see the train departing, chugging away again with all its passengers. I hear the lorry beeping again, but is no where to be seen. I hear litter rolling across the floor again, but is not in site.
Then I hear the town hall bells distributing their jingly noise across the town. I move my eyes towards the sky high clock, nine am it reads. My ears open to the sound of someone playing on their bongo drums, sounds exactly like the train chugging along. The litter riding across the floor sounded like a bird pecking on some sort of hard material. I hear a loud and horrible fog horn, sounded like the lorry rushing past me. Confused as I was I couldn’t move. I open my eyes as they came in to focus; I was staring at the clock. My brain half asleep struggling to read the time on it, I concentrate more, Nine am it reads. I stroll my eyes across the room, where am I?
My covers feel like brick, the same rough bricks I have on my house. I look down to find they’re saturated with sand; I lift the covers to hear a tingly sound of all the sand dropping and bouncing on the floor.
I raise my body up and walk towards the window. The first thing I notice is that there is no black clouds in the sky, not one to be seen, just a sky full of a exotic blue. As I glance to the left of the window the sea dominates my eye site. To the right I see miles and miles of golden sand dominating the majority of the land I see. To the right I see a black Caribbean man, playing on his metal drum. The soft and gentle sounds fed in to my ear and softly pulse at my ear drum. Relaxation sets in to my mind.
I move my hands to the lock on the window undo the latch and swiftly push it away from me. As the window opens. I feel a sudden blast of heat at my face, my eyes dry up with in seconds and shut, then a gentle warm breeze cools my face down. I open my eyes and my ears tap in to the wondrous sounds of the waves. With the breeze brings along the smell of the sea, the smell of the fish and the smell of the sweet coconuts dangling from the palm tree.
People walking past, there daily lives consisting of walking about, exploring where they can. They rush to be no where, a life style of complete relaxation. Where can life on this island go wrong?
Where ever I am, how ever I got here. Being here is like being where your mind wants you to be.
Enjoy reading it.
City Man
Riding through the streets of town, People chattering on their communication gadgets, Men and women rushing in their posh black suits to work. Cars thunderously roaring their engines past, while beeping and spilling out poison through the rear of their machine.
Business’s and shops opening there doors, at their usual time, for their usual day. All bakery’s and cafés packed working against each other, to supply delicious food for those who starve and demand they’re breakfast. The so so tempting smell just flowing under my very nose. The awful and tedious noise of road works in the back ground; drilling awful sounds in to my ear aswel as in the roads. Empty cans and litter strolling across the flags on the floor screeching & broadcasting their ugly sounds across buildings echoing down the streets. Birds squealing as they do in a morning looking for their feast to fill there stomach .I look Up to the morning sky to see traditional British weather, Black clouds pregnant with rain, combined with Helicopters flying past feeding traffic news to their radio stations, Planes racing across the skies to arrive to their destination while dragging their long pollution fuel trails along with them.
On my left I notice the modern & newly built train station, masses of workers waiting for their daily working train. Glancing at their time devices, expressions on their face saying “where is this damn train!” anger shining upon them on all, like the sun glowing on the earth.
Then the noise of a train fed in to my ear. Chugging along the tracks. The relief of hundreds of workers showers the station. A big rush of people aiming to board the train first. Shoving rushing and pushing even before the train has come to a Holt. It seems getting on the train is more important than falling to the tracks.
A lorry flies past me, coming inches with in with own two feet, honking its low pitched horn at me, as if to say I was in the wrong. I look to my left and I see the train departing, chugging away again with all its passengers. I hear the lorry beeping again, but is no where to be seen. I hear litter rolling across the floor again, but is not in site.
Then I hear the town hall bells distributing their jingly noise across the town. I move my eyes towards the sky high clock, nine am it reads. My ears open to the sound of someone playing on their bongo drums, sounds exactly like the train chugging along. The litter riding across the floor sounded like a bird pecking on some sort of hard material. I hear a loud and horrible fog horn, sounded like the lorry rushing past me. Confused as I was I couldn’t move. I open my eyes as they came in to focus; I was staring at the clock. My brain half asleep struggling to read the time on it, I concentrate more, Nine am it reads. I stroll my eyes across the room, where am I?
My covers feel like brick, the same rough bricks I have on my house. I look down to find they’re saturated with sand; I lift the covers to hear a tingly sound of all the sand dropping and bouncing on the floor.
I raise my body up and walk towards the window. The first thing I notice is that there is no black clouds in the sky, not one to be seen, just a sky full of a exotic blue. As I glance to the left of the window the sea dominates my eye site. To the right I see miles and miles of golden sand dominating the majority of the land I see. To the right I see a black Caribbean man, playing on his metal drum. The soft and gentle sounds fed in to my ear and softly pulse at my ear drum. Relaxation sets in to my mind.
I move my hands to the lock on the window undo the latch and swiftly push it away from me. As the window opens. I feel a sudden blast of heat at my face, my eyes dry up with in seconds and shut, then a gentle warm breeze cools my face down. I open my eyes and my ears tap in to the wondrous sounds of the waves. With the breeze brings along the smell of the sea, the smell of the fish and the smell of the sweet coconuts dangling from the palm tree.
People walking past, there daily lives consisting of walking about, exploring where they can. They rush to be no where, a life style of complete relaxation. Where can life on this island go wrong?
Where ever I am, how ever I got here. Being here is like being where your mind wants you to be.