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The dude at his desk... (short story)
As I type, I dont know why I type, it doesnt make sence, but what does in this crazy old world. Making you work and work.
He sat at that desk for hours typing, the very sound of hitting those keys over and over again was like white noise. Horrible! He sat there almost for five minutes with out blinking, his eyes were watering now. The heat over powering, the old fan kept on turning and turning producing nothing but stale hot air, like a rhinos breath.
He sat and sat, through sun and snow typing...
...typing for what, no not to be famous for a book or review, and no not extremely important work which had to be finished and he would have a years holiday and pay.
Just typing. Sweat pouring down his face, the keys stained with blood where his fingers had been scraped raw by annoying continious typing.
Enough to drive any sane man mad, but this was no sane man as you can probably gather by now.
For this man had one computer with one desk, for that was all he owned, he was contained in a little room with a little fan and a flickering light, like I said madness.
As I type, I dont know why I type, it doesnt make sence, but what does in this crazy old world. Making you work and work.
He sat at that desk for hours typing, the very sound of hitting those keys over and over again was like white noise. Horrible! He sat there almost for five minutes with out blinking, his eyes were watering now. The heat over powering, the old fan kept on turning and turning producing nothing but stale hot air, like a rhinos breath.
He sat and sat, through sun and snow typing...
...typing for what, no not to be famous for a book or review, and no not extremely important work which had to be finished and he would have a years holiday and pay.
Just typing. Sweat pouring down his face, the keys stained with blood where his fingers had been scraped raw by annoying continious typing.
Enough to drive any sane man mad, but this was no sane man as you can probably gather by now.
For this man had one computer with one desk, for that was all he owned, he was contained in a little room with a little fan and a flickering light, like I said madness.
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The dude at his desk... (short story)
As I type, I dont know why I type, it doesnt make sence, but what does in this crazy old world. Making you work and work.
He sat at that desk for hours typing, the very sound of hitting those keys over and over again was like white noise. Horrible! He sat there almost for five minutes with out blinking, his eyes were watering now. The heat over powering, the old fan kept on turning and turning producing nothing but stale hot air, like a rhinos breath.
He sat and sat, through sun and snow typing...
...typing for what, no not to be famous for a book or review, and no not extremely important work which had to be finished and he would have a years holiday and pay.
Just typing. Sweat pouring down his face, the keys stained with blood where his fingers had been scraped raw by annoying continious typing.
Enough to drive any sane man mad, but this was no sane man as you can probably gather by now.
For this man had one computer with one desk, for that was all he owned, he was contained in a little room with a little fan and a flickering light, like I said madness.
As I type, I dont know why I type, it doesnt make sence, but what does in this crazy old world. Making you work and work.
He sat at that desk for hours typing, the very sound of hitting those keys over and over again was like white noise. Horrible! He sat there almost for five minutes with out blinking, his eyes were watering now. The heat over powering, the old fan kept on turning and turning producing nothing but stale hot air, like a rhinos breath.
He sat and sat, through sun and snow typing...
...typing for what, no not to be famous for a book or review, and no not extremely important work which had to be finished and he would have a years holiday and pay.
Just typing. Sweat pouring down his face, the keys stained with blood where his fingers had been scraped raw by annoying continious typing.
Enough to drive any sane man mad, but this was no sane man as you can probably gather by now.
For this man had one computer with one desk, for that was all he owned, he was contained in a little room with a little fan and a flickering light, like I said madness.
Page: