Scratch

“Helium balloons are disappointing,” remarked a passerby wearing a strangely tilting black hat (purchased from a nearby store only minutes before, though he tried to act as though he had quite familiarized himself with it), who had owned many a helium balloon and had never before expressed his opinions on them but had quite often thought about it, especially that morning as he held the cup of now-lukewarm coffee in his hand, purchased just before the hat and not quite before the shoes he now wore, the receipts of all aforementioned items that were now lurking somewhere in the Starbucks trash bin, for he didn’t want anyone to know he had recently been such a “feckless spendthrift,” to use a phrase he had always dearly hated--or perhaps it was because he wanted to remain anonymous as possible, but no one really knew, for no one on the poplar-lined, curiously named Oak Avenue had seen his face or heard his name before, and he had not really gained any sentimentality for it or them yet, while he was spending his time mostly alone in a depressingly whitewashed old house on the corner of the broken gray road where many people stayed, but only temporarily; and so as he made this statement, making great pains not to make expectant eye contact with any other pedestrians, he clung to the hope that perhaps someone might remark on his strange and abrupt statement, and, when no one did so, began to stir at his unfinished espresso in embarrassed silence, now wishing that he had never said anything at all--but perhaps, he suggested to himself, no one had heard him; yes, that would be preferable, wouldn’t it--alas, the next moment, someone asked in polite indifference what he had said, and he only shrugged and said that now he couldn’t remember: this was certainly a lie if he had ever told one, for it drifted in the back of his mind all day, and sighing, he wrote in a crisp black notebook that evening, in his untidy, sloping hand--“Helium balloons are disappointing,” but no one ever knew exactly what he meant, even when it was discovered after his death some thirty years later in the same house.

lol what even is this
I wrote it and decided to make a lame topic in which you can uh
Post sentence-long stories 
Preferably overlong ones but I guess flash fiction works

Last edited by Wickimen (2012-08-04 21:24:11)