Warning: I decided to skip the main frame and write the main ideas from which I decided to write this story before I forgot them.
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"So who are you? Another tiny scumbag?" The man sitting on the huge machine gun asked. Men around us laughed at his comment. He looked like a teen, approximately 17, he was built for his age, but his skin was as pale as moonlight. He had eyebags under his eyes like he hadn't slept in weeks. His long cyan hair with orange stripes was tied into a messy bun. I felt scared under his stormy and cold stare. "Are you going to answer me?" He asked.
"My name is Solarius Nathan Architect!" I tried to act proud and seem tougher than I was. "I've heard of someone with your name." The bluehaired man spoke.
"Are you a poet? You definitely seem like one." I hitched. "You seem like a person to write about birds and bees." He wondered.
"The names Logan, by the way." Logan mentioned. I noted it out on my mind.
"Can I ask you something personal Logan?" I whispered. "Go ahead." He spoke, hearing me over the loud sounds of the bar, from where he was sitting on his throne. "What's it take to kill a turtledove?" "A shit ton of ammo that's for sure!" He answered and the public laughed with him.
YOU ARE READING
"What's it take to kill a turtledove?"
General FictionA male poet that has been accidentally sent onto another planet to battle against governments opposing government and the poet is trying to get back home to his lover. While on another planet he makes an unusual friend with punks that are waiting fo...
