The grass saw streaks of mud as though it had been scarred by what the sky had left behind. An old faded sign read Cambridge road with some other withered signage scattered around the tarmac. Lights of green, red and yellow flooded the landscape with pollution. They seemed stronger and brighter than usual as to pierce ones eyes creating deception that the routes we travelled were normal shading the real purpose of the roads. They were not just roads they held a story from the start of their existence - the trucks that poured them ever so carefully when they were not short of polished and brand new. Now they were trodden on for their purpose was forgotten and they were part of your everyday life, white dotted lines that were now used to divide not to integrate. These roads were the ancient signs that they were responsible for such destruction and they weren't to be stopped, 'revolutionising' the world and creating dummy inventions to fool humankind. The bank to transfer money, the wheel to drive and the phone to communicate. But that is just simply dumbing down society waiting for the day...
YOU ARE READING
Food wars
General FictionJesses been working at the pizza shop for a few weeks now, but strange things have been happening and the deranged clients of it suddenly don't seem so deranged. There's many questions but he knows of one answer. Where the hell is Stuckey?
