arxarts

Mornings in the African landscape are often described as being the most beautiful in the world. This was a morning likewise, and as the herds of gazelles charged westwards in search of food, lions woke at daybreak preparing an attack; crocodiles glided on the river and hippos swam in its muddy banks. The trees were quiet, but slowly life began to awake as the first brave birds breaking the silence of dawn were soon heard. In the middle of this African setting was Eddy, in a loincloth and between tall grass, snoring the hours away. He was free, and for the first time in his life he did not worry about much. If he wanted a drink he went to the

John Flumeberg was not an ordinary man. Sure, he lived in an ordinary apartment in the Upper West Side, he held a normal job at the local photocopy centre, and his ordinary routine was repetitive and usual. However, living 2000 years After the End of the World might cause certain problems for John. First, John's building had been half demolished over twenty centuries ago. The photocopy centre had been blown to smithereens and his ordinary routine of watching a cardboard box "television" and drinking motor oil "beer" was perfectly insane. But John was persistent. He kept attending his non-existing job; attempting to copy the same legal form

As the car's motor thrusts into your lower spine you suddenly realise you are dead. Tough luck, but that's what you get for texting while crossing at the middle of the street. Damn teachers were right all that time, follow the rules, live long, and hopefully prosper. But now you realise that there isn't any tunnel with the white light. It's all white light. But it's not a white light like the sun, blazing into your eyes as you stare into its endless inferno. It's a nice, comforting light, and this leads you to believe you are not in Hell's Halls. You're still here, in this white light room, waiting. You're probably wondering "where's Pete?"

I Harold Flemings was unto the world what some have hastily defined as normal. He was a man of a completely average 70 inches tall, 11 stone heavy, with fair brown hair, tanned marble skin and greenish brown eyes. He was by no means strange or abnormal and perhaps best described as the exemplar man a proud Christian father would want his daughter to wed. But for Harold life was little more than a simple 79.5 year waiting game. His fondness for hunting perhaps had its origin in underlying repressed anxieties, possibly emanating from his early childhood life when a young Harold experienced violence first-hand and seemed to enjoy this rush of

"Life is unpredictable at best, and I just don't know when you're going to understand that." He stood up and went towards the liquor cabinet. Upon opening it, he examined it for a short moment before pulling his head up and continuing his speech. "I know that maybe at this crossroad, you feel like you've got a lot of weight on your shoulders, but you don't, really. I mean, I understand why you did what you did, and to be honest I'm not that certain I would've, refrained, myself." He took out a bottle of vodka; but paused as he opened it. "You got any cranberry juice?" "No." "Okay." He put the bottle back into the cabinet, and slowly clo

Two hours after midnight a man walked from one end of his living room to the other, clutching a glass of whiskey on his left hand and looking out of his apartment through the narrow windows the hustle and bustle of downtown New York. It was not the sound that kept him awake, for years he had lived with it and still slept peacefully. His face had a stern look, and his fingers pressed hard upon the glass. He glanced at a passing taxi, and then turned his head down. He was defeated. He didn't know how to tell his wife. He didn't know how he was going to pay the tuition for his two boys' school. His car, a beautiful white Cadillac, gleaming in f

Long ago there was an ancient trading route between the river Tiber and the river Nile. Crossing through sea and land, between the sandy dunes, the earthly valleys and the salty oceans, dozens travelled on camelback to exchange their goods, information, and war. Kings from these times tried to grab that parcel of land, that land that was once known as Canaan, and sought to control the trade, and in many ways, the world that was theirs. Later on, after the fall of the great men of Egypt, when their tombs were no longer kept and the tips of their halls and towers faded into dust and sand, new men, of lesser birth tried to capture it. The two c