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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1282422-Ants
by Sam
Rated: E · Short Story · Teen · #1282422
Not quite sure how to describe.
Every Sunday morning, Tim went to the vendor on the corner of his street and bought a newspaper for a dollar. Tim refused to get a newspaper subscription, because he never had time to read it during the week.
He left his house just like he did every Sunday morning. Everyone else was still in their beds. Tim liked it that way. He wouldn’t have to deal with the burden of friendly neighborly chitchat. Tim walked down to the little machine and fumbled in his jean pockets for the quarters. It was too early to remember which pocket he had put them in. When he finally found them, he put them in the quarter slot and heard the mechanical lock click. He opened the door and grabbed a newspaper and shut it with a loud bang. He heard the yappy dog that lived down the street bark.
On the way back he noticed something that he hadn’t before, a big anthill in someone’s yard. Tim kicked over the little sand mound. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. It could have been boredom or the little sense of power it gave him. He watched all black creatures come out of the pile of scattered sand that was once their little ant city. They all looked the same to him. Just one big swarm of black dots, scurrying around, trying to figure out what happened to their home.
Tim quickly grew bored of the ants. He walked home thinking of nothing but the big cup of coffee waiting for him. After pouring the all-important cup of coffee that made his mind function enough to read the newspaper, he sat down on his favorite chair with his coffee and newspaper at hand. He opened the newspaper to the front page and there was a picture of a middle-eastern city that had just been bombed. It was an aerial shot, so you could see all of the damage. There were hundreds of dead bodies lying on the ground. There were even more people gathered around the wreck, trying to make sense of what had happened or trying to find a loved one among all the ruble. Each one of these people, dead or alive, had their lives changed completely by an attacker they never saw. Every person that was killed had their own family and their own lives. But the picture was taken so high up, everyone looked the same. Tim shook his head and flipped to the sports section.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1282422-Ants