Hello guys, how ya’ll doing, I had a really hectic day. I was today pondering on what to post and the only thing that stuck to me was to tell a short story. The story to write then became the problem, I eventually came up with this, enjoy.
In a far, far away land there lived a man. He was born after the second world war, growing up he liked to take long walks along the country side and collect every bullet he could find. He collected bullets polished them and kept them in a wooden box. He grew up, got married, had kids and built himself a large house. Time passed and his kids too grew up and moved away in search of greener pastures, his wife died but all he had left was his bullets collection. Now an old man he would take out each bullet from the wooden box, dust and shine them. One day he took himself into town, then came some men with a truck who burgled his house and took everything they could find. When the old man came back and found his house in a mess, he didn’t even bother about the Tv or the VCR, he ran straight for his wooden box only to find them gone. The men with the truck who burgled his house went into another city and sold off their loot, they couldn’t sell the bullets though because they were life rounds. The men then dug a hole and buried the bullets in the ground. The old man had just the bullets he had gone to town to collect that day of the burglary, which he used in restarting his collection. He doesn’t leave the house anymore, as he’s scared the men would come back and take his bullet collection. He died clinching a box of bullets, sitting in an old rocking chair in the large house he built.
The story is an excerpt from a song I have come to love, ” Bullets” by Passenger. Tell me what you think about the story in the comments section. Till next time stay tuned..