Published
Summoning The Filth
The first man asked with a low deep tone what is the amount that you have? the other man answered and the excitement dripping from his mouth with the words “Well how many do you need? One, two universes of metal and iron scrap?! No problem I can provide you with that.” The background of this conversation was black hills of scrap and the sky is painted with dark orange like a middle eastern sandstorm, in the horizon you could see columns of black smoke across the sky rising from factories, factories built to favorably provide (kill) you with the materials you like… the materials you spend your short life on making your awfully smelling lovely green harsh papers to exchange with these materials.
As soon as I opened the door an ugly massive grey metal ball stroke me in the face and left me unconscious, my dad heard the noise that my body made when I fell by the metal door to the floor and ran towards me, helped me to stand on my feet and walked me slowly back to the bed and continued to change the cold compresses (made from an old rack) on my forehead as he was doing the whole night.
The next morning my 18 -19 weak body was getting better and my mind was still thinking of how come that big universe became just a measuring unit ?! and my dad’s night worries have vanished … or that’s what I thought.