Will Krupinsky
Bio
Filmmaker, photographer, artist.
Stories (2/0)
An Ordinary Life
It’s been 111 days since I was shut in this room with that box. A box wrapped in plain brown paper that doesn’t open, doesn’t smell, never makes a sound and never moves. As inanimate an object as can be. But the strangest thing of all is that I can’t move it. Every time I try to lift it, open it or scoot it over, it stays exactly as it is. Smack dab in the middle of this small, bland room. A bed, a desk, a chair and that box. All gloriously illuminated by the light bulb hanging from the ceiling, bouncing off the white walls. Every night, as I suppose it is when this happens, the light turns off. I guess it’s my bedtime to whoever has imprisoned me in this room. After a couple months, my body adjusted and I now find myself tired after the light goes off. The light always comes on eight hours later. Then a metal plate is slid in through a hole in the door. My breakfast and lunch. Always a hot breakfast and a cold lunch. Eggs and toast followed by a sandwich of some sort. Then another eight hours later, I get my dinner. Meat, potatoes and string beans.
By Will Krupinsky3 years ago in Fiction
Mandatory Donation
“Donate today so that we may ALL thrive!” The sign that hangs, or more so, looms over the city. Constantly flashing. Making sure we know it’s there. The old, decrepit faces of our government, if that’s what you can call it now, smiling down upon us.
By Will Krupinsky3 years ago in Fiction