I was riding a ramp in a room right up to the ceiling, on a unicycle with an immensely tall man I took to be Robert Wadlow (or his ghost because God knows he's been dead a long time) standing beside the ramp, taller than it; and down below, some irate radio host of a SAVAGE nature who changed his name from what you put on a weenie bun is making bad talk about my brand of transport. And the ceiling is white.
I can't peddle to the top of the ramp. It goes right up. And Robert is stooping over, and ALL WAS.
Is this a day at The Circus with Chaplin time travelers just around the corner, talking into their hands?
About the Creator
Tom Baker
Author of Haunted Indianapolis, Indiana Ghost Folklore, Midwest Maniacs, Midwest UFOs and Beyond, Scary Urban Legends, 50 Famous Fables and Folk Tales, and Notorious Crimes of the Upper Midwest.: http://tombakerbooks.weebly.com
Doing it for the troops
The others dropped like flies around me. We fought and struggled to get to this point. I'm the only one left now. The objective is right there. A mere two hundred feet away. The last of my team got a bullet to the head right next to me, but I couldn't do anything. I was able to locate and neutralise the sniper as he shot my friend, so his death was at least not in vain.
By Mohammed Darasi7 days ago in Fiction
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