/lit/ - Literature

>Imagine you are walking along your typical route to school and on the way you suddenly find the scene changed and yourself telescopic; before you now are millions of small pools with millions of drowning children in them. Other people walk by and see what you see, all equally perplexed. You observe how the most agent among them wade into the muck and commendably save a child, but you also note that while they do so -- other children stray into other pools. Bewildered you remain transfixed and shortly you realize that many of these children were saved many times before, yet they defiantly return and return and plant themselves face first in these puddles. There aren't enough samaritans good or otherwise to save them. You realize the situation is beyond you and run, half intending to escape and half with hope to find help. As you progress past this seemingly interminable and bizarre landscape ever dotted with drowning destitutes you notice something else. In the distance, on the very periphery of this demented scene there is something even more perverse, some compromise between a dust cloud and a horizon, a vastness of swarthy peoples arraigned like an assembly line in the stages of life, they are engaged in the process of producing more and more children, seemingly with the sole intent of thrusting them towards the mire betwixt you and they, a soil stained Hieronymus Bosch painting made manifest. You run for what feels like days to warn them of the horror they are party to but upon finally arriving at their debauched shore you recognize the dejected faces of some of your peers. They arrived well before you on the same mission and have been deliberating among another, regrettably they inform you that it would be fundamentally wrong to limit the doings of these folk and that even thinking to suggest such to them is a gross undermining of human decency likable to the barbarous customs of our ignorant predecessors and a proof of how far we have yet to go as a society. Panic seizes you. Your farsighted fellows inform you all is not lost however, that the tribe is not without leadership and for the low cost of 5$ a month exoneration and even sentiments of savior are a possible, as this is more than enough for Okonkwo and his ilk to be able pull out children and raise them on this side of the pools fulltime until they are of reproductive age. Relieved you hand your wallet to the first fornicating coolie you see and return arm in arm with your classmates against the glow of the sun, hoping this surreal episode has not made you late for your midday lecture.
I wrote this once, response to Peter Singer's retarded drowning child thought experiment.

>>14370785
Flecks of potential but it's too unfocused, you get a sense of the person but nothing about where they are, what they're doing, or concretely what they're talking or reacting about. It's a monologue in space, at least it seems that way without context.

>>13032200
>God is dead and we killed him
Lies from the mouth of the devil himself.

Only plebs don't believe in God.

>>12999922
Naw.

Just read this.
http://www.lulu.com/shop/raindrop-freefall/storm-maze/paperback/product-24056329.html