Sunday, December 15, 2013

Wicked Propaganda Stories of Past that made no sense at all.

Its scary to sleep alone in the hall-room with moonlight beaming out of your window panes. Red Moon.

You are not scared of ghosts or phantasms, those are for rowdy disobedient children, good boys sleep well. Good boys listen to what papa says. You are a good boy. You get a badge.

You hear the bickering sound of the crimson ceiling fan, something so brazen that it scares you too and your brave good dog -scarlett bitch 293 decides to whimper aloud like a hurt wolf, and then vanish in the darkness of the room. The night is starry and the moon is a sickle. The sky of a good state.
You are all alone now.
The night reddens. The usual.

You recall the state favorite horror story they taught you in school. Something so ghastly that it should always be brought to mind. Why do you want to forget it ,say it loud good boy,

'A spectre is haunting Europe. A spectre of commu....'

So in the Red State everyone sang the lullaby of dreamers.
And there was horror.
The horror.

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