http://slow.writerscafe.org/BoyInTheWorld The original writings of author A Boy In The World en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776076523 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The little man sat in the corner by the window in an old, worn, wooden chair. A blanket on his lap, and his pipe smoking in his hand.He sat, and he smoked, and he listened to music.Day after day, until it soon became years,he would sit and tap his foot in rhythm to the musicthat played such sad.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BoyInTheWorld/1198106/ It was a day like any other, the day that I found her.I had escaped the city as I often do, and gone out into the country to get away from the sounds of the traffic and the suffocation of the pavement and the buildings that bear down upon me.  I love to walk the fields and listen to the wind bl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BoyInTheWorld/1194598/ The impatience of hisfootsteps echoed on the empty streets, with no destination in mind hebled the pavement with the furry of his step. He was alone, had beenso for quite some time now, all that he had were the memories of whathad been, the sweetness of the past that he took for granted... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BoyInTheWorld/1191920/ The branches clawed at him as he scrambled through the brush, sweat streaked his face and soaked through his clothing. He dared not stop, he had to keep moving -- stumbling over roots and the dead undergrowth, he pushed himself forward.How did things get so desperate, how did he allow such a vast di.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BoyInTheWorld/1155276/ They dragged him through the dry cracked dirt of the street, the flesh around his ankles, where the rope was tied, bled from open and torn sores. The man was naked, caked with filth and grime, deep purple bruises from where they had beaten him were scattered across his swollen, bloody, body.People w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BoyInTheWorld/1155271/ The little girl sits in the corner of her room and cries.She sits there late in the evening and weeps as the darkness of the night curls all around her. Nobody knows, and to her it feels like nobody cares. It has been like this for some time. The joy that she once knew, as only a child can ever know.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BoyInTheWorld/1155260/