Simplicity is beauty sometimes. Read the previous poster's 500 word super short. Reply/Continue/Save/Destroy with own 500 words. Ahh Simple.
Five Hundred. He looked at the readout again and quite clearly, for all to see, was displayed the digits five, zero, zero. At what point in any human’s life had such numbers held such significance? He could only wonder at the future lore of this particular day when the Blessed number came into existence to reveal all others to be false and from the devil spawned. Five Hun Dred Fivehundred 500 You can say it quickly and it still sounds significant. F-eye-ve Hunnnn red Five Hundred. What? Hello? Ninety 5 have you ever even looked at 95? Well there it was for all to see, good ol 95. How many into 500. At any which rate it was formidable in size, 500. It was 500 prayers on the mat every morning, was it not? For this one particular number existed throughout everything good and heroic. 500 Soldiers left on the bloody battlefield. 500 Death poems written by young Japanese lords bound between honesty and honor. 500 legions march across the land. 500 seconds before we come back from a commercial break. If he had to make a choice ‘5’ would be his favourite of the three. Just a more stylish number, he often proclaimed. The Zeros will always be there for stability but I quite like the way the ‘5’ makes the whole thing so much more tangible. ... At which point on discerning reader will point out that this is entirely crazy and cannot be followed one little bit! Well fear not any ol’ who in Whoville. My philosophy is to just let what ever comes out out and see what happens from there. Take the 500 thing and run with it or completely swoop in and fly the scene off into a completely different place. Who cares, right? ... So he picked his dusty overall up from beside his prayer mat and lifted his face fully to the light streaming through the window. Another day, he initially thought. Off to the grime to slave for 16 hours and then here back to the pit. He looked about him and even in recollection he would admit to being stupified that anything had actually worked before 500. The need for 500 was so clear to him through his perspective of our reality. “It just all looks impossible to me,” he remarked. “Well what is all so different, my friend, please do tell me,” I urged. And at that he just seemed to let his gaze fall on the horizon, which was actually pretty high in his line of sight, considering we were in a pit. “It’s too much,” he mumbled. He cast out his hand and a mixture of suddenly alive and moving figments of light and clover leaves drifted towards me. There was a scream down the road but it didn’t seem to affect us; as we were nestled safely into the holes our atomically obsessed parents had dug for us, there were no problems at all.
