I had planned the perfect picnic. Nothing could ruin this day. Or so I thought.
It all started innocently enough, chasing a mosquito through my house. The tiny beast buzzed past my ear, mocking me with its delicate wings. As I lunged to swat it, my arm collided with the antique clock on the mantle, sending it crashing to the floor. Tick, tick, tock. Time seemed to slip away with every shattered piece.
Next, the mosquito led me into the kitchen. I swung wildly, and in the chaos, my picnic spread flew off the counter. Sandwiches, fruit, and pastries landed in a heap. A stray roll of aluminum foil unfurled, shimmering like a silver snake across the tile.
Undeterred, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard to catch the elusive insect. A gust of wind from the open window sent a newspaper flying, smacking me squarely in the face. The headline blurred with the pain in my eyes: "Doomsday Traffic Jam: A Sign of the Times?"
As I stumbled, kitchen knives, precariously balanced on the edge of the counter, toppled toward me. I dodged just in time, but a shard from the glass I'd knocked over sliced my hand. Blood, bright and surreal, dripped onto the remnants of my ruined picnic.
The mosquito, it seemed, was gone. Or maybe it had never been there at all.
Desperate to salvage my day, I packed the remains of my picnic into a basket and grabbed my bug spray. I settled into the car, ready to escape to the park. But the road ahead was a nightmare of bumper-to-bumper traffic. A mild rain began to fall, adding to the melancholy of the scene.
As I idled, I noticed this was no usual traffic jam. People were stuck living their lives in the gridlock. Some slept in their cars, others watchedTV or ate meals. A family next to me had set up a makeshift kitchen, complete with a frying pan sizzling on a portable stove. One man in a nearby truck wielded a fishing rod out his window, hoping to catch something - anything - to pass the time.
My eyes widened as I saw several drivers holding butcher knives, slicing red velvet cake. They seemed oddly cheerful, offering me napkins through their windows. Lingering questions in my mind - why? Despite that, I took one, bewildered by a message in it: "Do not look in their eyes?" It was written with cream, what creativity! Later I found a cake in the shape of a napkin.
Amid the chaos, I spotted a man in a sandwich costume selling sandwiches from the back of his van. "Get your sandwiches here!" he shouted, his voice cheerful yet eerie. A forest shortcut loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but no one ventured that way. Why?
A man in a sunscreen costume stood nearby, warning against using sunscreen. "It's all a scam!" he yelled, waving his arms. The day grew darker, and the mild rain turned into a steady drizzle. I decided to leave my car, the traffic having turned into a surreal street fair.
I walked toward what seemed to be the middle of the chaos, my basket in hand. Picnic blanket under my arm, I stumbled upon a group of people dancing in the rain, their laughter echoing through the gridlock. It was then that I realized - this was my picnic.
I laid out my blanket and sat, the rain washing away the earlier horrors. The man in the sandwich costume offered me a sandwich, and I accepted, feeling oddly at peace. Around me, the traffic jam had become a community, a bizarre yet comforting gathering.
As Ibit into my sandwich, I spotted the mosquito, perched on the edge of my picnic basket. I laughed, realizing it had led me to this strange, wonderful moment. In the end, Blue Sunday wasn't about the perfect picnic but finding serenity in the unexpected chaos.
I looked around at the people, the makeshift lives in the gridlock, and the odd normalcy amidst the bizarre. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be all along? A picnic in the heart of a traffic jam, where every moment was awaiting?
The realization hit me slowly as I found night came along while I slept outside.
I glanced at my empty picnic basket, but some blueberries were left. "Oh, it's not good," I felt weird as I peeked around to find who probed with my stuff while I was sleeping.
As I began to fold my blanket, I saw seeds shattering everywhere underneath. As I took one seed to examine, in the moonlight, it reflected, felt dry, squeezed. "Pomegranate seeds?" I felt a bit weird, spine-chilling, cold air. "Why is the weather always so unpredictable? Well, if those industrial bigots ever listen..." I muttered while walking just a few steps away from my car.
It was so calm and cool, I felt too comfy around here as the fragrance of flowers that much resembled gravelly gladiolus grew everywhere in this particular area.
I just heard cricket's noise as I ducked into my car as it unlocked, feeling my hand's impression. I closed my windows, my presence lit the car lights, while from the dashboard I saw only my car lit. "Where did they all go? How can they sleep in a car?" My eyes examined acutely; I saw cars, trucks, or buses, even three bicycles yet no person.
Then I heard a WHACK! noise. Before I could find itssource, I saw a silhouette. I came out from my car and saw a person in a black hoodie riding a skateboard, jumping from car to car, and gone before I could shout.
Just as I was about to check if it made a dent on my car rooftop, I saw a gang of skateboarders in black hoodies trying to run over me. Before I could shout, they shouted their own serious commentary in mid-air:
"Those dogmatic tycoons now face our justice!"
"You're right, Bend! Those yellow journalists now only write, dream about truthfulness! Hahaha. And you know what - "
"What, Nerve? Wait a sec, stop before you again, *sigh* gossiping about ongoing riots, chauvinist?" The person cut him in mid-air with words, not blades - - "H-Hey - hey! at least listen....for a bit, you know the leader, The Hub, does not let us talk about others, at least we can't those smear campaigns - " The voices grew faint and indistinct as they disappeared while others donned silently and acted as wiremen.
As I ducked, trying to safeguard my precious head from getting bald, "Is 'The 24 Spokes' again anarchy against new policies? Why do they always randomly appear at any time? Those jobless, freewill, hedonistic same as - " I was again interrupted by a WHACK! noise.
This time, I didn't look for its source and got in my car, locking it.
As I tried to sleep in my car, making the backseat comfortable, the noise from outside continued. BANG! BANNNG!
As I was curtaining my windows, I still couldn't hear the sound as the glass was shut. Crash! Bang! The noise continued to increase, unknowingly to me what it might be.
As I curtained the windows near the driving seat, I felt suffocated. So, I half-opened the window and only heard aTHUD!
My eyebrows arched. "Oh, shook! What made that green tree crash down?"
I felt vigilant, thoughts railing on my pedantic station.
Still, no one was there, no one woke up from their vehicles. "So it means, literally there is no other person than me?"
I still didn't want to go out, but thoughts wouldn't let me sleep. "Well, one way or another, I have to go outside. Well, it's not like anyone is waiting for me, and I don't think bears exist anymore after the Great Ozone Dying."
I opened my car door slowly, stepped down, and walked on tiptoe.
As I ran out of a certain range, my car blinked twice with a familiar noise, locking itself. I didn't think much while inspecting the fallen tree with my smartphone flashlight. But that flash from the car before, in mid-dark hours, awakened something silent for centuries.
As not many birds now exist, there were no bats, but - "That's a poor baby bat? It lost its grip under this tree." As I continued examining the tree, I saw a bloodstain on the tree bark. "Maybe that's the bat's blood? It's too much blood near the cracked bark. Well, it seems a human did it, but there's no axe mark or any kind of weapon impression. Is it because I'm not a detective that I can't find anything useful?" I murmured. Then I found a broken flyswatter from the fallen tree. As I picked it up, I noticed a trail of crimson red blood leading toward a -
"What! A goat?" Before I could examine it, a man came from behind, startling me. I felt he was about to hit me in the head. Shockingly, that man ran past me, shouting - "Chupacaaaaaabra!"
I muttered, "Chupacabra?" in a perplexed tone. A flash of light blinded my eyes, whilemy nose again picked up the gravelly aroma.
It all started innocently enough, chasing a mosquito through my house. The tiny beast buzzed past my ear, mocking me with its delicate wings. As I lunged to swat it, my arm collided with the antique clock on the mantle, sending it crashing to the floor. Tick, tick, tock. Time seemed to slip away with every shattered piece.
Next, the mosquito led me into the kitchen. I swung wildly, and in the chaos, my picnic spread flew off the counter. Sandwiches, fruit, and pastries landed in a heap. A stray roll of aluminum foil unfurled, shimmering like a silver snake across the tile.
Undeterred, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard to catch the elusive insect. A gust of wind from the open window sent a newspaper flying, smacking me squarely in the face. The headline blurred with the pain in my eyes: "Doomsday Traffic Jam: A Sign of the Times?"
As I stumbled, kitchen knives, precariously balanced on the edge of the counter, toppled toward me. I dodged just in time, but a shard from the glass I'd knocked over sliced my hand. Blood, bright and surreal, dripped onto the remnants of my ruined picnic.
The mosquito, it seemed, was gone. Or maybe it had never been there at all.
Desperate to salvage my day, I packed the remains of my picnic into a basket and grabbed my bug spray. I settled into the car, ready to escape to the park. But the road ahead was a nightmare of bumper-to-bumper traffic. A mild rain began to fall, adding to the melancholy of the scene.
As I idled, I noticed this was no usual traffic jam. People were stuck living their lives in the gridlock. Some slept in their cars, others watchedTV or ate meals. A family next to me had set up a makeshift kitchen, complete with a frying pan sizzling on a portable stove. One man in a nearby truck wielded a fishing rod out his window, hoping to catch something - anything - to pass the time.
My eyes widened as I saw several drivers holding butcher knives, slicing red velvet cake. They seemed oddly cheerful, offering me napkins through their windows. Lingering questions in my mind - why? Despite that, I took one, bewildered by a message in it: "Do not look in their eyes?" It was written with cream, what creativity! Later I found a cake in the shape of a napkin.
Amid the chaos, I spotted a man in a sandwich costume selling sandwiches from the back of his van. "Get your sandwiches here!" he shouted, his voice cheerful yet eerie. A forest shortcut loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but no one ventured that way. Why?
A man in a sunscreen costume stood nearby, warning against using sunscreen. "It's all a scam!" he yelled, waving his arms. The day grew darker, and the mild rain turned into a steady drizzle. I decided to leave my car, the traffic having turned into a surreal street fair.
I walked toward what seemed to be the middle of the chaos, my basket in hand. Picnic blanket under my arm, I stumbled upon a group of people dancing in the rain, their laughter echoing through the gridlock. It was then that I realized - this was my picnic.
I laid out my blanket and sat, the rain washing away the earlier horrors. The man in the sandwich costume offered me a sandwich, and I accepted, feeling oddly at peace. Around me, the traffic jam had become a community, a bizarre yet comforting gathering.
As Ibit into my sandwich, I spotted the mosquito, perched on the edge of my picnic basket. I laughed, realizing it had led me to this strange, wonderful moment. In the end, Blue Sunday wasn't about the perfect picnic but finding serenity in the unexpected chaos.
I looked around at the people, the makeshift lives in the gridlock, and the odd normalcy amidst the bizarre. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be all along? A picnic in the heart of a traffic jam, where every moment was awaiting?
The realization hit me slowly as I found night came along while I slept outside.
I glanced at my empty picnic basket, but some blueberries were left. "Oh, it's not good," I felt weird as I peeked around to find who probed with my stuff while I was sleeping.
As I began to fold my blanket, I saw seeds shattering everywhere underneath. As I took one seed to examine, in the moonlight, it reflected, felt dry, squeezed. "Pomegranate seeds?" I felt a bit weird, spine-chilling, cold air. "Why is the weather always so unpredictable? Well, if those industrial bigots ever listen..." I muttered while walking just a few steps away from my car.
It was so calm and cool, I felt too comfy around here as the fragrance of flowers that much resembled gravelly gladiolus grew everywhere in this particular area.
I just heard cricket's noise as I ducked into my car as it unlocked, feeling my hand's impression. I closed my windows, my presence lit the car lights, while from the dashboard I saw only my car lit. "Where did they all go? How can they sleep in a car?" My eyes examined acutely; I saw cars, trucks, or buses, even three bicycles yet no person.
Then I heard a WHACK! noise. Before I could find itssource, I saw a silhouette. I came out from my car and saw a person in a black hoodie riding a skateboard, jumping from car to car, and gone before I could shout.
Just as I was about to check if it made a dent on my car rooftop, I saw a gang of skateboarders in black hoodies trying to run over me. Before I could shout, they shouted their own serious commentary in mid-air:
"Those dogmatic tycoons now face our justice!"
"You're right, Bend! Those yellow journalists now only write, dream about truthfulness! Hahaha. And you know what - "
"What, Nerve? Wait a sec, stop before you again, *sigh* gossiping about ongoing riots, chauvinist?" The person cut him in mid-air with words, not blades - - "H-Hey - hey! at least listen....for a bit, you know the leader, The Hub, does not let us talk about others, at least we can't those smear campaigns - " The voices grew faint and indistinct as they disappeared while others donned silently and acted as wiremen.
As I ducked, trying to safeguard my precious head from getting bald, "Is 'The 24 Spokes' again anarchy against new policies? Why do they always randomly appear at any time? Those jobless, freewill, hedonistic same as - " I was again interrupted by a WHACK! noise.
This time, I didn't look for its source and got in my car, locking it.
As I tried to sleep in my car, making the backseat comfortable, the noise from outside continued. BANG! BANNNG!
As I was curtaining my windows, I still couldn't hear the sound as the glass was shut. Crash! Bang! The noise continued to increase, unknowingly to me what it might be.
As I curtained the windows near the driving seat, I felt suffocated. So, I half-opened the window and only heard aTHUD!
My eyebrows arched. "Oh, shook! What made that green tree crash down?"
I felt vigilant, thoughts railing on my pedantic station.
Still, no one was there, no one woke up from their vehicles. "So it means, literally there is no other person than me?"
I still didn't want to go out, but thoughts wouldn't let me sleep. "Well, one way or another, I have to go outside. Well, it's not like anyone is waiting for me, and I don't think bears exist anymore after the Great Ozone Dying."
I opened my car door slowly, stepped down, and walked on tiptoe.
As I ran out of a certain range, my car blinked twice with a familiar noise, locking itself. I didn't think much while inspecting the fallen tree with my smartphone flashlight. But that flash from the car before, in mid-dark hours, awakened something silent for centuries.
As not many birds now exist, there were no bats, but - "That's a poor baby bat? It lost its grip under this tree." As I continued examining the tree, I saw a bloodstain on the tree bark. "Maybe that's the bat's blood? It's too much blood near the cracked bark. Well, it seems a human did it, but there's no axe mark or any kind of weapon impression. Is it because I'm not a detective that I can't find anything useful?" I murmured. Then I found a broken flyswatter from the fallen tree. As I picked it up, I noticed a trail of crimson red blood leading toward a -
"What! A goat?" Before I could examine it, a man came from behind, startling me. I felt he was about to hit me in the head. Shockingly, that man ran past me, shouting - "Chupacaaaaaabra!"
I muttered, "Chupacabra?" in a perplexed tone. A flash of light blinded my eyes, whilemy nose again picked up the gravelly aroma.
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