somewhere at the edge of the world there was a city of steel and glass that was forgotten by the sun. for many years the sun tried to reach it but the buildings grew so tall so fast that whenever the sun got close they would poke out his eyes.
the city grew large and cold and lifeless except for the continuous building and breeding of the unhappy people below and before long the sun was just a memory, a story told to children at bedtime.

slowly the people became accustomed to the eternal night, the children went to school and the adults would go to work, but still they would not know when to sleep if it weren't for a giant clock in the center of the city.

one night after the big clock rang an old man sat at his grandson's bed told him a story as old people liked to do in those days. he spoke of the sun, the city, and the big clock and when he has finished his grandson asked him if anyone had seen ever seen the sun. the old man said, "no, its just a story," but after seeing the child sink into bed obviously disappointed he said, "actually, i've heard that there are people that live at the very top of the skyscrapers that sometimes catch a glimpse of the sun still trying to break through." this did not cheer up his grandson as he had intended, instead the boy became angry, "why should they be the only ones to have light" he thought.

many years passed and now the boy was thirty. he had a steady job working at a factory that makes the steel beams used to build skyscrapers but even as an adult he could not stop thinking about the stories he'd heard as a child. after twelve year of working at the factory he was tired of being a slave to the clock, so one night after work he made his way silently into the clock tower and threw a wrench into the gears. the clock creaked and whirred and then its hands stopped moving. at first, no one noticed, the children went to school and the adults went to work but when time came for the alarm at the end of the day everyone just kept working. they became irritable and short tempered and soon there was a riot.
when the riot was over most were dead and all was quiet but for those who survived the sun rose for the first time.

Courtlandt Northcross

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Comment by Clifford Black on June 7, 2010 at 11:44pm
Namaska La,

How are u coming with the alphabet.
Comment by Emenike La on June 7, 2010 at 9:37pm
Mr. Black, I hear you and I am all for it. I am a learning the lesson to keep my mouth shut unless the pearls on my tongue can be honoured as pearls. To that end, I am co-creating a context for expressing this and very similar thoughts called Ancestralization.
Comment by Clifford Black on June 7, 2010 at 4:16pm
Brother La,You said that the clock tower story was cold, very cold. This may be the right time for you to tell us the story (in your words-in other words).
Comment by Clifford Black on June 7, 2010 at 4:11pm
Now we are thinking!!!!
Comment by Aaron (Al) Lewis on April 19, 2010 at 12:47pm
La, I think so too.
Comment by Emenike La on April 18, 2010 at 11:15pm
That's cold, real cold. I would like to tell this story at the right time and to the right people.

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