Okay this is supposed to be like philosophy like aristotle or something. Just my views. I prolly shouldn't compare to aristotle because it's nothing like homers work but oh well here it is: What is life? Two cells out of billions; seemingly worthless. Yet two cells can create life. A life with thoughts, ideas, willful actions. A life that can effect other lives. Leave a mark on the world. We have the option of aborting that life though. The life that had a purpose, a purpose unknown now. Is removing the life in an act of cruelty? No. Perhaps it's fear, ignorance, carelessness, naiveté. The butterfly effect; everything has value, everything has value. If you die from an overdose, commit suicide, get in a wreck while driving under the influence, you could effect the world. Your wife will never know you. Your kids, with the gleam in their eyes, will never exist, set their eyes on the world. The friend you have, maybe having witnessed your death, or even just hearing about it, may develop a fear of death. A fear of what happened to you. If there is a hell, did you go there? A lot of unnecessary grief. So what is this? Is life just a series of random events strung together in what is called time? Or is destiny a realistic term? You live life recklessly. One day after the other. You party foolishly, experimenting with drugs, alcohol, sex. It doesn't matter you say. It's your life. Why not live life? You curse, mock, act in selfish ways. What if there was a wife for you, or maybe a best friend? Someone who will ultimately effect your life in endlessly positive ways? What if that individual is led astray by your behavior? Decides that you're someone not worth giving their time to. Because of your behavior, your attitude. It may be your life, but in the eventual outcome, why? Why give up many opportunities for lasting good in your life for short termed pleasure? I have found that people who do drugs or alcohol most often do not care if you don't do those things. But the opposite is not similar. People who don't do drugs or alcohol may be disgusted with your habits. Why not have everyone like you? Isn't that a good goal? Anyway... The point is... There is a plan for your life. I believe it's God's plan, but if you don't believe in God, view it as destiny. You have a purpose. THE END. (Sorry if it randomly skips between topics, I'm just rambling off what's on my mind. )
Joe was walking down the street. The sun was slowly diminishing, and he would soon become unnoticeable. He weaved in and out of the growing shadows, until the whole town was developed with them. He could now accomplish the task given to him: Rid the world of Rajang. His client was nameless; he chose not to reveal himself. That wasn't too uncommon. When you wanted a man dead, it wasn't too smart to let anyone know your identity, even the person you've hired to make that longing a reality. Joe didn't care. After a while in the cleaning business, you stop asking questions. It's usually better that way. He was on Rajang's street. Rajang lived in a wealthy neighborhood, which made it more difficult to eliminate him. There were many ways to carry out this feat. Joe had thought about it since his client employed him. He had eventually chose an option. All that mattered now was tonight. Joe meddled with the security system. It easily was turned off. Although living in a wealthy neighborhood, Rajang did not have a very advanced security system. This was good: it meant he did not view himself as a threat to anyone. He thought he was safe. Joe snuck into Rajang's mansion through an open window. Summer had it's advantages. People tended to leave windows open for a breeze of fresh air. He glided through the mansion silently, wary for any dangers that could prevent him from completing his job, until he saw Rajang's room. The door was open. He could see Rajang sleeping peacefully. He softly drew his handgun. This was it. A gunshot rang throughout the house. Rajang woke up quickly, shocked by the sound of gunfire. He saw a man dressed in black on the floor, covered in blood with a gun in his hand. His brother, Kalihi, was standing behind the man, possessing a gun of his own. "What happened?!" cried Rajang. Kalihi had obviously killed this man. "The damn fool tried to kill you," Kalihi told him, "I was up for a midnight drink, and saw him enter our house. I don't think he knew I was there. I followed him up to your room. Why da hell would someone want you dead?" "I'm not sure.." Rajang said quietly, "I've never seen this man in my life.." "You think he mighta been an assassin?" "Possibly. But that'd be awfully odd. The assassin gettin killed instead of doin the killing himself." "Well look at him," Kalihi said, "He's probably just barely twenty. I doubt he's that experienced." "That's true.." Rajang murmured, still horrified at the though tonight could have been his last alive. "If he was an assassin, it means there's someone still out to get you. We've got to hide you, Rajang. Get out of town, something." "No." Rajang said firmly, "This is our town. We aren't cowards. If they want me dead, they'll follow me. We've got to find out who it is and kill them ourselves." "Whatever you say, Rajang... Whatever you say." Kalihi replied disappointed. He hoped his brother's "braveness" wouldn't get him killed. They decided they would hire a private investigator. One they could rely on. They had the perfect person for the job. KlaSSiK walked cautiously to the Director. The Director didn't usually like to hear bad news, and this was indeed bad news. He opened the Director's door slowly and went in. "Director," he said plainly, "I have some news..." "What is it, KlaSSiK?" the Director replied calmly. "Well... Joe died. He failed to assassinate Rajang. I'm sorry Sir." "That is disappointing. He was given a simple task, and yet he couldn't do it. He has a family, correct?" "Yes...." Klassik replied hesitantly. "Very well. Have them killed." "Yes, Director." Klassik left the room. It always brought grief to him when the families were killed. They had done nothing. But refusing an order from the Director meant your life. Klassik could only wish he had chose a different business. He hadn't known then, he was a young man with a desire for money. Things changed.. TO BE CONTINUED.