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Friday, July 28, 2006 | 2:48 PM
Would You Read My Story? Once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a boy named Phil. He was a poor boy who lived alone on the top of the hill. As for his food, he would scavenge around to find just enough for him to eat. One day, Phil wrote a story. It wasn't the best story in the world, but Phil was proud of his work. He decided to go to the town at the bottom of the hill and show the townsfolk what he had written. So he packed his things; whatever he had, and began his journey to the town. He walked and walked, and walked some more, until he could see the town. Phil's heart began to race. At that point, Phil started to run. He ran as fast as his legs could go. Being too excited, Phil tripped over a stone and began to tumble down the hill. He tumbled and tumbled until he could tumble no more. He laid in the dirt for quite some time and stared into the sky. He couldn't feel his toes, not his feet, nor his thighs. Phil continued to stare into the sky. He stared and stared until his eyes went dry. Then, he made up his mind. He rolled over onto his stomach and used whatever strength in his arms to pull himself forward. After a few hours, Phil began to feel tired. He didn't know how long he had been dragging himself, but he knew he could no more. So he laid in the dirt and fell asleep. When Phil woke up, he found himself in a strange white room. He saw strange machines and tubes running into his arm. He yelled for help and in came a lady in white. She talked to Phil in a sweet tone and with a sweet smile and managed to calm him. When she left, Phil's legs began to itch. He lifted the blanket to scratch, but to his horror, his legs weren't there anymore. He stared at the empty bed in shock. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Instead, he began to cry. He cried and cried beyond condolence. After some time, a few weeks perhaps, Phil was released from the hospital. He rode on a wheelchair and was given supplies from the hospital. Now, everyday at the corner of the street, you can see phil, writing his stories, and everytime someone passes my, Phil would plead, "Would you read my story?" Story written by: Erin Gotangco
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