Break.
The monotonous form of most literary components within modern day composition bores me to tears. I simply cannot bear it any longer. I’ve sat up on many a night reading through countless novels, thousands of pages, thousands upon thousands of meaningless, fruitless words. I’m simply tired of the lack of ingenuity. Where has it gone? Writing must be… explosive, ground-breaking. It must set precedents, it must enlighten its readers!
Well since I’ve had no luck reading such literary endeavors, maybe I can find satisfaction through the simple act of taking a pen to parchment.
I will try my very best. Maybe it will unclutter my thoughts.
It was the eve of the most important night in England’s history… its obliteration. I was sitting alone in my flat, 221B Baker, scouring over the multitudinous papers and newspaper articles which seemed relevant to the situation at hand… a rogue weapons engineer, and from what I could deduce, the very best in his field…