I wrote this today spontaneously and for no reason at all. It actually started out as an answer to a posted question. Anyways, just thought I'd share 
I knew a man who once spoke of a legendary fortress hidden deep within a sea of mega malls and chocolate factories where the keys to the secrets of woman kind are kept and guarded very closely.
He was a simple man. A clerk at the local video store. You would have never have guessed him to be the rough adventurous type, but that all changed when, supposedly, he found a secret map accidentally tucked into a Dirty Dancing video cassette case. Suddenly, he transformed; this timid, pizza faced boy was now a man on a mission. Without delay he left his job, packed up his ruck, and disappeared.
Nobody has seen or heard from him since, that is, except for the letter he sent me. It was stuffed into a tiny pink envelope that was tattered and creased heavily as if it had gone through hell to reach my hand. When I opened it, potporri spilled out onto the floor and the pugnant odor of expensive purfume permeated the air around me. The letter itself was frilly and peach colored, giving me a perplexing knot in the middle my stomach. Across the page were the letters frantically smeared in bold red lipstick: "H E L P".
He never returned.
Ah, it is a secret that has been kept for a thousand generations.churchgoer123 said:
I knew a man who once spoke of a legendary fortress hidden deep within a sea of mega malls and chocolate factories where the keys to the secrets of woman kind are kept and guarded very closely.
He was a simple man. A clerk at the local video store. You would have never have guessed him to be the rough adventurous type, but that all changed when, supposedly, he found a secret map accidentally tucked into a Dirty Dancing video cassette case. Suddenly, he transformed; this timid, pizza faced boy was now a man on a mission. Without delay he left his job, packed up his ruck, and disappeared.
Nobody has seen or heard from him since, that is, except for the letter he sent me. It was stuffed into a tiny pink envelope that was tattered and creased heavily as if it had gone through hell to reach my hand. When I opened it, potporri spilled out onto the floor and the pugnant odor of expensive purfume permeated the air around me. The letter itself was frilly and peach colored, giving me a perplexing knot in the middle my stomach. Across the page were the letters frantically smeared in bold red lipstick: "H E L P".
He never returned.
