Der (a Short Story)
Der wasn’t one of them. He pondered over plots that would be despised by the people who read them. Plots that would be deemed scum by the critics. Plots that would make him a joke among the publishing circles of the city. Plots that might raze all his chances of being read. Plots that would perhaps shackle his only prospective livelihood. He was young and rather bright- in the unconventional way of course. And he wasn’t one of them. He pledged he would write what would never be read. Except for a handful of imbeciles who feigned intelligence and considered themselves as some kind of ‘literati-whisperers’. They will of course not publish him. They would insult him and tell him to never try that again. Or if he were a little lucky, they might admonish him to never pick up a pen again in life. Even luckier would be the case if his work got banished. Life was an adventure with ink on paper. It would be a greater adventure if he got exiled. Commoners demanding liberty of speech would st