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The Metal Monument (The Eiffel Tower)

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The wind was blowing wildly through my pony tail. The rain had fallen earlier today, so the concrete was slippery. The street was full with the senseless babblers, repeating the same thing, over and over, “one euro, one euro”. I looked around suspiciously, not trusting any of them to get close to me without jabbering at me like they did to all the foreigners who did not know any better. I shook my head and laughed at their naivety.
I reached the deserted crosswalk and stopped as the light blinked rhythmically, an entrancing amber color. I looked from left to right, and then left again. As soon as I saw it was clear, I quickly crossed. There was no telling what would whip across the bridge and smash into any being wandering around.
I ended up on the other side of the vast boulevard. I checked for suspicious beings and lurkers to see if they were spying on me, then I pulled the key to the lock of my scooter. It was my only way to get around the city and away from the starers and light flashers.
One of them must have toyed with my scooter. The handle bars were twisted completely in the wrong direction. With an audible sigh, I corrected the fixable scooter and made my way under the metal monument that every being in this hole of a city came to observe, gape at, worship even. I slowly pushed my left foot against the slick ground and the wheels hesitantly started to move. There were an infinite amount of cracks in the ground. Everytime I rolled into one, I fell forward and had to get off of my scooter so it would not happen again.
Today was different than usual. There were not as many beings as there usually were at the metal monument on this grey day. But the ones that were there just stared at the intrusion of space like they were actually happy to feast their eyes upon it. I despised the thing with everything that I was made of. Through my eyes, the thing was trashing the world and transforming the beings into estranged zombies that only come here to gaze upon the monstrosity. They treated it like the Mother land, where every wish, every question, every request was responded to; like it had the power of an almighty god, when it was only made out of material that was thieved from the ground and manipulated into… this.

As I passed under the unsteady metal beams that looked like they were supporting the sky, I did not dare to gaze at it; I did not want to be like them, the ones that come hundreds of thousands of miles, that had spent most of their earnings and had wasted endless hours of their short lives to become a part of the cult that obsessed over the thing.
The rain started to pelt down again. Good, I thought as I saw the beings dash left and right to get out of the wet. The rain was like acid to them, they loathed it, but not as much as I loathed the thing. Some of the beings faced the rain, just to admire the thing for more hours of their zombie lives. And the sad part about the beings was that it could happen to anyone, children, infants, men, women, me, especially you.
Here is a hint, some advice if you want to see the monument for yourself:
Don’t.





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