so for some reason i started writing this story that's all about a lighter. except i started this story somewhere between the beginning and the middle, and i could easily see myself turning this into a proper short story but i need to know whether this is shite or what before i even try. i now place my trust in the words patrons, don't bullshit me! 
and thanks for your consideration
(p.s. it's not long)
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I was walking beneath the underpass one dark night. It had begun to drizzle, and I drew out a cigarette for companionship. The lighter, however, I could not find. I stopped, wondering to myself: “where could I have lost my treasured lighter?” There were no holes in my pockets. I looked around as well as I could in the dark, but I was strongly compelled by a strange new voice of urgency not to loiter contemplating the valuable lighter, but to push on instead. So I obeyed the voice. I felt a sense of familiarity beneath this odd, unknown underpass. I felt like I knew it well enough that I could have been its’ very architect. My feet passed over dirt and pavement; broken stones and uncut crystals of shattered glass. A dark fog began to close around me, and then, in a fleeting moment I had realized that I misplaced my trust and was to suffer the machinations of the mystery fog as a consequence.
I was engulfed suddenly. The dark fog whispered a roar as it rushed around me. I closed my eyes shut and thought: “the lighter; I should have gone after the lighter!” the fog swept over me stronger and stronger, and had taken on a malevolent nature. It pushed me back when I tried to step forward. In desperation, I gave my body to impulse and prayed that the logic to which I gave my mind would churn out a solution before the body did something daft. I considered that if perhaps I could create myself a clear mental image of the lighter, the darkness would understand or at the least fear it.
So I forced it into my sight! The finest lighter ever owned by the pioneers of the final colonization; glowing metal of the sturdiest titanium alloy, silken crimson grips and a unique burner that could produce a light as intense as the sun. How I ever came to owning it, I never knew. The fog ceased to gust. My imagery, it appeared, had worked. Deep in the darkness that still enveloped me, I spotted a small white light through the shadows. I approached cautiously, fearing no doubt the possible existence of twelve-foot tall anglerfish. When I finally got to the light, I saw that it was but a naked bulb.
The unnatural dark suddenly swept away like dust in the wind, and all was bared. Like some ethereal guide, the fog had led me to a destination unknown and I was to follow its chosen course. I stared up at the building to which this new light belonged. It looked like a temple of some sort, but small and inviting. The lights were on within, so I knocked on the door and waited for a response.
The strong, cedar doors were swung open with such enthusiasm that I was almost sucked across the threshold from the force of vacuum. A large, jovial looking fellow welcomed me like I was expected. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I was certainly expected. The jovial one, for he had been grinning far too much to actually introduce himself by name, took my jacket and led me through a modestly spacious hall with pews on either side. At the end of the hall we passed through some doors and headed down to what I presumed would be the crypt.
When we finally reached the cavern, however, I knew that I would have much rather preferred a crypt to the situation that confronted me instead.
and thanks for your consideration
(p.s. it's not long)
---------------------------------------------------------------
I was walking beneath the underpass one dark night. It had begun to drizzle, and I drew out a cigarette for companionship. The lighter, however, I could not find. I stopped, wondering to myself: “where could I have lost my treasured lighter?” There were no holes in my pockets. I looked around as well as I could in the dark, but I was strongly compelled by a strange new voice of urgency not to loiter contemplating the valuable lighter, but to push on instead. So I obeyed the voice. I felt a sense of familiarity beneath this odd, unknown underpass. I felt like I knew it well enough that I could have been its’ very architect. My feet passed over dirt and pavement; broken stones and uncut crystals of shattered glass. A dark fog began to close around me, and then, in a fleeting moment I had realized that I misplaced my trust and was to suffer the machinations of the mystery fog as a consequence.
I was engulfed suddenly. The dark fog whispered a roar as it rushed around me. I closed my eyes shut and thought: “the lighter; I should have gone after the lighter!” the fog swept over me stronger and stronger, and had taken on a malevolent nature. It pushed me back when I tried to step forward. In desperation, I gave my body to impulse and prayed that the logic to which I gave my mind would churn out a solution before the body did something daft. I considered that if perhaps I could create myself a clear mental image of the lighter, the darkness would understand or at the least fear it.
So I forced it into my sight! The finest lighter ever owned by the pioneers of the final colonization; glowing metal of the sturdiest titanium alloy, silken crimson grips and a unique burner that could produce a light as intense as the sun. How I ever came to owning it, I never knew. The fog ceased to gust. My imagery, it appeared, had worked. Deep in the darkness that still enveloped me, I spotted a small white light through the shadows. I approached cautiously, fearing no doubt the possible existence of twelve-foot tall anglerfish. When I finally got to the light, I saw that it was but a naked bulb.
The unnatural dark suddenly swept away like dust in the wind, and all was bared. Like some ethereal guide, the fog had led me to a destination unknown and I was to follow its chosen course. I stared up at the building to which this new light belonged. It looked like a temple of some sort, but small and inviting. The lights were on within, so I knocked on the door and waited for a response.
The strong, cedar doors were swung open with such enthusiasm that I was almost sucked across the threshold from the force of vacuum. A large, jovial looking fellow welcomed me like I was expected. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I was certainly expected. The jovial one, for he had been grinning far too much to actually introduce himself by name, took my jacket and led me through a modestly spacious hall with pews on either side. At the end of the hall we passed through some doors and headed down to what I presumed would be the crypt.
When we finally reached the cavern, however, I knew that I would have much rather preferred a crypt to the situation that confronted me instead.
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