They were listening. Ears pressed against the glass, as if it were opaque, like the doors they used to listen through when Kat and Patrick used to fight.
There was nobody in the room behind the window, just the green house and the plants which grew too slowly to notice, but somehow enough to garner praise once they had become large and showy. Lillian seemed to be listening with concentration and Indy, he couldn't help but feel like he had missed the point.
"What is it we're listening for, again?"
"Shh."
"But I'm-"
"Shh. I said shh. You're listening them...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. The boy standing across the street couldn't help but notice her. He thought she looked a little curious as to what he was doing just standing on the other side of the street.
He totally forgotten the reason himself. He couldn't wrench his eyes off her no matter how hard he tried.
Her dark brown hair ran down her sides like silk, ending where her waist begins. The crimson red of her gown brought out the tan of her skin, and fit just lovely on her...
there were roses of Blue Cross is everywhere everywhere I look I could see a blue cross suddenly I noticed that 1 of the Blue Cross is this a crescent moon this disturbs me a little bit because it interrupted the uniformity of the rest of the field of Blue Cross is I was all alone so I had no 1 to complain to which is why I am completing to you dear reader of my 6 minute story see that little crescent moon it looks out of place no obviously the crescent moon is there because it marks the...
It was so amazing. Posideon and Aphrodite swimming together, in the ocean. Zeus wondered why the first goddess of the earth and his brother were acting like they weren't total enemies. He jumped like a dolphin and made her laugh. She joined him in the air and they splashed around the crystal clear ocean. Zeus smiled. There was a bond forming here. Sons of either were going to be fuming. Not to mention Ares. he'd probably beat the seaweed out of poor Posideon once he found out.
He sat down at his designated desk, amongst the 45 other students in the room and used his #2 pencil to tear the the prompt book open along it's perforated edges once the clock started. The first thing he noticed was the first page of blank lined notebook paper that had been supplied, on which he was expected to write, according to whatever prompt the state board of education decided appropriate that year to judge a person's worth in two and a half hours.
He looked on the opposite page for the prompt which would decide his future. Nothing. Another...
The running wasn't the best part - but it was the part he did best. With pumping arms and striding legs, he moved gracefully around the track, passing others without a second thought or glance, as though there were mere statues standing still and in his way.
The best part was the winning. But he wasn't a very good winner. Oh, he smiled and shook hands and took his trophy or medal and posed for photos, but he was already thinking about the next race. And when fellow runners came to congratulate him, he didn't care. He was, if such...
He licked the salt crystal off her neck.
Couldn't resist.
Face-down in the sand dunes as the early morning sun rose.
The sea glittered the same harsh light as the salt gleaming off her back.
He felt sick. But there she was. Drawing him close.
Why was he here again? The surfboard bobbed on the sanddunes. Oh yes. He wanted to help here. A naked half buried body on the beach. He tried to get up.
'Miss- are you alright?'
Her laboured breathing stop. She turned around to look at him.
Gleaming eyes. Sharp teeth. Cut cheeks.
Wait gills?
She...
Marilyn's breath felt thick, like syrup in her throat and coating her tongue, she'd run so far already, and she didn't care that she could barely breathe as a result of it. The alley was empty, the pavement clattering hollowly under her soft sandals, and the sweat coating her palm loosened at the string of the balloon she held until it slipped and ascended, quickly snagging against a fire escape and popping.
Marilyn laughed, stopped running and stared up at the remainings of the balloon, the silver string winking in a dart of sunlight, the torn rubber fragments dangling from...
Martin Adams began to type. He wasn't sure what to say; a fact that the repeated DELETES and EDITS made clear. Love letters were so much simpler in the pre-computer days. You'd write what you felt, scrunch about 3/4 of the pages up and throw them next to, if not in, the bin. Then you would belabour whether to post the thing. Sometimes you would, then regret it. Sometimes you wouldn't, then regret it. Now all he had to do was click SEND. Or not. Not click SEND that is.
Martin wished he'd managed to set up that clever thing...
Cold feet. She wore pink shoes under her white gown to match the theme. Pink. Well, Blush and Bashful just like Steel Magnolias - if you asked her, she wouldn't say Pink.
Cold feet. A pink winter wedding was all she wanted; Blush and Bashful were the colors; THE colors she had to have. Muffs on the bridesmaids' hands, all in the light-colored dresses. And roses. Lots and lots and tons and tons of roses. All in pink and white.
Cold feet. She spent the last 7 years with Austin, and this winter wedding was all she ever wanted. But...