She was the most delicate girl in town. A town that thrived on beauty. It was everything, and so was she. When I first met her, we were on a field trip in 6th grade. Back then, she wasn't even wearing make up yet. A completely different person. So, of course I was nervous when I woke up next to her.
"What are you thinking?", she asked me. I didn't know what to say. All I felt was shame. "Didn't you like it?" "I did."I lied. "So, what's the problem? I know you wanted me since high school." "Yeah, but...
There were three daughters of the Feng family, and when the father lost his business and the mother lost her mind, the three daughters were left to serve others on their own china, long ago sold for half its value to a family of gloating pretenders.
The first daughter married a nice young man from across the way, not a family of any importance but he was a hard worker and that was enough. The second daughter died young, and since no one cared to remember her family, much less her, her life was brief and short and unremarkable.
The...
She stood waiting by the binoculars. How sappily romantic was that? She shook her head at her own ridiculousness.
To distract herself, she gazed out across the city. The beautiful city she called home.
From here, everything was so clear and straight. The roads looked easy to navigate, like one could never get lost.
She had moved to this city four years ago. Following a dream, a memory. Some how she had stumbled upon him. And he was, real.
He was also no where to be seen.
She looked down at her wrist for the watch she didn't wear anymore,...
Upon my soft upholstered chair
I sat and spoke into the air
For they were listening, you see
The ones who come and sit with me
I cannot see them, though I try
Their form is but a wistful sigh
More solemn than a flow'ring tree
The ones who come and sit with me
I have no proof that they exist
But still my thoughts of them persist
A secret kept? A fantasy?
The ones who come and sit with me
My audience in silence waits
As softly I pass though their gates
"I really do hate these balloons," she said as she lay on the ground, trying to decide whether she should use the pink and purple as a theme for her rooftop party later that evening. She hadn't even wanted to throw a party in the first place. Her friends came up with the idea, and like always, Kiersten was pressured into organizing it all. She got up and walked around the roof, carefully checking the tables she had set up earlier. She had a knack for organizing and making things look nice. And although she was great at it, she...
I remember my Nans pension book. The smell of the paper and the ink. I would hold it to my nose as I walked to the post office. Nan would pre-sign it and Mary, the post mistress, would happily cash it.
Then, at the main counter, I'd purchase Nans usual forty Number Six Tipped and fizzy cola bottles for me. It didn't matter that I was only eleven. In our little village everyone knew everyone.
Eventually the pension books were replaced with the new banking system, something my Nan never quite got the hang of. My trips to the little...
That movie was so straight forward, The doctor was the hero and everything just fell into line.
I know
I like a little twist I mean it's just not entertaining otherwise
Yep
Look you want to stop off somewhere for a drink or..
Or?
She shoved her hands in the pocket of her hoodie and turned toward the alley.
It's been years she thought, probably best to leave all that in the past. Still a twist, something exciting. She moved further into the dark cramped space between the buildings.Not looking back, knowing he would follow.
The Moon would never be the same again. Not after the things I saw, the things I knew that were hiding there. I could never again look up at night without a shudder, without averting my eyes from the horror of it.
The Moon's sickly light, reflected sunlight turned mocking and wrong, crept in through my shuttered windows. I had taken to taping them up, afraid to go out at night, afraid of what might be there.
They walked down on moonbeams, those horrible things with too many angles, walked down and fed. I remember the first time I saw...
"Don't touch it", he said, "Danny is going to call."
"How can you be sure?" Marcus asked
"He said he would, now sit down and relax. We just need to wait".
The phone sat silent for a few seconds both of them staring intently at its small features, the chrome casing, the fingerprints of the thousands of times it used by others.
"He's not calling" Marcus said softly
"Dammit man, you needs to relax, he said he'll call then he'll call, just wait." Leon paced out his words to making every single syllable count. He was looking past Marcus at...
Perched upon a thin branch flailing in the wind, the owl cried out into the night, "Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you?" Only the still, dead night and the rustling of branches and drying leaves responded.
I tampered with my oil lamp and let the flame grow tall, casting shadows that played hide and seek on trees. Shadows bounced off of trunks, flickered to the branches, and waned off on the broad, saw toothed leaves.
The owl's cry grew into the night, screeching to the stars, to the trees, to anyone that was willing to listen. "Who cooks...