But I call it "swing theory." It's sort of an uneducated, improvised explanation of how everything clicks. How one digs the atom. Why one gets so coo-coo for photons. What hip event is on the horizon.
It's crazy, baby. Quantum bums.
"I-I can't reach it," she choked out.
The small girl had been lying at the base of a tree in the woods, to weak to move, but too motivated to give up. Running away was not easy, but worth it.
Her cheek was bloodied and so were her legs.
Her rabbit left abandoned in a gaping hole in the tree. She dropped it, and now she couldn't get it back.
She twisted around painfully and poked her head into the hole to find an assortment of bugs making a home of the hole and of her rabbit.
The tears she...
"I gotta get out of here" he cried.
The room began to spin as he collapsed and sank against the wall. This was only the fourth time he had tried this method, and yet he was still shivering from the cold. Was only his fault he couldn't swim very well in the dark, he was just disoriented from being stuck in the room for so long.
"Now, now Mr. Stevens. No use getting all wet and miserable on my behalf." A voice softly chuckled above him.
Stevens could clearly see that the intercom in front of him was glowing red....
It was the only thing left of the north building. Three thousand tons of steal, concrete, and human flesh had been on the corner of 21st and L in northern Chicago, now all that was recognizable was a portion of the elevator control switch from unit 2-b.
"Mr president," the secret service agent tapped President Chris Goodwin on the shoulder.
He turned and nodded to the young agent and took the envelope containing the keys that would end the world.
"This isn't the right response Chris," said his wife. "We have to consider other options."
"With all due respect to...
Fault.
The window?
The guardrail that gave way?
The father who opened the window earlier?
The mother who moved the ottoman too close to the window?
The gate that inexplicably stopped being baby-proof that night?
The nanny who ran into the other room to grab his bottle?
The parents who were away at a colleague's baby shower?
The decision to buy an apartment on the 15th floor?
The gusty winds that day?
The decision to go to the party?
The invite?
Candace wants all her glasses to look half-full, but Martin can't stop complaining. He's tried to keep his mouth shut when work is too busy and when he gets cut off on the road, he sometimes count from ten out loud.
But generally, Candace is too fat (thick!) and their house keeps feeling smaller (cozy!) with all of the things she hoards (collects!) that he's prone to throw some of the junk (trinkets!) at the wall in hopes that they shatter. When she sweeps up the mess, she hums the chimney sweep song from Mary Poppins.
Once a month, she...
We had to move quick. Aside from the smell of decay, and the swarms of flesh-eating bugs that harangued us at every turn, the swamp was cold, and Dr. Fjord's injury was not getting any better. I didn't like dragging her through the murky waters like this, but I didn't have a choice. I held her as far from the water's surface as possible, but I couldn't keep her out entirely. She wasn't doing much to help, though I could tell it wasn't by choice. She was barely conscious.
"How far?" I asked, my voice no more than a rasp....
It was like the time he thought that Daddy was hurting Mummy, he was sure. He was certain there'd be a Reasonable Explanation, like when Mummy shouted at God in the middle of the night, and asked Him for 'more'.
He was trying to work it out, to see what the Reasonable Explanation could be. Sometimes there isn't one. One morning when Granddad Alan was alive and he was staying at the house, he'd found his granddad eating Smokey's SuperRabbit food for breakfast with Mummy's red label milk.
He'd tried to see the Reasonable Explanation but there hadn't been one,...
He watched from a distance, hidden behind a bush. The two tigers snarled at each other, circling around, judging each other's strengths, weaknesses. His camera was held up to his eye, and the only part of his body were his fingers: depressing the shutter, muffling the click, repeat. They were magnificent creatures and couldn't have been more than three years old. Most likely this was their first time encountering another, hostile male. This would be the fight where they proved their worth. Maybe they were fighting over a girl, the age-old battle. But msot likely it was territory: this is...
Travel light, but take everything with you. Everything that you might need. The bare essentials. Nothing that might be termed as excess. Nothing that might weigh you down, nothing that might, at the other end, end up in a cupboard or a loft, forever after forgotten and stored away.
That's the problem with belongings. You accumulate so many unnecessary things over the years, things that once meant something to you, perhaps even a lot, but that, over an indeterminate period of time, lost that once owned meaning and became, instead worthless, meaningless. The Valentine's Day card from an old lover,...