Bombs were the last thing on his mind. If he lost this poker game, it would be his death anyway. The lights flickered, the ceiling dripped and the cigarettes had long since expired. The gaunt janitor across from him wheezed in a satisfied rheumy way. There it is. His tell for a rotten hand.
The girl with the brown eyes sucked on her teeth. The bombs above loosed plaster from the ceiling and it salted her hair. She shook it off like a dog, her brow creased in concentration. She had been squinting the entire game, suffering her near-sighted bet...
The water was clear and the sky, a burden. That clear, opening water annexed from infinity by the murky, swollen sky. Everything the sky held glared and grimaced like sweaty bustlers at a flea market.
And then I look back at the water and eke out a smile before the groaning creak of the sky turning darker toward the night pulls out my grin like a bad tooth.
The water was clear, so clear I couldn't see the bottom.
Lousy sky.
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Waiting, patiently. Hoping that he would answer. But, with her ear pressed up agaisnt the door, she heard nothing. No footsteps. No television blaring music videos. No german shephard barking incessantly. Her greatest fear had been realized. Yet at the same time, her wish had come true. He was gone. The man that lured her in some three ago, only to break her heart. The man she followed half way across the world to be with. The man she gave up her hope and dreams for....
My dad believed the island to be the end of a search for a cure for mom.
The promise of a healer that would finally reverse the soul destroying illness that was taking mom away from us.
Dad didn't care anymore what it would take, money, hope, nervous exhaustion from the endless searching, trying, failing, crying. He had to give it one more go.
Mom wanted to go home as soon as we got into the hotel room. She always wanted to go home even when she was in our house. She could only remember her childhood house and her...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead. I had died probably 15 minutes ago by a raving lunatic. I know, drastic way to go right? Actually, it was quite thrilling.
So, there I was walking on Park Street when I hear this noise coming off from the left. It wasn't like anything I'd heard before. I shouldn't have done it. I'd still be alive. Those are the choices we make I guess. Anyway, I go over to see what's up and this guy jumps...
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The droplets of drool fell like stones from the gaping monstrous mouth. Gusts of racid breathes portruded before it. Sckirrrrrrrrrrr. The earsplitting whistle of its call, feeling like nails were being dragged down a chalk board next to my ear.
More were coming. My fearful eyes could see the shadows dragging themselves along the ground.
Useless bloodied limbs, torn apart by the undergrowth hanging uselessly between their ferocious canines. Blood surrounded their snout.
They were coming. For me.
Standing along the shoreline was different. I took a deep breath as the gentle breeze blow passed me. I couldn't believe that this was my new home. It was so different from the tall buildings of the city. The water danced along my feet as the tide came in. I walked up to the dock and noticed how old it was. The boards had become worn and water logged. It would need to be replaced soon. I noted that I would have to tell my dad when he got here. Carefully, I climbed up onto the rickety dock and walked...
You can count me out. Everybody knows he's not my favorite person. I'm not debating that.
Take the way he eats: He makes these noises. He SINGS the chewing. It sounds sort of charming right at this moment, but in point of fact it's gross. Nobody wants to hear a turkey dinner set to Ave Maria. Two weeks planning a meal, you want a moment of silence. Some good old-fashioned reverence. What's happened to that -- what is it -- an emotion? These days, it's gone.
As I said, I don't like the man. But I also don't like crows...
i jumped off the bridge and hit the water.
OK, so i didn't judge the height of the bridge or he depth of the water, but i jumped nonetheless. instead of the sudden death i had anticipated, i found myself floating on top of the water. the bridge was about 5 feet high, but the water underneath was only four and a half feet deep, as deep as a normal swimming pool.
well, i'm still alive, which is kind of ironic because i didn't intend to jump off the bridge in the first place. but my friends yelled at me,...