Half naked and desperate, the child climbed the thin bars of the door, her cage, staring at the world outside. Her right leg crooked over the horizontal bar as she tilted her body, dark eyes staring longingly at the world.
"Get down from there!" her father snapped angrily. "You're gonna hurt yourself."
"When can I go out, Daddy?" she asked, turning to look at him imploringly. "I want to go out! You never let me do anything."
"You don't want to go out there, babygirl," the man said gruffly. "It's a dangerous world. There are mean people out there that...
While me and my friend were packing, I thought of what we will do during the holiday we have away from school or stress for that matter. I walked up to him with my luggage and grabbed his luggage. I rolled them all the way to the car. He soon joined me in getting everything else in the car. We started to drive soon and soon enough, we reached our destination. I got out of the car and walked to the front desk of the hotel. I grabbed the key card and walked back over to the car. I grabbed...
I walked down the street with my pants around my ankles, arms akimbo, doing the Super Bowl Shuffle with a boombox wrapped around my ears. I had picked up 20 D batteries at the store, and if I was going to do something, I was going to do it right.
With the screaming vocals of Ronnie James Dio blaring from two overworked speakers, I strutted along the Santa Monica Pier. Rather, I did the Penguin Push all down the boardwalk. It was times like these when I was proud to say that I could rock out with my cock out....
The young man ran toward the park building, surrounded by trees, bushes, and several high-rises that glowered down like overbearing siblings eyeing their sibling's latest suitor. The boy was soaking wet, his heart beat furiously in his chest, and his eyes were wide with terror. He knew they were still behind him. They'd already came after his mother, forcing him to leave her far behind if he wanted to escape with his life.
The boy's feet slapped against the ground as he approached the glass door. Yanking it open, eh rushed into a cool white-walled lobby where a handful of...
"You know," Clark said, in-between rising above the water to take breaths as he swam. "I really hate you."
John shrugged; or, at least, performed as much as a shrug as you can while swimming. "I don't see why."
"What do you mean, you don't see why?"
"We're doing what I said we'd do, right? Go for a swim together. You were all uppity about the whole thing, so I challenged you to do one length of the pool with me. Well, here we are, doing one length."
"Yes, but you didn't tell me that we were going to be...
It was a pleasure to burn, in the end. Sarah had known it was coming without being told. Knowing things without being told was all part of being a witch, she supposed.
She hadn't ever chosen, as such - but rather she preferred to let the currents and grooves of the world guide her path through it. And the world had chosen for her to be a witch.
To anybody else, this might have seemed like a state of affairs that could be analysed and considered - weighing up the pros (foresight; cackling) and the cons (burning) - but for...
Donna started twisting and the world melted away. Her socks moved back and forth on the ceramic floor. her elbows were tucked in tight against her, her hands almost parallel to the floor. The other dancers around faded and disappeared. The walls crumbled and let in the cool night air and bright stars overhead.
Then that fell away as well, and there was just Donna and the music.
Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. She shook her hips. The tears dried.
The song ended and the world exploded back into existence. Now she could see Harry with...
She didn't look at him. Not today. Not ever. They'd shared the #15 bus every weekday for four years. Reliable as clockwork they glided through the streets together; alone. She with her Wall Street Journal, small frowns forming with the turn of each page. He with his headphones pumping out Led Zeppelin, eyes mostly closed.
Every few minutes he looked over at her, tried to catch her eye. Maybe today was the day. Maybe today she would put down the black and white pages of bad news and, only for a second, gaze at the man in the red jacket....
She wanted to kill her. She wanted to murder the girl who got me fired. Why? I couldn't explain.
Spinning.
The tiny clockwork bird danced (for want of a better term) in a circle, twirling, singing out its jaunty song.
She sat, watching it sing out its tune, listening to the unique tinny sound of the music box - there was something about that music, that paticular brand, which brought her back to childhood. As a child she had watched the bird, watched it in her mother's palm.
Her mother had, briefly, convinced her that this was a real bird, that this was what happened to them when they were caught, tamed. That you could teach them these songs,...