It confused them, the gnarled branch lying across rows of newly planted wheat. The tree had been healthy and the weather clear. A bob of bushy fur worked its way along the length of the fallen wood as a squirrel investigated the carnage.
Years from now, when the children had scaled the sheer rock face near their home, they'd think back to this day.
"And now where shall we climb?" the boy asked.
"There," the girl replied, a mountain peak under her finge
The dystopia is a genre of fiction designed to teach a lesson about society by imaging a future society warped in some terrible way. The interesting thing about dystopian novels is their reliance on a single, antagonistic character to provide a terrible monologue of exposition to the horrified protagonist, explaining just how and why society went bad, and why the system must persist.
George Orwell's 1984 has O'brien, Aldous Huxley's Brave New World has Mustafa Mond, and Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 has Captain Beatty, the remarkably well-read "fireman" who has turned his back on all that literature had to offer...
I remember sitting there, minding my own business. The wind was a slightly moving napkins about the table. In frustration, I put my glass on the stack to keep it from dancing in the breeze.
As I sitting, waiting for Charles to arrive for our lunch, she walked by.
It was a fleeting moment, to say the least. But my slouched pose suddenly corrected itself. I was no longer concerned with the wind or its affect on napkins.
She was crossing the street, coming toward the cafe. She was wearing a red summer dress, and it being an August evening,...
Mia and John sat by the stones, and no one noticed them.
"You shouldn't be here." John explained.
"My dad's hated here, so what? I need to know the truth."
John ducked under a tree, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Your dad is traced back to you. His enemies are yours now."
"You mean people want to kill me?"
"Just people you're dad took from." John said quietly, a blur against the dark stones.
Mia looked at him, incredulous. "It could be any of these people."
She looked around, and saw people through windows, walking through the streets,
They gathered in the woods.
The circle wasn't complete. It probably wouldn't be - they were a dying breed, a dying art.
None of them were sure if the ceremony did anything - if it ever had. The elder members of the group - the ones who were dying out, the ones who were disappearing before they could share enough information to perpetuate them - claimed that it had worked, that it still worked, but the magic was dying with the belief.
The youngest walked the path of the circle, her bare feet already dirty, her old dress (torn, ruined,...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. The asassin tracked the victim across the city, determined to finish his mission. He slid through the shadows, his black clothing blending perfectly with the night. Suddenly, the victim stopped. The killer was on alert at once. he lifted the 45. caliber and readied himself to pull the trigger. Suddenly, it all went black. He had been knocked to the gr
"Hey Macarena!"
Robert watched in complete disbelief as the group of Anonymous supporters-turned-flash mob began to dance in the middle of the campus. They raised their hands, moving with the music. Several onlookers giggled at the sight,, others rolled their eyes. One yelled out "What's the frequency Kenneth?!"
Robert just shook his head. Crazy kids, he thought.
When I see these flowers, and this man standing here (that's me, by the way), and I see all the men with guns walking behind me, I'm supposed to say that the flowers remind me of a lady. I'm supposed to taste the dust in my mouth, remember my comrades who gave their lives, understand the difference between pride and loyalty, duty and identity.
Mostly, I remember not knowing where I stood with any of these things; thinking that this was the process to figuring it out.
We're all figuring it out, aren't we? To know where you stand is...
It was so completely and utterly disgusting. the boys were throwing the book round the room while she fumed and screamed at them. the other girls teamed up to stop them. after they were kicked out of the classroom and punished, they just joked around and acted like it was all fun and games. after that incident, that was where i stepped in. i went to the library and wrote down every book in the database that concerned dealing with bullying and peer pressure, then brought it to the teacher as a list of references she could look to. but...
It had been a long day the escape from the crowd into the woods had worn Jessica out completely she was tired. leaving him behind at the alter was the hardest thing she had ever done abut looking at the hand held in hers and his long gait as he traversed the trail easily she knew this was right. The man before her she had always loved she couldn't believe that he had come back for her though he said he would. Years before he had went away to travel the world but the moment he walked into the room...