The audience stared open mouthed at me. They hadn't seen the thin rubbery form that had slinked across the stage. Lucky for me the crucial moment was timed perfectly to the final battle scene. This unatural creature obviously had a penchent for the dramatic. Why else would it make the theatre's labarynthine basement and costume storage its base?
The smoke obscured the stage but not my double flip kick.
It took me a while to regain my composure, but afterwards I enjoyed taking the bow.
I shot my butler. He was a mole! I should have known. I'm trained to tell whether someone is lying or not. I'm a secret agent, for crying out loud! Stupid, stupid, stupid. I shot my butler. He wasn't the best butler, actually. I shot my butler.
She always eats oranges in the morning. Awake at 6.30 and out at once to the fruit stall below her window. The sound of the traders' early morning banter is hazy in the grey veil of October dawn and the lines of fruit like a crown of brightly coloured gems awaiting her selection. Two precious oranges in a brown paper bag and back to her third storey apartment. When she slices into the dimpled skin of the orange its juices swell onto the kitchen counter and onto her pale fingers. Her hands are laced with the citrus scent for all...
"Ohh..." The word escaped my lips as a awe-struck sigh. The island was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. Bulky, mountain-like rocks dotted with dark green trees, surrounded by white sand, and water the color of the clearest, bluest sapphire imaginable. As we flew nearer to it the air became sweet and clear and filled my lungs. The breeze rustled my short brown hair. I tucked myself into a ball and executed a perfect mid-air summer-salt. I watched as the water came closer and closer. This place, I could tell, was magic.
"It was a cold and stormy night..." I read as I began to read another mystery novel. A lot of stories begin with this phrase/description of the scenery. Whenever I read it, I don't imagine something bad is going to happen because I have read it many times. But rather, if the opening scene was to describe a more creative and original scene I may be more interested. These are the thoughts that roam through my head as I try to do the reading assignment for my high school literary class. It's impossible to focus when you cannot read through...
She was the most delicate girl in town. I liked to think of her as something made out of matchsticks, and knobby joints. Her voice, it never seemed to mature, even as she stretched into a teenager, and curves set in, she would still skitter on her toes, and wring her hands, and never make eye contact.
The crush I developed on her was no not so unusual, I think the whole town was in love with her in their own way, male, female, child, animal. Girls like that aren't meant to last if you think about it. Those quiet...
Dear one,
Well, I finally made it, I'm in Spain staring out over Santiago de compostella, i always ment to do this with you. I know you know that and as you can see its beautiful here. I wish the accident had never happened i could feel you holding my hand the whole way i swear it. i could hear you whisper at night and damn it if i thought this would help me i longed for you every night i slept in your bag i could smell you. hear your voice in my ear. Damn it! Why did you...
He stood inside the pen, staring out at the approaching truck warily. It was a large vehicle, blood red with a black stripe down the center and dust billowing out behind it as it drove down the dirt road. Slowly, the truck came to park outside of the house and the driver's side door opened.
There came a grunt as a black wheelchair was pulled out and onto the ground. The dog's tail immediately began to wag as he saw the sandy-haired man open the chair, then plop a cushion into the seat. Another grunt and the broad-shouldered man was...
The children were not at school. They were not at home. Monica was frantic at the thought of Danny and Eric being missing. Where did they go? It was 7:30 pm on Wednesday, the day they usually got out early and went to Mrs. Frank's for what they called "playtime" before Monica got home from work. But Shelly Frank said they never arrived off the bus, and the Principal said they didn't arrive at school that morning, and Monica's husband, Max was notified. "That bastard," thought Monica. After 3 years of being absent, Max was still a contact for emergencies...