Pixie dust. I didn't think it existed before now. Until I experienced it firsthand. I had floated a few feet above the ground, spinning and whirling. Everything was different now. And beautiful. It shimmers and looks like gold sparkles. But it's not, it's so much more special. Fairies are real. Pixie dust is real. Take a closer look around you, you'll see it too.
You know how people always use that metaphor of how an iceberg shows a small portion of the story, but the ice travels much deeper underneath? I was quite literally experiencing that right then. Both externally and internally. My chest was burning for air and my body was thrashing up against the coarse underneath of the ice pool. I didn't care that my eyes were stinging or the water in my mouth was gushing down my throat. What may have been a beautiful glistening lake was now a dark trench of terror. I had never known what snow was like...
Everybody slept at eight. You had to sleep by eight. The air grew still as the sun went down, such was the way of the savannah. By the time darkness had enveloped the world, the constant patter of feet heard throughout the day disappeared.
Once in a while, one of the goats would make a noise, otherwise, it was dead silence, like a drawn breath- the night was listening. Huddled inside their rooms praying were the superstitious, trying to ward of Dimka son of the soil, who it was said came for human sacrifice around this time.
Silence, the air...
It was all good and well having a goal in life. Knowing your purpose.
He had known his for years, he had worked tirelessly day in, day out, for fifteen years, putting his dominoes in place so that he would be able to topple them at the exact moment.
But everyone needs a day off.
Giving in WASN'T an option. I absolutely had to make it out of this place alive. Now, I know that no one gets through high school unscathed, but I had been observing the teenage life long enough to learn a few things. Number one: Teenagers are brutal. They will stop at nothing to ensure that they hold a place at the very top of the popularity ladder. They will back stab, manipulate, or talk their way in or out of any situation. Number two: When it comes to survival, anything goes. That's right, anything. If you need a 80% to...
"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.
Never leave the house looking less than your best. It is this way that we show respect for others (paraphrased from Tom Ford)
We are respectful of your anger, we are wary of your rage - we are aware of our own imperfections. The sight of us naked , raw, unshorn will sicken you send into a blind fury of cataclysm.
So we buy hats
And thank you for the many choices.
My sweet Lord
I am not the hero of this story
I have abdicated my own starring role
I will live with that
or otherwise
I have chosen a poor teacher
or I have not made a choice
and that is the worst kind of choosing
She is not the villain of the story
I release her
bye
bye
become what you must, teacher, villain, muse
This is not a test
but I will take it
and pass it
with abandon and lust and glee
But it will not make me a hero
It will make me me
The results were in, and despite it all, she didn't want to know.
She didn't want to be told. She didn't want anyone else to know. She'd fought for these tests, fought to receive the results, and now they were in her hands...
"You're not going to open them, are you?"
He had known all along that she wouldn't do it - she realised it now. He knew her far too well. She placed the envelope delicately onto the table, and took his hands instead.
"I'm not ready to know, not yet. I've had so long getting used to the...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. But was pushed away, rudely by a tall man. He walked in, I had seen him before. Years younger. The features were still the same. He walked straight for me, not hesitating. Called to me: "Jacob.". The voice too was familiar but different somehow. His eyes were my father's, the nose too. But it was not him, nor was it my brother.
He talked fast: "I have to prove something."
I didn't know how to reply, I couldn't place him. That face, I felt if I...