"I am getting so tired of this jerk being thought of as the best reporter in town" Dan muttered to himself, "but I'll show everyone that I believe in the news somehow". Dan looked across from the news room to see everyone praising bob, the jerk, then suddenly the ground started to shake and throw everyone to the ground. "An earthquake" bob thought, "this is finally my chance to unseat that snob". As dan grabs and runs outside,
My friends are so annoying they threw fake snow all over me as my perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe came out of the oven. I hate it when my friends team up against me like I really don't like it because they treat me like nothing, like I mean nothing to them, I know that sometimes people get annoyed and sometimes even a bit moody. But still, I want to know that I belong, that they care about me and that they need me, but really it's annoying. it is now going to take ages to get this fake snow...
To push a button. Such a simple thing. But where would it take me?
Down.
But what will be waiting for me there? Is it a place I want to go?
I thought I had hit rock bottom, but when there seemed no lower place to go, the answer is this elevator.
Down
But maybe Down is Up. The raised letters under my fingers promised escape and newness. In a life where everything is the same and without hope, any change can be good, right? Hope as a byproduct of fear.
Nothing to lose.
Down.
"Yes, I know that she murdered someone. A terrible accident, if I do recall."
"An accident? She killed her husband when she was 25 because he was fucking his secretary. Remember."
"I do remember, but she repented and now is attempting to live a peaceful life. Can't she have that?"
"Why do you love them so much? They are disgusting, and I hate being here. The only we reason we had to leave was because you loved them more."
The earth shook for an instant, as the old man moved his king.
"Lucifer, I will not have you speak about...
I still washed his shirt. There was only his plaid shirt, because it was what he'd worn. But I still washed it. My son disappeared a few years ago. They found his body by the lake. He was wearing that old plaid shirt. The rest of his clothes I gave to my nephew, about his size. But that plaid short...I'd never give that to anyone. It was his, it was all I had left. The plaid shirt. His room was in perfect condition, but it didn't seem right. But his shirt in my soft-from-washing-so-many-dishes hands. It felt like everything was...
She began a cigarette.
She thought about the beginning, when both of them wrestled with being simultaneously addicted to and afraid of each other. The fear was its own pleasure: they both noticed that the adrenaline of their hours apart was worth infinite foreplay.
She watched the first part of the logo turn orange and then grey. The image lasted in the ash for a second before mixing in with the image of the paper.
Later, she began to notice a strange emotional trajectory in their evenings together: the impulse, the sex, and then sadness, or disappointment. The sweat turned...
Like a breeze in the wind
Rising and falling.
Telling and calling
Whispers that fly
and then die without falling.
Like a small spec of dust
that seems just like the others
but is really unique
as it floats and then shudders
its way to the ground
and then splits and disperses
its atoms around.
It's horses for courses.
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. Even this morning, she hadn't really thought of it. A white dress, sure. A veil, sure. Kitten heels, yes. She had told Marjorie that she didn't want her make-up done.
"I've been doing all right for forty years," she said. Marjorie just looked at her and then looked away without saying anything.
Marjorie was pretty. Everyone thought so. It wasn't so much a matter of thinking, even. Empirically, she was attractive. But she wore a lot of make-up.
This morning Marjorie wasn't there. Wasn't there to watch her pull on stockings...
OHMYGOSH A BABY CHICK!
AHH!! IT'S A PICTURE OF PEOPLE SWIMMING ON AN IPHONE!
WHAT DID PEOPLE DO BEFORE THE INTERNET, CARLY!!
Nothing but a typical Monday night of avoiding sleep and showering, trying to be productive but failing miserably. I'm so hungry, but it's way too late to even think about eating. With ballet in the morning, it's probably best to just shower and get it over with and get in bed or I'll regret it for the next week.
HEY MICAH. WE SHOULD BORROW CJ's CAR AND GO TO TARGET ON WEDNESDAY.
OKAY, IF THIS GUY'S TELLING THE...
I can taste the tingle on my tongue the second it touches. I can smell the sweet/sour, crisp, smell. The food is amazing here. They have things I have never seen before. All of the yellows, oranges, blues and reds. The rainbow of food. The tastes of everything is new and refreshing. None of it makes sense. How can a place like this, make such beautiful flavors? The new discoveries of flavors and smells fills my mind. What new things can they even make? Find? The question lingers in my mind.