I hated the fairy picture. Instead of feeling at peace, secure, happy I always had sleepless nights. Mom sleeping on the floor near my bed, comforting me when I cried out. No matter where she put the picture, in another room, even in the trash, it somehow once again appeared somewhere in my bedroom. Once it was inside my Nancy Drew book, another time under the mattress. The worst time was when it floated from the ceiling right onto my face! I screamed the house down even though I didn't at first know what it was.
The parish priest blessed...
My singing was awful. Didn't matter as the audience were drunk, I could see Lorna sticking her tongue down John's throat as the light swept over the audience. They didn't seem to care that anyone might notice and tell John's wife in a text during the interval. After my horrendous attempt at Billy Holiday I heard a voice in my ear, it was a child asking me to talk to someone called Betty who had red hair, an addiction to pickled eggs and had three cats called Tom, Dick and Harry.
She was sitting in the last row and only...
Lost, without a hand to hold. Lizzie slowly sidled her fingers into the palm of Elder Barnes. He placed both hands on her soul bumps, feeling the hairy base of each above the fine stitch work, and the subtle movement below the skin. This act of passive acceptance of his touch was a necessary part of being his student.
"Tell me again of the Biclops." she asked. His fingers moved away from her head, more quickly than customary, forgetting to reciprocate. She understood the snub. He was not letting her feel his own soul flaps. He was angry.
"The Biclops...
I had already been running for way too long. Over rocks and streams, around trees, it didn't seem to matter. The maze of the landscape seemed perfectly clear to me as I forced myself through the forest.
The only things I knew for sure were that I had to get away from this thing and that the only advantage I had was my familiarity of the land.
The beast was definitely faster than me. And hungry. Those two things together weren't making things look good at all.
Why did I have to go into its territory and steal food? Why...
Harold finally decided to turn his life around while he was standing in front of the elevator.
Even though his meeting was on the second floor he hit the up button, buzzing with excitement at the possibilities of where it could take him.
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She leaned on the door frame, getting support from the wood that she no longer got from her feat. The binding had just begun and already she has trouble balancing herself.
Her mother told her that this was tradition. That to go before the matchmaker she needed to be beautiful. To achieve the perfection of beauty she needed to sway in the wind like the willow tree.
The girl had no desire to sway in the wind, she wanted to be the wind. To go where...
Photoshoot for bikinis in the middle of winter in a snow covered backdrop was usually my worst dread. Today, however, I was glad because word reached us that our studio blew up after a group of teenage boys decided to experiment with chemicals using a translated foreign magazine. Disaster!
That night huddled in the nearby bar, drinking mulled cider we all said thankful prayers for our good fortune. Jessica, normally the drama queen, shivered and hugged Milly the girl she most hated in the world, or so she had always thought. Today we all grew up.
Starving to be slim...
The thing about mermaids is, well, that they aren't.
You're thinking seashell bikinis and fish tails, but that isn't it. Not at all.
My cousin Marjorie, this is back in '30, mind you, and the turn for the worse had been taken by all of us. She kept her things, her jewels and her dresses. They became her scales, her fins.
She decided to become a mermaid in the same way that some of us choose to marry. It was deliberate, it took forethought. She knew that she would dive beneath the waves to never return. Perhaps she would give...
The bird took off. The mail was delivered. A red car drove past. An old man with a cane walked past on the sidewalk.
Every day, these things happened in exactly the same way, at exactly the same times.
Other things were the same, too: the news, the conversations she had, the expressions on the faces of the people she met. The bus to work was always four minutes late, like clockwork.
But there were differences, too.
After about ten days, she started to notice things disappearing. First it was her keys, then her couch. Then the maple tree in...
The gate closed behind them.
'And stay out!' shouted the old man. He sneered and spat on the ground.
Billy spat back at him through the heavy iron uprights of the gate. A bubble of saliva struck his tie, but he didn't even flinch.
'Stupid old goat,' snapped Billy as Dan stepped backward shaking his head. Old Man Barnes might be a stupid old goat, but even Dan knew that kids like them shouldn't talk to men like him that way. Dan's dad always going on about how Old Man Barnes had fought in all the big wars and was...