The maple leaves will change and fall with a certain grace - November will begin.
Carla read that sentence in her Literature textbook over and over, and the thought that kept running through her mind was, 'Who edited this book?'
That wasn't entirely true, but her internal monogue ran along these lines. Was she the only tenth grader who knew that semicolons connected independant phrases? Older people complained about how texting was ruining the language, but what difference did that make when a text book author, in what she assumed was an edited textbook ILLUSTRATING the language, couldn't even catch...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
A thumb fell out.
But whose thumb was it?
Wasn't hers.
Wasn't mine.
Wasn't her husband's.
She checked each of her children's fingers and toes.
All twenty of them.
When she was assured that all the digits she cared about were accounted for, she stopped shaking.
What a lousy piece of mail.
Who would send her such a thing?
Had she made any enemies lately?
Was this a warning?
Maybe they got the wrong address.
She checked the front of the envelope.
Envers Household
1234 Lane
Somewhere, City USA
That was her address alright....
Nicky crouched, letting sand dribble through her fist. If only the sand were falling through the hour glass instead, the time for departure drawing closer one grain at a time. The water was almost flat, small wave rolling onto the shore.
"Why can't we leave?" She asked without looking back. A sigh and a rustle of sand and clothing.
"Red sky at night, sailor's delight," Dirk answered, letting the rest of it go unsaid.
Nicky grumbled, dropped the rest of the sand and stood. "Why do they hold everything up for an old saying?" Just above the high tide mark...
Chazz sat back after moving off a ways. He wanted to see the reaction. It wasn't going to be easy for the old man. Chazz had a picture in his house of his granparents sitting together on the beach. Most beach chairs were low to the ground, these weren't, these afforded old folks a short trip to vertical. The women weren't memborable, but the men were. Both we wearing white undershirts, one V-neck the other not, black shorts with gold clasp belt buckles, and black dress sock up to their knees. The old man was dressed the same way.
He...
The wind swept through the area, sending a chill through the hearts of all those that were paying respects here, the weather reflected the emotions contained here, it was violent and broken, moaning around like hell was chasing on its heels. Despite the destructive nature, the gale seemed to gather behind me and encourage me towards a path I had walked often, towards the highest part of this graveyard. The thorns dug into my hand harder, a painful reminder of why I was here. The sun had started to retire, casting an eerie golden glow, hitting the headstones in such...
It never speaks,
it barely breathes,
it never fades away,
It sucks you up, then spits you out,
leaving you behind.
It tugs at your heart,
then casts it out like trash.
it walks and talks with others,
but ignores you completely.
It cast it's line,
and pulled you in,
then threw you to the sharks,
you spun in it's orbit,
only to fly out and land on your face.
it left you for things,
pieces of paper and plastic.
it orbited your world once,
the left to spin through another.
that is the behavior of the void.
I shot my butler. His name was Greg. I shot him because I don't think butlers should be called Greg. They should be called things like Alfred or Jeeves or Cadbury or Pennyworth. Not Greg, who was from New Jersey. He didn't have a British accent. He lisped. And he was a dwarf. And his armpits stank. And he insisted on working naked. That wouldn't have been so bad if his scrotum hadn't been seven feet long so that it dragged behind him when he walked. True, it helped keep the marble floors a little more polished, but grandma kept...
butterfly is my name, butterfly is my code name is what I mean. Small 'b'. Serial number 123456123456. One day I will be allowed to see green hills and blue skies but for now I am living under fluorescent light in the bunker I get told is home. Did I tell you I am an alien, accidentally arrived here ten of your years ago and kept alive, miraculously, not sliced up like my companions for the delectation and curiosity of the military and scientific communities.
One day I might be free to fly away like my namesake.
My wings are...
She'd been a good wife. Comely and passionate, even through bearing 6 children (4 of whom survived) and I'd only strayed but once.
Of course she had known straight away, but had nodded; she wasn't perfect either. But while I loved her, and she me, we'd understood. No one can bear everything alone. And some loads were the cause of each other.
I'd known she had gazed upon others with a lusty eye. To be honest, I wasn't as philosophical as she; fierce jealous rage had filled me with hypocrisy. I learned a valuable lesson in self-delusion, but maybe not...