He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. He was breathing heavily. I turned round from folding the laundry and looked at him quizzically. "What's wrong, Stefan?" It wasn't like him to run for a bus. It was so out of character. "Damn, thugs," he said and plonked himself into the nearest chair. "Stole my phone, my Ipod and my wallet." I dropped the shirt I was folding and went to him, enfolding him in my arms. His accent still had the power to make me weak at the knees. He hadn't been in the...
My sleep was disturbed. I hadn't eaten after a long day trekking across the desert. Weak and faint I lay down and fell into a troubled sleep where images of food flitted through my dreams.
I hungered to eat and in lucid cravings ate all that flew towards me. My hunger so intense now I turned upon myself. I can eat myself I thought, then I will live and tomorrow I can begin again.
I felt my hot breath on my head as my mouth turned upon myself...my wet tongue licked the side of my face as though anticipating...then in...
It was cold, and soulless. It was mechanical, drunken and above all else it was heartbreaking.
I couldn't beleive it when I saw him in the crowd after all these years. The proverbial one who got away. It was even less imaginable that he would be the one to reach out to hold my hand, that he would be the one to pull me into his arms just as our song began to play.
The tickets for this concert cost a fortune, I had stayed up all night just to get through on the phone. I had brought a date...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet.
"Mummy, Mummy!" he yelled, his face flushed and eyes gleaming with excitement.
"What is it, sweetheart?" I asked, my heart in my mouth, fearing the worst.
Surely nothing terrible had happened in those few short minutes since I'd turned my back and left him to his own devices?
Unconsciously scanning his body for weeping wounds, gaping gashes or odd shaped bones like a Men in Black zapper I began to relax.
"What's happened now?" I said, smiling at my golden child.
"Mummy, I rode up the hill...
It was really just a matter of survival. Keep going and keep going and eventually, soon if they were lucky, they would reach a village, a town, a bloody great city with skyscrapers and McDonalds and satellite TV. All right, maybe that was taking things a bit far, pushing their luck to the extreme, but it was a beautiful daydream.
"You all right back there?" called Hitesh loudly, despite his cracked, dry throat, trying to make himself heard over the rushing, roaring river that the canoe was racing along.
Ash nodded, realised Hitesh couldn't see him, and carefully leant forward....
What do you make of the man who sells his muse?
It's what she wants.
It's what she asks for.
It's the active creation of a ghost, the planning for something that remains in verse and shadow long after the departure of the flesh.
It's the creation of memory and emotion that will remain fresh for the consumer, but will soon become the thorn for the creator
It's the serving of beloved as buffet.
It's what we need.
And ask for.
What do we make of the girl who sells her desire.
It's how she succeeds.
It's how she fails....
They panic was reaching heart-stopping momentum now. Jake was sure that at any second his body would give up, surrender, break apart or explode or melt away into the once beautiful sea. It wasn’t beautiful any more. The fear had seen to that.
One minute having the time of their lives, the next…
“Shark!”
That one word was enough to instil panic into the entire group, even the captain, the tour guide. Everyone. And no one had known what to do – it hadn’t been covered in the onboard safety announcements at the beginning of the day, so many long,...
5,4,3,2,1
You won't remember this
Not long now. A shame really.
All because of the accident.
You don't have either the Ends or the Means.
Hell, the Ends justify the Means?
We all know some cheat, especially because they think it won't matter.
What's the point in doing that anyway.
This is no cut and paste to fill the page cheating.
In life (for every other dumb schmuck) you can't cut and paste.
All because of the accident.
6 minutes is all you've got.
It's not like this is even real.
Barely even conscious. Funny that!
It must be SO...
My grandma had this incredible house. Like one of the ones you see in movies. Like, this is going to be a really crazy example, but did you ever see "The Tigger Movie"? Like Winnie the Pooh. There's this part where they're in the attic and I always remember wishing we had an attic with all that cool old stuff to explore in our house. Then I found Grandma's attic and I knew I'd hit something special! There was actually a stand-up mirror covered in a sheet and a few large trunks full of old clothes! So great.
I think...
"The proles are revolting" the minister shouted. "They stink on ice" chimed another.
The prince stood montioned for silence and spoke. "My Grandpere was a prole which makes me 1/4 prole and I'll have no such talk in here." "Now if theres no objections let's get the hell out of here!" "The train for Geneva is leaving soon, Proles be damned!"