Smell of moss, picked up by wind and lifted by trees. Flash of fire-rimmed eyes, toss of disdainful hair, gold-threaded-with-crimson. Derisive eyes and a tight little mouth, quick to contempt and slow to praise. Slender hands and slender frame roped the man in as easy as you please, and for what seemed like a thousand years promises of glittering gold kept her tethered to him like a
I've forgotten how to do this...how to just sit down, and type out my thoughts, or my feelings. I find that I'm constantly carrying my notebook around, with my favourite Pilot pens...and then I will sit, and I sit, and sit...and nothing happens anymore. In my room, in boxes and boxes, are books and books and books. Countless stacks of written word from a lifetime's worth of contemplation, emotion, trials and tribulations. But now....now I cannot seem to pick up the pen, or tap on my keyboard...it just doesn't happen. And what's most frustrating is how I am constantly thinking...
I'd been tumbling in the corner of the market square. Its what I do. People give me money. They throw it in my upturned cap. I did three somersaults and landed square on my feet. No one clapped. What do they want of me? I followed up with a twist in the air and a front roll, but still no-one applauded. I'm not sure they even saw.
The dog was watching though. His eyes curious, his mouth in a doggy sort of smile. I saw him emulate my somersault as he trotted off towards his owner, who was pink and...
Marvin hates it when things don't go according to plan. It's quite simple really: when a person calls you, you answer the phone.
But, this just isn't going to happen, now is it? In fact, it's never gonna happen.
Not as long as he can't get away from Melinda.
"...so, my dad was all angry, you know? He told me that I had to help him with the yard work, and I didn't want to-"
"That's great, but-"
"-I'm not even good at yard work! Allergies and all of that? Yeah, allergies can really get a person down. The worst...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. Her body was cold, hard like marble, but also soft -- like frozen meat. That's all she was now: meat. The light was gone, and I could not sleep curled up next to my dead sister.
I needed to sleep. It would be at least another day before we made it to the border, maybe even two before we hit the safe house. Sonia would start to stink by then. And I would lose my mind if I didn't sleep.
Still, her body next to mine reminded me that it was only...
The wise woman quietly opened the door, like a portal to the Other World, where a young woman's fist was held up as if to knock. Whether it was caught by her speed or its own hesitation, Meg wasn't sure.
"Expected was I?" a sweet voice entered the room.
The crone shrugged. "Bess is it?" At least it was mortal kin.
"We both know you would be here one way or another. One day or another."
"Do I have thy leave to enter, Elder One?" the spoken song continued. Sweet insolence lost on the witnesses.
"Do YOU not THOU me!"...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. She'd always known she was a woman, but pretty was a word that had never crossed her mind.
Shortly after she had reached the level of confidence where she didn't have to be paranoid about a little bit of stubble showing, or somebody noticing her hips weren't quite the right shape -- she suddenly became a little more confident.
All it took was sitting down in her favorite coffee shop with a smile on her face. That was it. That was when she met Sam. Her heart started pounding when he...
They stood in front of one another with only the silence in between.
It had been like that for a while. She hadn't known what to say. He had been waiting for her to say it. So both stayed silent, begging each other to break it with any kind of sound.
The silence had actually begun from the moment the date had begun, strange because it wasn't their first. No, it was one of many. The pair had been together for almost three months now. He had asked her if a date that night sounded good. She said yes, because...
The fat girl at Kentucky Fried Chicken touched my forehead with the palm of her hand. Her skin was oily and she had pimples. There was a green fungus growing on one armpit and I knew that when she was in junior high, she played the trombone. But I let her touch me anyway.
"You are not where you belong," she said. "You are not doing what you are meant to do."
"What am I meant to do?" I asked. "I know it's not to be a porn star because that would mean getting laid and that is something I...
"And when I get older, I'm going to be a fairy!" little Leslie exclaimed. On their second playdate, she and her new pre-school friends were already discussing their life goals. As the only girls in their new class, they quickly bonded and had to stick together.
As they grew, their friendship did as well. They squabbled over birthday party themes, which high-school to attend and not infrequently, boys. As two went off to college, Leslie chose a different route. She became known on the music festival circuit as the best-damn flowered headband maker... it wasn't long before she had her...