It was the last day.
General Richards was tired. Very tired. He had been walking for a long time, and there was still nothing in sight. No city of glass. Not even the path of golden bricks. They were nowhere to be seen.
He sat down in the dirt, even though none of the others were sitting, even though Eliza still had the energy to dance with her nurse. Of course she had the energy; she was the one they had all been giving all their food and water to. She was only a child. She held the future in...
Lionel Richie was running naked down the street.
We saw him while driving to the donut shop. At first, I didn't think it was Lionel. Last time I saw him was grandma's birthday. He was there singing "Dancing on the ceiling." He actually tried dancing on the ceiling but then he fell down and hurt his little head. The police blamed it on gravity. But that's another story.
I had Mike stop the car. Then we both got out. We ran up alongside Lionel, who was running naked through Mrs. Benson's rosebushes. There were thorns embedded in his buttocks.
"Hey,"...
Dolly told me about the swimming pool in Mr. Sakimoto's bonsai garden. The water was warm, she said, no matter what time of year. Also we could pee in it. Mr. Sakimoto didn't mind. In fact, it was expected.
We went after school that one day in February. I'd bought a special bathing suit just for the occasion. It was a Speedo. Yellow. With Scooby Doo on the crotch. Dolly didn't like it, but she wasn't my girlfriend, so it didn't matter.
We arrived at 3 a.m. (The bus broke down so we had to walk.) By that time, we...
Potatoes. He was so sick of eat potatoes; mashed, baked, steamed, roasted, jacket, it didn't matter what topping or how much butter he slathered on, enough was enough. Not that there was any money for toppings or butter. Yesterday he'd gone to the shop at closing time and lurked just out of sight while the already reduced items were being further reduced. Once again, he was able to score a large bag of King Edwards for 29p. Excellent, he could make that last at least three days, maybe more if was able to get some free stuff out of the...
The rain came pouring down upon me. And as I lay there, my cheap gown leeching its red dye into the gutter, I imagined my own blood joining it and just letting myself go away. I thought about it for a long, long time. The rain intensified. The thunder seemed to be synched to my thoughts and my sudden spasms of regret and anguish and misery.
It came down to making a choice. I would either stand up and walk on, or I wouldn't. I thought about how long it would take for me to perish in this place, knowing...
They weren't Norwegian, they were Swedish. We bombed all hell out of them anyway.
That was ash, not smoke. Ash moves slower than smoke. Ash langours. Yes, that might have been soot, but it could have been bone.
In the mess at breakfast, we could heard a chirping through the settling din.
That wasn't a bird.
The old folks filed away from Gregoire slowly, creeping off to investigate a small marble statue of Psyche being ravished by Cupid. The chandelier hung precariously over them, and Gregoire wondered how many shots from his 19th-century pistol would send it crashing down on their aged heads.
But would Bonaparte commit such a gauche act? Gregoire thought not. Even in exile, surrounded by mad old women, he still had his dignity. He held his head high, hoping that the extra height of his admiral's hat would exceed that of the straw bonnets behind him. He would win this psychological battle....
Hush the forest. Hush where the bear was, the deer have been downed. Hush my screaming heart.
In the kitchen where I am carried after my father's death, I ask for one shortbread cookie filled with jam as my mother Connie smiles around like the carousel she is of feelings. I want to sit in the dark corner and think about the bear mauling him. My father Claus, lying on the needles and still.
I ran into the woods and Meryl knocked me out. Unintentionally, I was fighting him as I would a bear. He cried onto my suede, he...
She held the cat tightly in her arms, relishing in the warmth. It was comforting, strangely comforting, how much she could rely on her cat. His name was Alfie and he was her life. However sad it may have seemed that cat was her life.
She carried the cat out into the snow, watching as his eyes looked curiously around, desperately trying to take in all the new sights.
He'd never seen snow before. That's why she'd brought him out in the first place. She hated snow herself. Hated the way it melted the moment it touched her. Hated the...
The children were not at school. The administrators voice continued to echo tinnily in her ear, but she wasn't listening any more. The children were not at school. Their backpacks still sat on the stairs near the landing by the front door. The morning sunlight poured in through the kitchen window as she let the phone slip from her grasp to dangle from its cord, banging slightly against the wall.
She had told them to go away, to leave her alone. She turned looking down the hallway towards the front door, looking at the backpacks sitting on the landing next...