Reading the random prompt for today I felt a shiver of unease as though someone had been spying on me throughout my life. I am not who I appear to be. Not a rich suburban housewife whose main pleasure in life is secretly eating a tub of toffee icecream watching daytime tv as my millionnaire husband is working overtime and entertaining clients with champagne in a 5 star restaurant. I spend my life between two worlds, a medieval princess whose life is complicated by my uncle, a brooding bishop and a bastard brother who thinks he has a claim to...
She kept her eyes down, on her shoes. People brushed past her, maybe impatiently. She didn't move, she didn't walk.
She waited for someone to take her hand, to try to talk to her, to lead her away. It didn't happen. No one looked at her. Nothing happened, and she heard nothing. Better that way, because how could she explain anything?
Making the decision, she walked over to the bench, sat down at the very edge, across from a display of vacuum cleaners. Still, she stared at her feet.
Without warning, he was standing in front of her, cheeks still...
The only sound that broke the stillness was the sound of the horses' hooves as they struck the ground. Garth took off his hat and waved it in front of his face.
"How can you see like that?" asked Becky, motioning to the endlessly flat landscape before them. Sand reflected the unending glare of the sun.
"I read somewhere that you lose more body heat through your head than anywhere else," said Garth, fanning himself with the straw monstrosity.
"So you're choosing to be cool over being able to see?" Becky shielded her own eyes from the light.
"Buck here...
It was morn in the Garden of the Hesperides. Clouds of warm mist floated around, cloaking everything in white. The three Hesperides were dancing around Hera's golden apple tree, singing to make it grow. Ladon burst from his cave, growling. "Everyone's a critic. Quiet Ladon! You're upsetting the tree!" Hope, the eldest Hesperide, yelled at their scaly roomate. They sat down near the roots of the enormous tree and waited for their 9:00 appointment. "Cousin Apollo should be here in 3...2...1." Peace said, looking at the vines.
Waves of black ink, striking against the porcelain-like skin of my hand. They twist around my fingers and across the back of my hand, turning and sweeping. I stare at the lines and swirls on my hand and try to remember. I try to think back to remember how they got there. I try to think of something, anything that might give me a clue to what it means but nothing comes. My classmates brush past my and I can feel their eyes boring into me. Yeah, I know it's weird but I'm sure it means something. It has to....
Nothing is more terrifyingly beautiful than the intensity of a woman's Stare.
Not a gaze or a glace, but a Stare. One that lasts longer than a couple
seconds but no longer than a minute. The kind that cuts its way through
you, making you feel more- and at the same time, less- secure in your
strength as a man.
It was the fall that surprised me the most.
I knew how it was supposed to feel. I'd been through it before. Gravity would pull me into the clutches of the wind as I silently watched you ascend the sky of my esteem, shining bright. I let everything rush by me. I knew that, though I was drawing warmth from you, you would be just as the sun, emitting light without focusing on me.
I'd been through it before. I thought I was supposed to cross my arms and let my head hang back as it consumed me.
But it...
The sun this morning grows short thick shadows from the cobblestones. A sweaty head against the curb, red hatching at his temple, bleeds dark light onto the lane.
Did someone win last night?
No, the square is too clean.
But it's too late for so little noise.
Perhaps the town has emptied its contents into the universe, jettisoned the citizenry, the mutts and ferals, the tourists and the visitors.
Oh, the visitors.
Who were those visitors? Cheerless, I thought at first. But, no, I reconsidered, occupied.
I look back at the sweaty head, shake mine, and continue, hand in my...
the memories throw me back in time,
to days and nights past.
Talking with lost friends,
and walking through fresh green grass,
the memories linger always.
seeing the sun slowly turn my skin beet red,
and the snow chill my blood.
seeing winter's past flit past my eyes,
and flowers bloom and wilt.
seeing words on my computer screen,
typed in earlier days.
the past is a tricky thing,
it lingers with us,
yet we spend our entire lives trying to make it last.
every moment of the past can be preserved in a way,
we just need to try...
Another Friday, another week gone.
I've been keeping track in my head. There's this week, then Finals week. Then there's Spring Break, Prom week, AP Test week, then two weeks of nothing before Graduation day.
I've been fighting with myself. Do I leave? Do I stay? For the longest time I've been wanting to leave and never look back. To leave this school, this home, this city, this state.
I've been mad at myself. Because only recently have I started noticing him. I've known him since middle school, but it's now, Senior year, that I realize I want to be...