When I was younger, I remember all of the pressure that was placed on me to be good enough.
The training that I had to endure, to get where I am today. At the top of my game.
But I keep asking myself? "Is this really what I want? Am I'm living for myself, or for others?"
I turned the medallion in my hands as I thought of how all I wanted to do was to make them proud! My parents, and my coach.
But now that's in the past.
Now I realize that what I want, and what they...
"I really don't see why your dollhouse needs to be 1:10 scale," Jose grumbled as he surveyed the wood-and-glue staircase that Sandra had erected in the middle of the garage.
"I'm thinking it needs a bit more support here," Sandra pointed to the middle stair, ignoring his complaints. "Pass me the staple gun, will you?"
"When are you going to make the dolls?" Jose wondered.
"Silly," Sandra chided him. "I'm not going to MAKE the dolls. They'll come by themselves."
"Huh?"
Sandra smiled mysteriously. "You'll see."
Jose shrugged.
"By the way, you probably shouldn't come down here at night."
"The key to the door is lying on the floor, a meter and a half to your right," it instructed. The more it spoke, the more unnatural it seemed to Jolene, the more artificial. Synthesized.
Slowly she followed its directives, feeling along the stone-cold floor in the dark. "Be quick," it admonished her tonelessly.
Finally her fingers brushed it; her pounding, she seized the key and stumbled her way back to the door. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm, and carefully inserted the key into the lock. To her relief, it turned, and the door moved...
"Do you know how much you're paying to be there?"
Of course she knew, looking at her shoes. They were pretty shoes - very nice ones. She was glad she'd worn them. Something good to look at, a pattern to lose herself in as she tried to drown out the sound of her parents raging at her.
About university, this time, but really it could be anything. Insert subject here, and they would rant.
Lots of spirals on these shoes. Lots of colours, too -
Oh. They were looking at her. Expecting a response.
"Yes."
It seemed to be the...
Sometimes you look kinda creepy when you are happy
Really?
sorry
I mean it is an odd thing to say but well I guess it is what it is, I don't feel creepy
No, no I, I don't know why I said it
It's OK
Yeah, I'm just weird tonight. Everyone is gone and it just me and you..
and?
And? And nothing it is just that you know me and you we never really hung out you know? And I don't know why I keep talking
Look, lets play a game - I will look not creepy and you...
afraid I can't follow the prompt
it's entirely outside my area of expertise
guess I could make it all up
but that's not my thing today
thought I would be writing truth
and deep strongly held beliefs
but the prompt about news reporters
and grabbing for glory
doesn't sound like my kind of story
glad for the time limit
as it ticks away I think
at least I will not be verbose
and yet there is something
I really wanted to say about
praying for peace and going to war
and fighting terror with terror
that niggles at my gut...
The ground was cold and he could feel the pigeons surrounding his pack. He had half a sandwich in there and they tried in vain to pick it out from beneath the clothes.
The sun was rising and in the distance, he heard shopkeepers opening up as workers trudged through the streets on their way to work. He sat up and stretched with a yawn. He would have to find a shower. He had gone a good four days without one and the smell was starting to bother him. Maybe he would spring for a hostel. Clean sheets and running...
Spinning.
The tiny clockwork bird danced (for want of a better term) in a circle, twirling, singing out its jaunty song.
She sat, watching it sing out its tune, listening to the unique tinny sound of the music box - there was something about that music, that paticular brand, which brought her back to childhood. As a child she had watched the bird, watched it in her mother's palm.
Her mother had, briefly, convinced her that this was a real bird, that this was what happened to them when they were caught, tamed. That you could teach them these songs,...
"The McDonald's Arch Deluxe. Thee layers of disgusting terror."
The ad flashed by on the R31 bus, and I quickly completed it in my mind. Damn those people. As a vegan, I feel these ad execs should not be allowed to penetrate my air space.
Before I was strong-willed, such an attempt used to stand a chance at luring me from my modest, then-vegetarian diet.
Now, it had the chance of an earthworm in a swimming pool.
At loss of time and options, and very hungry for no apparent reason, however, I stepped into a nearby Burger King and ordered...
It seemed so simple. Walk in, say hi, grab a cappucino and go. I didn't realize just how complicated it would actually be. it started like any other run to Starbucks. I walked in the door and was greeted by the wired girl sitting by the door, in the exact same spot where i had seen her last. She told me that this was her 34th latte that morning. As usual, i edged away, as she continued to chatter. I walked up to the till and was also greeted by Allie, the clerk i saw every time i came by....