I'm with stupid. That's what his t-shirt says. the arrow points at me, because I always walk on his left. People read it and look at us and laugh. They don't know that he doesn't wear it for jokes and giggles. He means it. He always wears it when we go out together, which is only once a week. He allows me to do the weekly shopping with him. He makes the list but I have to carry it, because he always pushes the trolley.
Somewhere deep down I know he's a control freak and I should break away. Amy's...
"Come on, Brad," she sighed. "Can't you be serious once in your life?"
"Maybe," he said. "We may not know for sure until I'm dead, though."
"This is really important," she told him. "We have to defuse this nuclear bomb before the silo doors open and Dr. Malevolence's computer virus launches it and starts World War III."
"You know, I'm not totally convinced," Brad argued. "How many viruses work perfectly when they're released? Writing viruses is hard, you know. Even evolution needs to try billions of times to get it right."
"You really want to risk the fate of the...
I retire to a grotto chiseled in a gnarled knot of stone on the continent's edge. The continent is irrelevant. And the stone and grotto, for that matter. Because when the ocean rises, no one moans but me. And the universe is nothing if not a bell for suffering. Ding dong, ding dong.
The idea is to create a false memory. Get a pretty model, blur the edges, overexpose the film. You can also create that overexposure effect digitally. Have her smiling, playing. Give her something that evokes childhood. Red balloon. No, we don't want to be cliche. Green balloon. And make sure there's an overriding color scheme. Green. We don't see a background - nothing but light on the horizon. This is memory, and memory is supposed to consist of overreliance on symbols, strong images, single focal points. That was the summer when...
We hire the model. She's angry and unhappy the...
She sat in her car, staring up at the Motel 6. After begging her boss to let her off early, she almost wished he would have said no. If her boss knew what she was up to, he probably would have.
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered to herself, staring at the motel key Steve gave to her.
But she also knew she wanted to be. The same battle she has every Sunday night at about nine thirty. It's always the same. Leave work two hours early, come spend time with Steve. It's become as easy as blinking; automatic, and...
The shapes were obstructing my view. I couldn't even look out the front window of the car for the shapes. i was taught what a circle, square and rectangle were when I was a small child, but now I've forgotten. I've forgotten it all. Nothing remains from preschool, not even the color blurred crayon drawings from Mrs. Couch's class. The only sign I know is peace. If only peace could get me from point a to point b. If only I could find my way through the traffic that way. Little speck of dust look circular, but they aren't they...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It had been an hour since the torrential downpour started. It was only a matter of time before she realized that she would not make it to her own wedding and so she closed her eyes and concentrated very hard. Blood began to trickle from her delicate nose, sullying her piercing white make-up. As so, crows' feet around her eyes displayed her delicate skin underneath. The rain started to lighten gradually and the street seemed to get brighter second by second, inch by inch. The rain...
The wind is picking up outside. It's unsesnoabley warm. The announcer on the television rattles off a list of counties that are under the warning. Leaves scuttle along the patio outside the window. There is no fear, just curiosity, a little confusion. People step outside to gander at the sky. The voice on the tube implores us to take cover, yet we continue to look out the windows. Thunder rumbles in the distance. People sit on the swing set, passing cigarettes and smiling. It is always calmest, right at this
I jumped.
Then I found mysef flying.
Yellow street lamps weaved below me.
They said that yellow represented caalm and the ability to fly signified that I was rising above my problems.
But what do they know?
Their 'experience' came from reading books. Mine came from real life, from living with the monsters in my head. Dark, shapeless freaks clawing at the psyche, dripping poison into every cell and stem, clawing relentlessly at my skull.
I tried to cut them out, I tried to drink them t sleep but they wouldn't stay quiet for long.
Therapy! What a joke. Seeing...
The city was empty. The skyscrapers during the day looked powerful and full of promise. At night, they just looked like pieces of art. The hustle and bustle of New York was beginning to bug me, for the first time ever. I was going to walk far, but I'd see someone. So I stayed in my quiet neighborhood, passing by restaurants and apartment buildings. "Being alone was possibly the worst thing that has ever happened to me." I thought to myself. From then on, that's all I could think about. That sentence rang in my head like a dinner bell....