Giving in WASN'T an option. I absolutely had to make it out of this place alive. Now, I know that no one gets through high school unscathed, but I had been observing the teenage life long enough to learn a few things. Number one: Teenagers are brutal. They will stop at nothing to ensure that they hold a place at the very top of the popularity ladder. They will back stab, manipulate, or talk their way in or out of any situation. Number two: When it comes to survival, anything goes. That's right, anything. If you need a 80% to...
They gathered in the woods. There were seven of them, rangers all. Alifer the Bold arrived first, his great yew bow across his right shoulder. Next came Hurq, the half-orc and Teriel the elf. Three others followed, the human couple Gawin and Meledere, and the half-elf Siri. Lastly, Helena, wisest of them all, arrived with her daughter Adori.
"It is time," Helena said after a moment's silence. "The Goblin King has gathered his armies and readies them to conquer the lands of Gaules." She glanced around at her companions. "We must all prepare," she said. "We must go to our...
She looked in the mirror and thought about that one guy. The guy who always smiled her way. The only person every to admire her features. Was there not a single way to ask him? ask him that one simple question? DOES HE LOVE ME!!!! the day had come...
She was ready.
Her entrance was stunning; a slight catwalk into the classroom led by a swift movement of removing her bag's shoulder strap. She waltzed between the desk and made her way to the front of the room. She double checked herself and a burst of confidence ran through her....
In these parts, they could not afford trains. Instead, they strapped the Jews and leftists and gypsies and cripples and social undesirables onto sleds on the back of a Volkswagen and hauled them to the camp, which was really a slapdash cardboard affair. The guards were lazy and disinterested. They really didn't see a point in the whole thing, but they did their jobs nevertheless, smoking cigarettes with the more gregarious prisoners. They resented the prisoners and beat them - After all, they thought, why should I have to waste my life standing around guarding these people that the Reich...
Looking out across the fields, Hannah smiled to herself. She had never felt more of a success, than she did right now. She almost wanted to laugh in the faces of the people who had told her she couldn't do it. All the ones who had sneered and ridiculed her dreams. Where were they now? Still back in the City, with their boring lives; working nine 'til five just to pay the bills; stuck in the drudgery of modern living.
Hannah was well free of all of that. Not ever twelve months ago, she had been one of them. High-flying...
I have anxiety issues okay? I swear every time I come here its the same goddamn thing. All I need is to walk, so I approach the edge and give myself a minuscule pep-talk. "You can do it George, just a couple of steps", every day its the same thing and everyday.. I chicken out. I know, I know, ha.ha. very funny but this is a serious problem! How am I supposed to go anywhere in my short life when I literally can't go anywhere. Every time I approach that curb, the cars seeming to fly by, horns honking and...
The conversation lasted two words: Alright? ...Yeah
It wasn't groundbreaking, it wasn't revolutionary, it wasn't even poetry, but it was all they needed to say.
They had been the best of friends once, closer than brothers. George had had his own room at Jack's house, Jack had had his own shelf in George's fridge. But somewhere along the way, they had lost that.
Was it because Lissy, George's ex-girlfriend had hated Jack, was it because of the fact that Jack went off to uni while George stayed in their hometown, or had it merely been because of the fact that...
We are there. We are in the shadows, in the gaps, in the spaces between words. We are in every moment where you pull away, where discretion replaces narrative, we are there.
We are there in the knowledge that you do not write all things that happen, we are there, waiting in the wings, filling in the gaps, in the spaces.
You did not write us - you never write us, nobody writes us (and who would read us, who would read every banal moment, every second, what soul could stand the painful inevitability of one moment following the next...
"But I like green."
"You would. Green is a very you colour." She waved her hand, apparently indicating his shirt. "You look good in green."
He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Do I?"
She ignored it, ignored her cheeks going pink - there was no point to this line of conversation, she was not going to think about it.
Except that he did look good in green, very good. Something about dark hair and dark green and those eyes -
"I just don't think green is a good colour for a rug. I don't think it'll go in the living room....
Chopin and nature. Like a French-pressed cup of coffee and Swiss chocolate.
But was it nature that inspired this feast for the eyes? How did Chopin filter out the noise to create his masterpiece? Must I do the same?
I switch to Vivaldi, an upbeat piece known for it's nature qualities. The Four Seasons. Ahh...that's perfect. I sink into the hammock, the soft southern breeze cooling my hair as I rock gently back and forth. Lulled to sleep by a dead guy...
I wake up. This is all wrong. This can't be right. I'm missing something...
The song is over,...