She could listen all day. The raspy, melancholy vocals of the demo tape was not without flaws, but in this moment, perfectly delectable. Her own voice was breathtaking to her; after all, how often did she experience a conversational sing-a-long with herself? The sound was a breath of fresh air, nothing she inhale here, in the muggy city, at her perfunctory job, or with her otherwise dull life.
This was the sound of butterflies.
Three pigeons landed near a sleeping homeless person, huddled up in the alcove of a building along 4th Street. The biggest pigeon, Paul, strutted by the slumbering figure as Marta, the medium-sized pigeon, walked by pretending not to see.
Paul said, "Marta, how can you just ignore this man? If I recall, you were homeless once, too."
Marta stopped to peck aimlessly at a crumb of bagel on the street.
The third pigeon, Gideon, was looking across the street at the bustling bakery, hoping to spot somebody dropping a morsel of bread or muffin, preferably banana-nut, because it was his...
Marie Antoinette sat in the tub, eating chocolate truffles and drinking champagne. Her ruffled leggings lay in a heap on the floor. She thought as she looked out the window that she was ever the perfect Mademoiselle. She gazed out onto the misty countryside, daydreaming. Although, what could she dream about? She was living her dream. She took another bite of chocolate and smiled.
Just then, her little sister's pink range rover came trundling into the driveway, reminding her that it was 2015 and she was not in France. She would not marry her prince, because princes don't exist nowadays....
A game. Thats what i thought it was, thats what my father told me it was. I was a child during world war II, a jewish child. My father took us to the station to catch the train towards the camp. He told me it was an excursion. WHen we git to the camo we were seperated from mum. The uniformed men spil us in to men and women. We were taken to a store room that was turned into a bunker, when a soldier walked in. He needed a translater to translate the soldiers commands to italian as most...
She had read somewhere that there were lands beneath the seas, that it was where wishes hid themselves ("Fishes, you mean fishes."), that is was where dreams lived, that it was where pearls of happiness lived.
Pearls were the perfect metaphor; beauty and perfection, born of irritation. Born of an age of suffering.
They had stopped believing in mythical lands that lived beneath the waves, and so she stopped talking about them - there was a look in their eyes that she remembered, the same look her mother had been given.
Mother had tried to take her to the land...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
"He's coming to get me!" Keri shouted, "Zachary's coming to get me!"
Keri wanted nothing more than to leave her life in New York and move South to be with Zachary.They dated briefly, he proposed, she said no, and that was it. It wasn't just that she said no, he wasn't entirely serious and she was only 18.
Keri married Jack a few days before her 25th birthday, and she was completely in love with him. She never forgot Zachary, even on their wedding day. Zachary, or Zak as she called him, was her...
Centuries collide and we find Marie Antoinette, victim of the Today Show questions. Cue Katie Couric:
"Marie, why couldn't you give your husband a son?"
"Well, Katie, "
"No Marie! Why?"
"Katie,"
"MARIE."
"Madame Couric"
"WHO is Madame Couric? Call me Katie, now answer the question, better question, though, explain your infamous 'let them eat cake' phrase."
"..cake, hmm, cake...let them eat cake, boy these studio lights are dreadfully hot, my white face is dripping and this foot-tall wig is absolutely scorching my head."
"MS. ANTOINETTE!"
"hmm? Oh yes, let them eat cake..well"
"Get her out of here Matt. Next...
Christmas morning. It was always something excting and special when I was growing up. There would be a grand Christmas tree set up in the corner, sparkling with the many cheerful lights, music playing softly in the background, and the smell of fresh holiday baking floating in the air. As kids, we would always sleep underneath the dinning room table on that night before Christmas. Well, sleep may not be the right term, we were usually much too excited to close our eyes. In the morning at 7:30 sharp, we would rouse my parents out of bed and gather around...
She always eats oranges in the morning. Awake at 6.30 and out at once to the fruit stall below her window. The sound of the traders' early morning banter is hazy in the grey veil of October dawn and the lines of fruit like a crown of brightly coloured gems awaiting her selection. Two precious oranges in a brown paper bag and back to her third storey apartment. When she slices into the dimpled skin of the orange its juices swell onto the kitchen counter and onto her pale fingers. Her hands are laced with the citrus scent for all...
Tears formed in Hazel Grace's eyes as Augustus lifted her chin and asked, "Okay?"
Hazel managed to get a sound out of her quivering voice and shakily said, "Okay."
(Prompt is 'the conversation lasted two words')