I lost my grip on the wheel. Well, not really. In reality, I lost my grip on everything. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The world around me became a blur of distant activity and the noise around me sounded like a conversation floating through walls from the other end of a house. The world both started in motion and went completely still in the very same second. In that moment, walking past him in the hallway, I forgot my name. All I could remember was the image of him walking to his locker that burned itself into my mind....
The Moon would never be the same again. I don't know what happened. It's my job to research and study the Moon, but not even I can explain why the Moon was bright pink in the sky. All we saw was a flash and all we heard was a huge loud ZAP! A laser beam of some sort hit the Moon and now it's pink. The rest of my team of researchers and I can't explain it. It's just pink. It's probably the guy who shrunk the Moon. It would make sense. But what kind of science can make the...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. This was because I was twisting Arthur's nose instead of the lamp switch. However, this doesn't change the fact that the lamp wouldn't turn on.
"Ouch! Stop twisting my nose," Arthur said.
"Turn on the lamp," I said, twisting his nose.
"Not until you stop twisting my nose," he said. It sounded more like he said "twizdig by dose," which sounds hilarious and just made me want to twist his nose further.
"Never!" I shouted. I wasn't sure why I shouted never, but it felt like the right thing to shout. I could sense Arthur...
Spinning. Reams and reams of golden thread passed through her fingers as the spinning wheel conutinued on its endless spiral of revolutions. She had blisters now on all the fingers of her right hand. Blood seeped from under her nails and dulled the glow of the thread as it piled higher and higher on the floor beside her. She wondered what the point was but knew she couldn't stop. He would be back soon and then she would know her fate. Spinning. He said that if she got through all of it he would give her her freedom. She didn't...
"Give me the pelican!" John said. His gun, a very large and impressive gun if you are familiar with the ins and outs of guns, was pointed at Adam's chest.
"Okay," Adam said. He lifted the bird, which squawked and flapped its wings rapidly and held it out to John. "Take it," he said. John continued pointing the gun at Adam's chest, staring at the middle of his forehead. What was the game here? John had been chasing Adam across continents and time zones, on airplanes and zeppelins and double-decker buses, all to obtain this pelican. And now, on the...
The Potentate surveyed his creamsicle tower smoothly. "Good good," he said in his nasally voice. Rubbing his hands together with childish glee, the balding old man dove face first into the treat and began to lap it up as his guards looked on with a mixture of amusement and derision.
Fitzwilliam scowled as he surveyed the meager farms that bordered his own. One in particular, owned by one Aiden O'Dell, grew nothing but the wretched root. Apparently the folk here were simple enough to enjoy living on it.
And foolish enough to depend on a single crop for sustenance, he mused inwardly, pleased at himself for being so much better than the mere peasants.
He whistled as his convoy of carriages continued on the road to the port, its armed escort trudging along in silence, but ever watchful, in case of attack by the occasional band of ungrateful Irishmen. He...
"hello Maggie." Said mother I couldn't believe that she was trying to talk to me now. After all the things she put me through, over a cup of tea! "Yes Mother?" I responded in a malicious tone. "Are you ready to apologize?" She said as though she was expecting it now. What was up with her and the stupid customs that she brought from England. "Yes Mother, I'm sorry about your stupid cup of tea and your stupid customs that make no sense here in AMERICA." I screamed at her. Seconds later i felt the white hot sting of a...
As I sat on the edge of the meadow, I wondered if I'd been wasting my life. Yeah, I know, everybody thinks that. But not a day goes by when I don't leave projects undone, conversations unhad, stories untold.
And even now, there's so much I could do, but instead I stare at the horizon. I imagine butterflies, and wonder what simple lives they must have. No-- not simple, meaningless. Though I suppose the two are one and the same. After all, it's easy to get through a day when there's nothing you want to accomplish.
I lament the wasted...
"I can't write something like that" I said gruffly.
It was in the darkened room as I stared upon the sunset of the days of the world.
"What are you talking about?" said the 2nd person in the room.
"Me" I said
"Just go with the prompt" said Darrin, the 3rd person.
"Okay" I sighed.
"Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway, clutching a Tec-9 in each hand. She kicked the door open and let loose a barrage of bullets. A hail of gunfire, proceeded by a red mist of blood. She went...