I can still see the shadow of the hooded unknown, swaying back and forth whilst wielding a gun. The fumes of gun power turn into a haze, accumulating each time they pull the trigger. The blast of the gun temporarily makes my ear deaf and the sound of shots reverberate each time. the taste of smoke is bitter with the metallic taste of blood flowing out of my bitten cheek mixing in concoction. Fragments of glass scatter among the concrete floor of the prison, glass webs hanging on from the edge of the window frame, the only thing still intact...
As I look into the sky, the moon rises from its slumber showing its beauty in the night sky. The stars sit close to the moon, closer than before. As the lights in all the houses turn off and the children hop into bed, I see a star. A start like no other. Speeding like lighting towards the moon. I question myself, 'is it a star?'. The 'star' hits the moon spinning it off track. I look down at the wharf, the water surrounding the land has frozen. The tides no longer come crashing in. I stand and stare at...
Time.
Time is everything. It allows you to understand what happened to you, and why.
In a minute, two, three. She understood.
She understood more with each minute than the minute before.
They were separated because it was too dangerous for him to stay. She was protecting him, she was doing the right thing. Or at least, she was trying to convince herself that it was the right thing to do.
Time. She thinks about all these years they spent together ; All of these things they accomplished.
And she felt pride in her sadness.
They were finally together, but...
Too saccharine. Too weepy. No dice.
I lost my grip on the wheel. It had happened before, but it wasn't nearly as embarrassing as now. I had just left P.E. with a friend of mine, rolling up the steep hill from the gym toward the vocational building. As usual, I made my slow way up that hill, my forearms and biceps flexing as I pushed my wheelchair, struggling but too proud to ask for help.
Then, again as usual, I approached the next decline, a cement hill with a white awning over it. With a grin, I pushed down and let go. As usual. But, then...
I still washed his shirt. There was only his plaid shirt, because it was what he'd worn. But I still washed it. My son disappeared a few years ago. They found his body by the lake. He was wearing that old plaid shirt. The rest of his clothes I gave to my nephew, about his size. But that plaid short...I'd never give that to anyone. It was his, it was all I had left. The plaid shirt. His room was in perfect condition, but it didn't seem right. But his shirt in my soft-from-washing-so-many-dishes hands. It felt like everything was...
"Avery," she said, eyes flashing, "Avery, Avery."
I held the snake in my hands. "I need to take care of it. It's lonely."
"Animals belong in the outdoors, not in kindergarten."
"Then I belong in the outdoors, too!"
"Avery, if you continue this for one moment longer –"
"Don't worry," I whispered, almost to myself. "Flora will get you. Flora will get you."
She came a few minutes later, rage flickering on and off in her pale face. "What's all this?"
Miss Duncan glared. "Your sister brought a snake into a kindergarten classroom."
"What the bloody –"
"Flora!" I yelped....
Holy crap, this guy is annoying me again. I mean Jesus Christ, what does he want now?
He always bugs me, hits my head and walks right behind me. It seems no matter where I go, he is there waiting.
Then, when I need him, he can't be found. He disappears for what appears to be hours on end, only to take his pants off and then call for me.
What am I? A servant? I don't fetch things like beer. I don't fold clothes.
Fuck man, I'm cat.
I keep the creases in the clothes nice by laying on...
the colours were too bright and he couldn't make out what the picture was. Joe liked to go the the gallery on a Thursday night because they opened late and he could visit there after finishing his stint as a bike courier.He squinted at the painting in the modern art section and wondered if his bid to seem interesting by going to an art gallery would ever pay off. He spotted a sad- looking girl standing by the darkened window and debated what his opening gambit should be, most of the things he had tried on his previous visits had...
"I really do hate these balloons," she said as she lay on the ground, trying to decide whether she should use the pink and purple as a theme for her rooftop party later that evening. She hadn't even wanted to throw a party in the first place. Her friends came up with the idea, and like always, Kiersten was pressured into organizing it all. She got up and walked around the roof, carefully checking the tables she had set up earlier. She had a knack for organizing and making things look nice. And although she was great at it, she...