Annabelle Clarisse, was born blind but her disability never stopped her from visualising the world with her other senses. She could smell how spring was just around the corners as the flowers bloomed and how she could hear the chips of little hatchlings be born. Annabelle was never sad about how she was but instead she turned her negativity into something greater by become an artist. Her very first art piece was published in France,1943 where the she showed her audience how she saw the world with her own imagination. Her sense of touch helped her visualise he paintings by...
I was waiting for the elevator to come to the 17 floor
i just moved into a new apartment here in this hotel , i see the top of the elevator changing to the 13, 14, 15, 16 floor then the elevator was going up and skipped to 18 every time i click the button on the it would skip the floor i look through the hallway then the lights go out to small emergency light turn on and i was confessed I see the lights skip.
i walk down the hall and know on every door but it is...
Randy: Well Bob, I ain't seen any antelope, nor any deer. An' it sure don't look like there's any home on this here range!
Bob: [spits] Aww sheet Randy! Ah knew we shouldn't ev followed those stinky Injuns!
Randy: You got any Marlboro's there bwoy? Ah think ah need a smoke!
[Bob hands Randy a cigarrette]
Bob: [suddenly worried] Are we walking on a layer of kerosine?
[Randy lights his Zippo]
[-BOOM!!!- Stage Lights Full Glare]
-Stage Lights Off
Fate always gets the last laugh.
You expect one thing, another happens. You predict a storm, there's not a cloud in the sky. You bet on red, the ball lands on black.
Or worse, double-zero. Salt in the wound.
I hated it. Predictions, prognostications, fortunes even, for those inclined to call it that... they're supposed to be real. I always believed in that little bit of the supernatural, some little psionic impulse, letting you see fate, visualize fate, and perhaps even manipulate fate.
Only I could never get it right. Nothing ever rang true, even when I deliberately predicted the...
It sucked not to be able to find another vent in the city.
Vents.
Those things were the single most useful thing in the city to people like him. And didn't they know it. Which is why any available one was claimed before anyone else had a chance to glance at it.
Hot warm air constantly blew out of it, becoming a source of warmth to huddle towards.
Sure they were right in the middle of the streets, and occupying one drew weird stares from others, but after a while, it wasn't so bad. One learned to ignore their stares,...
"Vanquished."
"No, the word you're looking for is 'vanished.'"
"I always get those mixed up. I also get the words 'camel' and 'camera' mixed up, too."
"Don't fret, it gets easier with practice."
"Thanks for the stupor."
"I think you meant 'support."
"Oh, right."
"So, when do we get to stop pretending to be humans?"
The Potentate surveryed his creamsicle tower coolly.
It hadn't been his idea to build it, it was the idea of his latest duchess. It had been a stupid idea when she had begged for it, but, after she had begun to withhold her affections, he had relented.
It wasn't, you understand, that her pouting had worked on him mind, more that he had been advised by his cabinet that it would not do anything for his public image for him to behead another duchess.
Not that he fancied beheading this one, oh no, burning at the stake felt much more...
She felt like she was drowning. All around her there was water. Freezing. Churning. Flowing. Pulling her and dragging her in multiple directions. She tried to fight against it. Tried hard to kick out with her legs, pull the surface towards her with her arms. But no matter how hard she tried she didn't move, not in the direction that she wanted. It was like the water was a womb and she was trapped inside, a helpless foetus, attached.
As the oxygen in her lungs ran out, and her chest tightened so that she felt like her torso was close...
She stood on the crest of the largest sand dune, her hair streaming in the fierce breeze that had sprung up overnight. The view was stunning, overlooking dunes, common, sea, beach and surrounding cliffs, with the odd lighthouse visible on the distant coastline.
"I have had enough !" she screamed into the wind. "All the constant miserable bickering, the backbiting, the barbed comments, the selfishness, the grumbling under the breath and slamming of doors. I am not going to put up with it any more!" Having vented her anger and frustration, she walked slowly back home, wondering what she was...
My bestfriend Ruth Maina is from Kenya. She just moved here in Lawrence, Kansas with her brother Julius last year. She said, theres so many differences between Kenya and America. Keyna people are so nice and very welcoming people but some other people here in American just cant be nice or friendly. The other differences is the languages and the culture. Now, shes been here for a year she finally get to know more about kids here and their culture. She said, Kenya is the most beautiful place that she ever known, and she really wanna go back home. She...