There is nothing good about Monday. I feel bad every time I think that, because then I realize, "Well, I could be dead, or in Cleveland, and then my Monday would be much worse." And then I feel bad for making fun of Cleveland in my head, because I actually liked it the one time I went there.
Even though I don't do much here, it's hard to escape the native smugness that comes with being from New York City. It is all going on here. The thing is, I don't want to do most of it. I'm pretty internal,...
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...
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,...
Portraits lined the hallway. No matter where you stood, it seemed like the eyes were following you, staring at you in disdain. Freddy didn't care for the effect, so he hurried his way through the hall to the sitting room.
A large statue stood in the center of the room. The white marble figure resembled a famous historical figure, but Freddy couldn't quite place just which one--perhaps Ben Franklin. Ben Franklin 1.0, to be exact. Ben Franklin 1.2 was currently going through some new, more rigorous testing because Baron Von Bonn's steambot army made short work of the original. Luckily,...
Bobby crossed the street at precisely 11:15 that night, his umbrella head firmly in hand to keep the snow off his young head. He'd decided earlier that night he had to run away from home, had to get away from the toxicity before it killed him. His parents were insane, always yelling and throwing things, hitting each other.
Bobby crossed the street at precisely 11:15 that night. At the exact same time the car came speeding down the street, careening crazily through the snow and ice. The vehicle hit the twelve-year-old head on. Luckily for the boy, the impact instantly...
The realization crept over me. My drugs are gone and my friends are few. How very insignificant we all are. Myself especially, I suppose.
He said I didn't deserve pleasure, in so many words. I refuse to agree with that. Everyone deserves pleasure, most especially those who are in such pain.
So now I am left to wonder where I will find relief. The day draws ever closer to my imminent withdrawal, and this one will be severe, of this much I am sure. This little stint has been, by far, the most consistent usage coupled with the most pure...
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...
Ridiculous.
No, it is, it is actually ridiculous.
I haven't thought about him in months, haven't thought about him like that in years (...well, other than the odd hiccup, but I'm only human)
It is his birthday today. I don't even know how old he is.
I don't know if I care. I don't know if I should care.
I loved him - thought I loved him (did I ever anything-else him?) - for years. Lived with him for years. Wanted him, desperately, for years.
He never wanted me.
Loving someone who doesn't love you - never will - is...
"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...
I stood in a Bollywood-style costume, obediently serving drinks to the guests at the Thomas' party tonight. It was a big one; "everyone who's anyone is here," in the words of Mrs. Thomas.
"A champagne, please," a man probably two years older than I said quietly. I looked up and saw piercing blue eyes and defined cheekbones - this guy was fine. Not like it'd ever matter, the Thomas' would never let their best teen servant date, but he was hot.
"Coming right up," I mumbled, seeming to have lost my confidence. I poured too much and spilled the extremely...