In retrospect Philip probably shouldn't have put the bologna in the microwave. But Philip was 32 years old. He still had a childish sense of curiosity about the world. And he wondered what would happen.
For the last month Patty had been bringing her dog to work. A small ratty terrier named Bongo.
It barked at Philip every time he walked by Patty's desk. Not a "Let's play" bark either. More like a "Get the fuck away from Patty" kind of bark. Like he was even interested in Patty, a roundish red head with glasses with an annoying whistle...
The planet of Book was under constant threat of an enormous finger coming down upon it and crushing countless citizens of the terrorized planet. For years, everybody had been safe--they sat on a shelf, undisturbed for nearly three years--but because of a recent movie adaptation of the story contained within, a new-found popularity forced them to face the fact that they would no longer be safe.
The leader of Book, an em-dashing senior who often punctuated his sentences by pounding his fist on the podium from where he spoke, called an emergency meeting of the greatest minds to come up...
The wolf had finally lost her, but she had lost the basket of goodies for her grandmother, and the old woman only had until sunset before she would pass away.
Red got up and dashed through the shining, wet streets, knocking into people without pardoning herself all the way, desperate to get her hands on something, anything, that she could bring to her grandmother.
Then she saw it: Me Hing Shao Pun: the Wolf's Garden, a restaurant that had opened up in the house her grandmother had been born in. The wood frame exterior was dark, a rusted loudspeaker warbled...
I dream of beautiful things, of sunshine, of laughter, I dream of family. These dreams always manage to find their way into my pen as I write and turn themselves into words on the page. The sharp contrast of the thick, smooth, black ink on the creamy, soft pages makes a perfect place to display all of the beautiful words. Each of the letters are shaped perfectly round and as I read, they serve another purpose. As I read, they become paintbrushes and skilled artists as they begin to paint stunning pictures in my mind. They paint pictures of a...
100 feet away. I can see the end. I have been searching, wandering, climbing, stumbling, falling into the "infinite abyss", always somehow with an inner drive getting back to my feet. Days, weeks, months, stranded, isolated, all alone. Me and my thoughts. My fears. but I can't give up. What if I do? how will I ever know.? So through the blazing sun, torrential downpours, the sub-zero temperatures, sheltering myself with man-made huts, I pushed on. and now 100 more feet. Don't give up now! No...don't!
She pulled her red gown high over her head, trying to shield herself from the oncoming terror, but to no avail. The sheer vivid colour of the gown made her stand out from the bustling crowds, no matter how much she tried to huddle into the dank doorway of the closed shop.
"Please let me in," She whispered, scratching desperately on the chipped wooden panelling, "please." Tears started to fall down her cheeks as she heard the heavy footsteps of her pursuers getting closer and closer, the people around her seeming not to notice her distress.
Suddenly the door creaked...
Some people think there is a trick to self-hypnosis. There isn't. The whole thing is a trick. You need to want to be hypnotized, let yourself be hypnotized. But you can't want it so much that you are unable to be hypnotized. It's like living in a zen koan.
There are many different ways of hypnotizing yourself. Some people can meditate themselves into a trance. Some people use drugs. But most people use recordings. And for many people, self-hypnosis works because they can hear their own voice, it works better than a stranger's. Your own voice, some comfortable and common,...
You know that sound of large brass bells ringing in your ears? That ring that some people think is just jolly fine and dandy? Well, to some other people, the sound of those bells sounds rich, deep, and hollow. It resonates in the hollow parts of someone's heart. The places in their heart that have been turned into huge, gaping voids, created by heartless words and broken promises. Sure, once in awhile someone will find something else to fill in those voids, turning the sound of ringing bells back into the lovely, joyful sound it once was. But other times,...
Francis ran as fast as he could. A flock of partridges was chasing him. "I must reach the oodles of gold first." He thought to himself as he ran. There it was! Oodles of gold lay over the hill. But he could tell that if he kept running he'd never beat them. So he rolled down the hill. He picked up in speed as he rolled towards the oodles of gold. He knew he'd reach it first. The partridges stopped at the top of the hill and groaned. They had lost. Francis danced around in the oodles of gold. "I'm...
"I think my feet are shrinking," she muttered, looking up at where she rested her soles against the wall. She laid on her back on the dark green couch, looking up at the ceiling, twisting a lock of her brown hair between the fingers of her right hand. Sunlight stealing in through the window struck the glass of water on the coffee table, casting a dancing reflection up onto the ceiling.
He looked up from his crossword as he sat in the rocking chair next to the couch. "They look the same to me."
"My shoes are too big." The...