Rip Van Winkle was a story that I never understood. How could a man that slept for forty years in a forest, aging all the while, just waltz back into town and have such and unremarkable story? Imagine having an absolutely perfect memory of the incidents, the setting and the culture of a time before this. I've always loved history, so I guess I'm just gushing out of a personal fetish, but if I was to lock myself away for years and come out of it, I would like to think that someone would really appreciate my particular knowledge.
Walking...
0900 hrs. Scott was seen leaving his fiance's home by a neighbour who looked up as he slammed the door hard and swore loudly.
0930 hrs. CCTV shows Scott going to pay for gas and coming out with a large bag of sweets, getting back into his car and driving off
1100 hrs. Scott's employer Mick Davis calls the fiancee Deborah McVey to ask if Scott is coming into work.
1300 hrs. Deborah has called the police. Scott is missing. He had been depressed after the tragedy with his family.
1500 hrs. Scotts car found with the driver's door open,...
I remember when I first saw you. You were walking alone in a park, it was a cool evening it was so late that even the night walkers were in a bed, There you were walking alone in the park, skin fair hair so blonde it was almost white. You wore nothing but a patient's gown. I walk up to you concerned then frightened, you my dearest lamb were covered in a crimson tint. Do you remeber what you asked me you said "help me"
~
In the little house, Brigid waited for the big lady to leave. She wanted peace, and the special sound of wind when no one was around. Kneeling people interrupted the woosh of air that made her forgetful. Kneeling people made her remember everything about praying and wanting things outside her little house. This was a House for Not Praying, for Not Wanting. But all these big people came. A miracle had happened here and she couldn't get rid of them. The gravel she laid out specially over what had been soft grass cut into their old knees and young knees...
The street seller heaped chocolate bits onto the thick slice of honey bread spread thick with butter. The boy's eyes sparkled watching the sprinkles flow, not a single one falling off the side of the bread. Hans knew the boy was special and each day would make him smile.
Jan ate his breakfast sitting on the bench by the river, watching the canalboats narrowly miss the larger vessels, he loves the noise and busyness of the city. Unaware he was constantly watched and followed. After wiping fingers on his jeans, he pulled out a sketch pad and rapidly drew the...
I found the ring on the bowling green. Slipped in my back pocket for later as I was in the middle of the tournament. Forgotten after the many rounds of congratulatory drinks. Left on the bedroom chair at night. Fallen out in the morning and rolled under the bedcovering to be found by a very suspicious wife the following day.
She didn't believe my explanation - that I had no idea where it had come from. Her catalogue of resentments opened and recited in a monologue, devoid of tone or expression. I packed my suitcase and went to stay with...
The summer was new, the grass was having that wet green quality when it is the first time in a long while the sun have reached it. It is happiness distilled.
They where moving in together, this was the first spring of the rest of their life. It was their love that made them set the mirror down on the grass and frolic in the spring.
Lifes sadness had not yet reached them, they did not know that this spring of love would turn into a winter of despair as they would argue the content of their lifes but somehow...
It was her masterpiece.
Jutting out of the water, everyone around could see what she'd created - what *she* had created.
Some, she knew, would say it was ugly. Some would say it was an eyesore. Some would say it was totally unnecessary, but she wouldn't let any of that bother her.
It was her creation, her mark on the world, and that was all that mattered.
She wouldn't live to see it, but as it happened, she was right. She left her mark, and as she'd ignored, everyone hated it. Everyone, by extension, hated *her*, and rarely did a...
Trivia. He'd always desired it. Kept and hoarded as much as he could. Sam Carson the youngest DOT COM Billionaire ever to spot, harness and reap a trend. Who knew that others liked (and would pay by micro-transaction) to keep their nostalgic memories in digital form. Still, his (actually quite vast) fortune hadn't stopped the throat cancer. Losing his persuasive voice was a hit that sent him into minimalism after that. Just the one wife. One mistress. All else he gave vicariously away. His tombstone was the final evidence of his loss of largesse. None of the LCD Virtually Real...
The lights fled all over the world; it seemed as if the whole was stars. Everything blended into the night. All people could was stare admire beauty beyond imagination. The night didn't seem like the night; it looked something else. Something different. Blues were covering uo the black. Black was covering up the blue. But everyone didn't notice, because beauty is all they could see. A lady stood in the balcony, which would be one of her only moments alone looking at the beauty. All she could do was, and admire she did. Her eyes seemded glow in astonishment, but...