The room was dark and hazey that morning. Im sure the night before that had been filled with booze, girls and college antics was the cause of the dry, drpessed feeling.
My proffessors voice piecrced like a knife in my skull as he said "You have six minutes to write a story. GO!" My hand gripped the chewed No. 2 pencil as I scramble to write everything about nothing.
My mind raced at the pace of a hungry slug as I stamered to think of somthing to write.
My writing skills are poor, I have limited ideas and my grammer...
An old sepia photo can be a bullet. It can tear through the lineup of neurons, neatly lined up like socks on a bed. It can make you aware that you are your latest incarnation. That you have been here before.
A mother and her child. Doesn't that child look familiar? Who remembers his own birth? Especially when it was 70 years ago? Today I am 27. I have been 27 many times now, projecting myself a year into the future so that I could live as 27 for a year, then my past self projecting himself a year into...
He was dressed in green. It made him stand out from all the other people at the beach in their reds and blues, their dark shorts and white vests.
He hadn't intended it as a fashion statement, the green shorts had just been the last ones in the store.
He looked around at the tan, well-sculptured bodies of everyone else on the beach and felt very out of place.
He was not a fan of the outdoors, he had never really even tried it but outside was varying and unpredictable and he just knew by instinct that he wouldn't like...
Have I ever told you the story of how I got expelled from high school? It all started with this asshole kid, Greg Helsprat. He wasn't called "Greg Helsprat" back then. Instead, we called him "Fistbump". He hated it, but it fitted. He used his fists a lot, but most of all he kind of looked like a fist. Anyway, Fistbump seemed to enjoy treating other kids like crap, but he always had something special planned for me. Maybe he hated funny people, maybe he had a crush on me, maybe because I coined "Fistbump". I never found out why....
Wine. Specifically, white. She hated white wine. She wanted red. The buzzing warm feeling was building. Building the way it had when she'd been inside the LHC doing maintenance. No one knew she'd been there. No one could explain how she'd survived. Then in a blink, she hadn't been. That was when she realised something Quantum had happened.
She perceived a reality where the waiter had gotten the wrong bottle from the shelf, picking red instead of the sought for white. He'd lose his job later that day for continued disobedience. His wife would commit suicide in four months, when...
"Listen," I whisper. "Hear the waves crash."
She listens, head cocked to one side. Her beautiful golden hair cascades down her face, a blonde waterfall.
"They're telling you stories," I tell her. "And you can hear them, if you listen."
You can almost hear her, the force it takes for her air-filled brain to concentrate, and listen. Now, she is perfectly poised, on the edge of the cliff. The waves break below her, screaming in her ear. It only takes a slight shove, and she topples off the edge. Even in death she is picture-perfect. For a few moments she...
The water was clear but her conscience was not.
Carla gazed into the crystal goblet's depths, the sparkling liquid reflecting the sunlight that filtered through the kitchen's old fashioned windows. It was one of the things that originally attracted them to the old, refurbished barn. The glass irregular, thicker at the bottom, letting the natural light unevenly through its depths, like the sun seen from underwater.
Carla smiled at the memory. They had been happier then. Happy and in love and carefree, despite the financial uncertainty of starting a new life together. But they had scrimped and saved for their...
The rush I felt skipping my way home, the breeze flowing through my hair.. there is nothing like it. There are so many things about being a child that simply have no analogue as an adult. Skipping carelessly down the middle of the street, climbing trees with no fear of falling, having no worries greater than what mom is making for dinner.
I long for those days. I miss the sparkle. I miss the sparkle and the freedom I didn't even realize I had. But now it's gone.
Is there a way to find sparkle once you grow up? Is...
"Josh, I'm leaving." She felt the tears burning behind her eyes as she spoke. A look of hurt, confusion, and concern began to etch lines into his forehead as he stood.
"What do you mean, you're leaving? Where are you going? Why?"
"You know why I'm leaving. I can't just stand by and watch everything from my old life die away while they try to rebel against the things your family are doing to them! I can't be here while my life is with them." The confusion and hurt vanished from Josh's face, but the concern remained, softening his grey...
She'd always come running when I called. That one girl I relied on throughout the toughest of times. I couldn't imagine a day without her. Beautiful tawny eyes that stared at me with loyal knowing. Full of wisdom and life. I'll never forget her.
The tousled mane of golden locks always framed her just right when I saw her. She looked delightful, so happy and bursting with youthful energy. Her smile lit up my world, my lonely, oh so lonely world.
There was no one else around me, but for her... My dearest friend. I look at her now and...