He ran in the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. A man was sitting across the room in a fat leather chair, the kind you see CEOs with. His back to the sopping boy.
The boy stood panting with his back against the door, his eyes closed and his head tilted at the ceiling. "S-sorry. I ran into some trouble on the way here."
With every drop of water that landed on his carpet the man cringed. He could hear it ruining the material. He took a deep breath, "Please, have a seat."
With complete disregard for...
Karrie had never worn white in her life. Not the day of her first communion, not even when she'd dressed as a ghost that one Halloween, but yet here she was...
What the hell had she been thinking getting involved with Ken? Really, Ken- like the doll. He wasn't her type at all. He loved tradition and tuxedos and classic rock, while she adored zombies and punk. And him, of course. What had she been thinking?
From the moment she met him, everything about him irritated her. His pigheadedness, his obnoxious sense of humor, his conservative dress. He could be...
"Don't you realize you can make a cake WITHOUT any the products of my femininity?" asked the chicken. She fluffed her feathers defiantly, shouting over the cars that zoomed mere inches from where she had taken her stance. "That is that last time anyone takes my eggs! I will NOT provide my children for your tasty treats!" She glared at the little girl.
Darla stared at the hefty bird. She adjusted her apron, dusting off some flour with one gloved hand. "I needed eggs for my mother's birthday cake!" she protested. Darting a glance at the heavy traffic, she...
Ridiculous. He had never been so ill-treated in his whole life. To think that such an imbecilic, poorly-dressed, snivel-nosed shit could have the AUDACITY to pour a saintly bordeaux all over his wife put such beet red hues into his cheeks as to suggest asphyxiation, or potential heart failure.
The fat man shook, with an angry tectonic rumble, and the whole room seemed to hold slack for his reaction, volatile elements stirring with life...
"What in the hell do you THINK you ARE DOING!??" the fat fuck rumbles. His gold watch chain jangles with the bulbous rolling of his obese...
The gate closed behind them. The door opened in front of them. The ceiling opened above them. The floor opened beneath them. They all fell for what felt like hours, and when they landed, it wasn't with a concussive thump, but a soft, gentle bounce. They had landed in a huge pile of foam and packing material.
They took a moment to get their bearings. They were at least twenty feel below where they originally stood. They were trapped in a rectangular hole approximately ten by six feet. They didn't find any doors or openings.
They began to panic. They...
"Write," she instructed.
So he did. He wrote. He wrote of many things, and when he was done, he presented the neatly bound typewritten pages to her. She didn't even look at them.
"Write more."
He wrote more. He wrote of how he felt when the sun in the afternoon cast dappled lines across the floor. He wrote about prison bars and he wrote about prison food. He wrote about her, and how her dark hair was short and clipped above her ears. He wrote about how her brown eyes pierced his soul and tore him apart and all he...
"Travel light, but take everything with you."
That was all the hastily scribbled note said. Now here I was, driving down the back roads of southeast Georgia, my eyes constantly darting to the rearview mirror, knowing someone - anyone - could be trailing me. What the hell had Erick gotten us into now? I wondered as I drove quickly, dust kicked up behind me as I sped toward the cabin. It was our agreed-upon meeting place in case trouble showed up.
My hands gripped the wheel tighter. Dammit! I swore to myself. I was happy, going to be married in...
One boy changed her life.
It was one of those things that you only realise in hindsight, but it was true. Yet, it wasn't really about the boy. He didn't change her life in a romantic 'you are my soul mate' way. They had kissed that night, but that was more like a signature at the end of a deal - the deal that that was the day that her whole life changed.
Before that moment that he came through the crowd and took her hand and led her back onto the dance floor, she had spent years feeling rejected,...
You took another picture of yourself today. It doesn't look much different than yesterday's. Or last week's. But as you flip back through the months and years, the difference is startling. The difference is harrowing.
You create an animated gif of every daily image of yourself captured over the last two years. A contemporary Dorian Gray morphs on your screen. The last image from today loops to the first image from two years ago. That moment, that blink of time, cracks your skull like a baseball bat.
You're out.
I saw a girl press her cheek into the moldy stone column. Her arms gripped the sides in a hug. Her eyes were closed and she smiled.
I wanted to take a picture of her but then her friend arrived, a girl about her age. They were both older teens. They were American, with spots on their foreheads and chins, hair streaked with pink and blue, pale skin, and wide eyes. They giggled as the first girl, a blonde in a pink jumper kept hugging the column and hamming it up for her friend who took pictures.
I remember when...