Dispossessed
All he had to his name was this park bench, and not even that.
As he sat and gazed off into the distance, he contemplated his fate. He'd lost his job, then his home, then his family. Nothing was left to him, not even his body that lay six feet under rotting in a pauper's grave. His spirit sat on the bench that the shelter had dedicated to his memory. Suicide had not ended his suffering. Dispossessed of everything he had held dear, he contemplated getting his life back.
His ex-wife stood looking at the bench, at his name...
The constant clicking of the camera's shutter was the only sound in the studio for a full fifteen seconds until the photographer sighed in frustration and lowered the Nikon. "Honey, you're not making this easy on me. I need more steam, more heat, more 'you know you want what I'm selling' attitude."
Tugging at the unbuttoned plaid shirt that had been rolled up and tied just below her breasts, the woman in front of the camera tipped back the cowboy hat she was wearing and blew at an errant strand of hair that had fallen across her brow. "What exactly...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. Or were his clothes pounding and his heart soaking wet? That's the great mystery surrounding the untimely death of Clive Anthony Cliveanthony.
We know that he did run into the room, based upon the velocity of wind against his person and tread marks on the carpet from his sandals. And yet, by the time his body was discovered, the clothes were dry and the heart was definitely not pounding. His liver was pounding, but not his heart. His heart just sat there with a vacant expression, like...
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...
The maple leaves will change and fall with a certain grace – November will begin. The world outside my window will be shades of red and gold. Snow, a few days later, gracing the last few leaves on the branches. My mind will wander to that one autumn, the last time I ever saw that face. The muscular arms without tattoos; brown hair, blue eyes. It was my birthday. The autumn before that I spent the night at his downtown apartment. Same brown hair and blue eyes, tattoo-less arms. Genuine smile and honest words. This autumn will not be like...
All Maggie wanted was to get home and curl up with Roger and a cup of tea. Seemingly just as frustrated as she was, the strangely cat-like Roger seemed to hiss from his carrier. Maggie just groaned.
Honestly, how much work could it possibly be to ensure the stuffed animals, flower seeds, scarves, and ceramic knick-knacks she'd purchased for the family didn't contain bombs of any kind?! Truly, Maggie just wondered if they were seeing how far they could push a frazzled looking woman with glasses and a dog carrier. How intimidating could she possibly look? "I never even got...
It's midnight and we're sitting on the roof and your hand is on my knee and I'm leaning my head on your shoulder and you're saying something about the stars, about how bright they are, about how they look the same on the other side of the world, something cliche like that. But they don't, do that? I hear a door slam from somewhere inside and I can feel you flinch. You're not supposed to be here, I guess. You think I've got someone else, but I don't. He broke up with me yesterday morning, on the front lawn as...
Once he had left it because absolutely clear that I missed him. Before he had left it wasnt so clear. Not at all. In fact, I had fully expected to breathe a sigh of relief once the door closed and I never had to look at his face again. Once it actually happened it was different. Much different.
It made no sence. Well, maybe it did. I had never been very nice. To him, I mean. The times I had snapped could be counted on my fingers. One two three four five six...
He hadn't left any of those times....
He set the bowl before her. Watched her lick up the milk, drops sticking to the whiskers, few stains already down her soft black velvet catsuit.
Bob had never imagined getting into the cat scene until that fateful day outside the store where he'd gone to buy his usual six bars of chocolate, four multibags of potato chips and a crate of beer.
Outside he noticed an attractive young man with long fair hair holding two leads, each one had a beautiful girl at the end, dressed as cats.
Bob dropped his bags of shopping in surprise and never bothered...
I climbed the building step by step, not running, only tip-toeing, afraid to be heard. No one knew I was here, and no one will ever know. I will leave no trace.
I reach the roof, opening the door to a world of fresh air and new possibilities. I took one step and imagined what people may have ventured up here.
The newly met couple. The boy and girl hardly know each other, yet trust each other with everything they have. They don't have long, he leaves to go home in two weeks time and she has to go back...