I slowly push myself up from the place I lay crumpled on the ground. My head is throbbing and I can't quite think of why I'm here. Or where here is. I check myself over. There is a little blood seeping from a cut on my head but everything seems to be in order so I do the only thing I can think of to do. I walk. I walk and walk until my legs are sore but still nothing in this town seems familiar. I sink to my knees against the brick wall of a bakery and allow myself...
"Dragonflies are good luck," his grandmother used to say. "They are fairies' horses. Their wings spread wishes and wonder."
He remembered that and not much else about her. They would sit in the grass by the shore of the lake. He used to spend three weeks every summer out at his grandparents house. They picked blueberries and chopped wood, made cookies and walked in the woods.
He was an adult now. They were long dead.
His daughter stood in front of him, frowning, hands onm hips. "That's not true, daddy. Dragonflies are dragonflies, not horses. And fairies don't exist."
He...
"The flight was agonizingly long, and that was the positive part of the experience.We had reserved a cab a week before, because we didn't want to drive out there and then try to find parking."
"I could have found a spot."
"Ignore him, he's convinced he a dowsing rod of available parking. Anyway, we had made a reservation for six a.m. At a quarter to seven a car screams to a stop in the driveway. You can still see the skidmarks. We were so angry."
"You were angry. I never even wanted to go."
"I told you to ignore him....
I am spinning out of control and I love it. I want to hear it break, to show them that I don't have to fit into their mold. I hurl the glass at the wall in front of me and it shatters, sending little, sparkling shards across the floor with a pretty, extremely satisfing tinkling sound. In a daze, I sit there and stare at the glass on the floor. My chest feels light and my head is spinning. I am free to be me. To live my own life, my own way. The can tell me where to live,...
Today, I sat next to a bog of pond. Water was at the brim and shutters at the cold wind. the sky grew gray and the wind quickened from a breeze to gust of pure power. the trees started to bend and wave in ways unimaginable. A clap of thunder broke the sound of the wind. tThen it started to rain, big fat droplets of the stuff, Fell with such strenght it pound the pond to it's breaking point.
The contours of her form were clear under the light shining through my window. She was laying there nude on my couch as I drew her. My eyes, flicking back and forth from the paper to her. My hand, gliding wildly across the paper in motions similar to a snake whipping it's way across a desert. I had asked her to model for me. Not because I have a crush on her. Not because I'm trying to date her. But because her body is so gorgeous. It flows with every move she makes, twisting and bending and flowing. She lays...
Magic. We've all heard the word before but, what does it mean? What does it really do? Is it just the stuff in fairytales that makes the glass slipper fit? That makes Prince Charming sweep her off her feet? Or could it be more... Listener, the answer to this question is simple, yet complicated. Yes. Magic is so many things. Magic is the times when we stop frowning at the clouds outside, fling open the door, and dance in the rain. Magic is the smile on the face of a little girl, and Magic is found in the sight of...
No one else stood up when the two elderly ladies got on the bus, so Bear had to provide the example and offered them his seat. He stood up as they approached and made the giving up my seat gesture with his arm. The one lady smiled and him. He watched the smile curdle into an expression of confusion and followed her sightline to see some teenager had taken his seat.
"Hey," Bear said, trying to sound tough and imposing. "You think I stood up for you? I was letting these ladies have those seats."
The teenager ignored him, scrolled...
Words like knives, thrown back and forth across the room, like a death-defying circus act.
Husband and wife tossing sharp insults, from the couch to the kitchen doorway. Neither landing anything deep, glancing wounds, already scraping scarred tissue.
Neither really feels anything for the other anymore. But the dance, the battle, the contest keeps them together. Light reflects of the blades as they flip and fly.
Thud into walls. Plink against the floors. Bounce of their scaly armour of experience, disdain and dull hate. It aches in their bellies. They think it might offer some release, against the mounting pressure....
When I woke up this morning, I knew it was going to be a good day. No groggy moans coming from my body as usual. A little tense in the hips, but nothing a good stretch won't fix. I got up with my girlfriend and made for the breakfast cereal. I worked on my cover letter for a new job application and my girlfriend made the breakfast. "I sure hope this works," I say as I hit send. The job is a definite, but I got into some trouble with the law a while back and my newly acquired bad...