She was confused. Usually there was a title, a prompt, a line, a place to start from. Today it simply said "Write as you please, in six minutes, like a breeze".
Breeze, now there's a word she was familiar with. There was always a breeze, always a cruel wind. It hunched her shoulders and tightened her neck and made it a necessity to always be wound around in a scarf, tightly constricted.
Breeze is a soft sounding word, reminiscent of the ocean, the sea, sail boats and people swimming. It makes one think of a Coastal town, of Europe, of...
Long after the fireworks, Katie was returning form the lake side. It wasn't a long walk back to her home. She walk along the road. She was passing a house the paint a yellowed white, this was her boyfriend's house she stood there, and began to remember the the happy time she had with him, and as she remember all the good a phone rang, then the sound of a crying woman, she realized it was her voice.
I was staring. I could feel myself doing to but I couldn't stop. I was transfixed.
We had met only three days ago and already I just knew that she had made an impression. Although until this moment, I had no idea just how much.
Her skin was flawless marble. Her frame slender and perfectly proportioned. Her hair long, thick and silky.
She was perfect.
Even now, as took off her clothes and showed me her secret.
The giant red scar cutting into her side.
She wasn't ready to tell me where it had come from, but I was okay...
He sat in the window of the coffee shop, letting his coffee go cold as he stared at the people passing on the street absentmindedly. His notebook lay open in his lap, forgotten. His new assignment at work completely failing to inspire him. His phone was faced down on the table so that he couldn't see it when it lit up as his girlfriend rang him to check up, berate him or otherwise just invade his bubble of solitude.
He wasn't sure whenhe had begun to feel just so, disatisfied, but the feeling had certainly settled upon him with a...
I felt a dim glow of satisfaction deep within my soul as the night turned into day. My dreams of before, now a reality. There was nothing I wanted...
But one thing... The one thing I couldn't have.
I believe in miricles as they happen every day around me, birth, growth, laugther and joy. I pray for a miricle now, even. Guide him, save her. I can hardley get everyones name into the list sometimes as the hours pass by.
But there is one name that stands out like a black print on a white paper. A name that still...
So, maybe she wasn't what a guy wanted in a girlfriend. She was loud, and rowdy. Always speaking her mind, blunt to a fault.
She didn't know what guys wanted, They just didn't want her.
21 years old and not one date, not even a first kiss. "Failure." She breathed.
"Did you say something, Charlotte?" Her mother asked, she shook her head.
"Nope." She continued to look out the window as her mother drove down the highway.
What was wrong with her, she didn't feel ugly. and she liked her sense of humor, but then why was she so invisible...
She stood waiting by the binoculars. How sappily romantic was that? She shook her head at her own ridiculousness.
To distract herself, she gazed out across the city. The beautiful city she called home.
From here, everything was so clear and straight. The roads looked easy to navigate, like one could never get lost.
She had moved to this city four years ago. Following a dream, a memory. Some how she had stumbled upon him. And he was, real.
He was also no where to be seen.
She looked down at her wrist for the watch she didn't wear anymore,...
"Why do people have to lie?" Bridgette asked herself as she looked over the water.
The couple that passed gave her a odd look but she just shrugged, she didn't care what people thought.
"I always tell the truth, even when I probably shouldn't. So, why is it so hard for other people? Why can't they just say what they feel?"
A face of a boy she knew drifted to the forefront of her mind; sure, she already knew he liked her but did he ever tell her? No.
"Things would be so much more simple if people just spoke...
She hated when people asked where she came from. She didn't like dwelling on the past, or for that matter, thinking of it at all.
The past made her feel weak, vulnerable. She loathed feeling that way.
She wasn't weak, like her mother. Her mother stayed with him to rot.
But not Laura, she got out as soon as she could. As far away as she could from him, the man that had the nerve to call himself her father.
He was evil, he was a monster that haunted her dreams, she hated him. Him and his "holier then though"...
I was going to tell her the truth...honesty is always the best policy...right? But then I wasn't ready just yet. What would she think? How would she react? Would anything ever be the same?
"No. I can't tell her." I muttered quietly to myself. I hunched over another inch on my bar stool. I was alone although surrounded by patrons at the hotel called The Silent Sleeper's pub. The TV roared football overhead. I could hardley notice anything else in the room but the grain of the wood on the wooden bar counter in front of me, as I grew...