Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She shielded her eyes from the flashes of light that arced across the blackened sky, her face soaked with tears, her heart pounding in her chest as the cacophony of noise rattled her skull.
In London, a family huddled together in a corner of their living room, across from the window that had blown itself out from the force of the first impact. They held between them the grandmothers crucifix, praying to their God as if he could save them.
A man stood atop the Eifel...
The rain came pouring down upon me. And as I lay there, my cheap gown leeching its red dye into the gutter, I imagined my own blood joining it and just letting myself go away. I thought about it for a long, long time. The rain intensified. The thunder seemed to be synched to my thoughts and my sudden spasms of regret and anguish and misery.
It came down to making a choice. I would either stand up and walk on, or I wouldn't. I thought about how long it would take for me to perish in this place, knowing...
If I just write something, what if I reveal something unsavoury about myself?
What if I mess up the spelling?
What if I am under so much pressure to knock something out in six minutes that I don't write anything? A single blank page permanently appearing on my profile as a record of my inneptitude?
What if I write about something uncool, or unninteresting? First impressions count, after all. I'll be an outcast before I've even started.
Maybe I could just leave here and never come back. All this would be a brief, awkward memory. I could add it to...
- Ok, I'm going. Don't be late again!
Her voice pierced the steamy hot bathroom as I lay, half submerged, pondering the taps.
I don't reply.
Every morning it's the same. I sit here, enveloped in warm water and steam, my mind completely blank. But always, she invades my mind.
I wouldn't do it if it wasn't for her. I would lay here, topping up the bath with hot water as it grows tepid. Just blank.
Occassionally I think back to my childhood. As the hot water swirls in through the warm I am reminded of something my Mother always...
She stood there, covered in nothing but a crimson gown, shivering against the cold.
The rain fell down in a perfect arc around her, as the doorway spared her from the worst of the elements.
Glancing out, she caught my eye, and there was only one thing to do.
Or so I thought, but as I crossed the road, running to escape the never-ending sheetm with my coat over my head, I failed to see the bike that was heading, at speed, towards me.
A scream, a crumpling of flesh and metal and a release of the reason I crossed...
Elle courait dans le couloir comme le matin les joggers courent le long de la piste cyclable. C'était son entrainement quotidien. A défaut de joli chemin en plein air, le corridor était son stade. Et elle était rémunérée pour courir. Non pas pour faire la gloire de la Chine aux JO, non, mais pour faire circuler l'air dans cet immeuble-ville. Les mouvement d'air provoqué par ses déplacements assuraient en partie la ventilation de l'habitation. Elle fait partie cette génération remise au goût moderne des enfants des mines.
Une fois son jogging d'une heure effectué, elle pouvait vaquer à ses occupations...
Once upon a time I thought that I was a bird flying through the sky.
And then I realised that I'd just dreamt it. But once I realised that I was able to control my dreams, I decided to fly whenever it occurred to me that I was asleep. I would fly over my Grandma's house, I would start running as fast as I could and my arms would reach out beside me and I would just run up and up and up and there I was, able to fly anywhere. Able to see above all that was happening and...
She remained there, trying not to be washed away by the torrent that unfolded minutes beforehand. It was a terrible scene, yet pleasant; watching the rain soothed the fire stoked within herself.
Did she wish to begrudge another man? Did she want to carry another grudge? Did she care to add another misery to her life?
In a flash, he appeared in a busy unfamiliar street. He looked around saw people milling around various open market stands selling knickknacks and various food items. He could not focus his auditory senses to make out the language spoken around him. He stumbled forward.
His clothes were unfamiliar, people brushed passed him with disregard. He looked down at his clothes and did not recognize the ensemble. He glanced at his reflection from a shop window and did not recognize the person.
Confusion and fear sets in. He suddenly felt light headed and could not catch his breath. Fear and...
Drink, row 18, seat f. Coca Cola. Seat g. Orange juice. Wants vodka. That'll be $5. I can charge it to your credit card or take cash. Comes back, gets vodka, goes back, give vodka.
Jacob tells the co-pilot to take the controls. "I'll be right back."
Snack, row 23, seat b.
Jacob eyes her, and she eyes back, but is helpless to move. He makes for the lavatory, but she doesn't follow.
Orange joice, row 23, seat c. Call light, row 5, seat c.
He unzips his fly, pulls down his pants, and begins to play with himself, expecting,...