I was on my way home from the party of the year. I was dressed up and driving across the wooden bridge over the deepest part of the river. Then suddenly, CRASH! My car was flying out over the river. Then I was in the icy cold water. Bubbles exploded from my nose and mouth. My body was so cold I couldn't move my sinking arms. The heavy black marble sized pearls around my neck felt like a chain weighing me down. My eyes open in shock took ink only darkness...and my own shadow.. cast into the sandy floor of...
He looked upwards. My goodness - it was high! What would he feel like under these arched ceilings, dwarfed by the massive columns and enclosed within the brick and stonework of this enormous building? A cold wind blew between the arches and pieces of litter fluttered by.
But to gain entrance to this place he knew that first he had to pass the exam. And he knew he had not prepared enough, not worked hard enough, not learnt the texts by heart as he should. He had been too busy with other things; eating and drinking, loving and sleeping, singing...
Safura was stalking her victim. Through the cobbled streets, around the market barrows, past the gates of the jail and under the washing lines strung between the slum buildings of the poor. The bones of an ox; she already had these. The teeth of a hound; yes, these too. Now all she needed was a few drops of blood taken directly from the heart of an innocent child.
The little girl stopped to buy an apple at a stall. Safura waited in the shadows behind. Jane, the stall holder, gave the child a rosy fruit and smiled at her.
"It's...
"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...
Boxes upon boxes upon boxes upon boxes.
Buried beneath more boxes and found deep below
even more boxes. We've built our lives around such
boxes. Filling them with such weighty things, keeping
them around because we're afraid to toss them and
who knows if we'll need their contents again
sometime in the future? We've built castles with these
boxes, making them larger and stronger fortresses
each day, stacking them on top of each other, careful
to not knock anyone else over. I, on the other hand,
don't like to keep boxes. They're too square and uncomfortable.
They remind me of...
Disappeared into the cityscape,
hiding unintentionally,
friend to only the birds,
for they are the only ones who
will keep this lone soul company.
On days like these, it's easier
for him to just stay in the shadows,
he has, after all, been living as
one. A familiar shadow of his former
life before he had succumbed to
the circumstances that brought
him to this humble time in his life,
whatever they may have been-
drugs, loss of a job, mentally
unstable. But this man was- and still
is- a man. Although it may not seem
like it on this...
Nothing is more terrifyingly beautiful than the intensity of a woman's Stare.
Not a gaze or a glace, but a Stare. One that lasts longer than a couple
seconds but no longer than a minute. The kind that cuts its way through
you, making you feel more- and at the same time, less- secure in your
strength as a man.
An unknown figure watched Mery and Arthur McGee as they shopped in main square. Mery, hair tied back, long coat wrapped around her to fight the cold, a scarf tucked around her neck, approached the front store window and glanced in awe at the woman behind the glass. Her hair coiled around her face in romantic ringlets, and her long black dress oozed with classic beauty.
"Arthur, isn't this dress marvelous? Look at the color, and the sweeping length. I must have it, Arthur. I must." Mery said in delight.
Arthurt, her husband, was less than enthused. "Dear, it's...
Mia and John sat by the stones, and no one noticed them.
"You shouldn't be here." John explained.
"My dad's hated here, so what? I need to know the truth."
John ducked under a tree, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Your dad is traced back to you. His enemies are yours now."
"You mean people want to kill me?"
"Just people you're dad took from." John said quietly, a blur against the dark stones.
Mia looked at him, incredulous. "It could be any of these people."
She looked around, and saw people through windows, walking through the streets,
Crap, the cafeteria was full again, so full that every table hosted several people sporting laptops and folders busting with papers that spilled out onto each plastic tabletop. Jenny held her tray of food in both hands and sighed heavily. Not a single goddamned place to sit and eat her lunch in peace.
Briefly, she contemplated going to the park bench outside, but the thought of November's chill made her reconsider. The smell of fresh sweet potato fries tickled her nose and made her mouth water. Annoyed but starving, she swallowed her pride and sat cross-legged on the floor against...