I was at home with my wife when we heard the noise start. At first just quiet thumps. Then louder and louder. I had her hide in her room, the door locked.
I grabbed my axe. By then I could smell something off. Something rancid and foul. I shouted, warning the intruder. This was my home and no robber or murder was going to violate it like this.
I tore through the house, screaming for him. No sign of him. And the noise had stopped. The kitchen was empty. The hall was empty. I ran back to our bedroom. The...
Did you hear what happened to Ol' Morlane? Word got around, I mean, I heard it from Skeets who heard it from Fuller but I checked around with some other people and they all heard the same so it's true I guess. You didn't hear this? I mean, I don't know where you been you didn't hear this. Once Skeets told me I musta heard it nine-ten-twenty times in the past few or four days. You been out somewhere? Somewhere secret? Rustlin' up something good for the rest of us? Don't worry about it. Anyway, before you go in there...
They were trapped for seven days. Faced with a myriad of uncertainties, this much Antonius knew to be true. The pangs of hunger had eventually morphed into a constant feeling of nausea. However there was no escaping the continual thirst that couldn't be quenched. How he desired his lips to touch the current of a fresh spring. Anything to replace the mix of his urine and rain water he had survived on this past week. Still the worst of his locked away environment was the person with whom he shared his cell, Marcus.
"How can he sit there with that...
She had read somewhere that there were lands beneath the seas, that it was where wishes hid themselves ("Fishes, you mean fishes."), that is was where dreams lived, that it was where pearls of happiness lived.
Pearls were the perfect metaphor; beauty and perfection, born of irritation. Born of an age of suffering.
They had stopped believing in mythical lands that lived beneath the waves, and so she stopped talking about them - there was a look in their eyes that she remembered, the same look her mother had been given.
Mother had tried to take her to the land...
There once was a man who live on Richmond street, he died a few years back. Took care of his elderly mother who used to shave her head and named her pet cat Winston Churchill, she had a few pet birds too. Anyway, the man was a Musician. He used to park his van down by this old run down building in the center of town and sit with the door open playing his guitar. He wasn't the greatest and he wasn't the worst, he just really enjoyed what he did. I forget his name but I haven't forgotten the...
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. He just stands there in diffused light - brooding and making no noise.
Oddly enough, he makes no attempt at escaping. Perhaps its because I stapled him to the dresser drawer as he had refused to have his picture taken.
He looks so much better in person anyway...
The city was empty. The day had swept by on the brush of a filthy broom, skittering over the edge of the world. We were happy.
But we'd always secretly reveled in disaster situations. When the status-quo was torn asunder, that's when we came alive. It was the status quo that we couldn't deal with.
The last bits of ash were falling out of the sky. The TV said that this might be the end of it. But they also said it might not. Storm clouds at night make the world all that much darker. So we lit our candles,...
Potatoes.
Kept in the cellar in a woven sack. My pillow for the last three weeks since Grandpa decided I was too bad to live with the rest of them.
Not that I did anything wrong by normal people's standards.
Grandpa was funny in the head. Grandma was scared of him so went along with his punishments for us kids, and took a beating herself too.
Life was hard for her. Grandpa had a way that could make himself look like a regular person when he met other folks. No-one knew what was really going on in our home.
The...
100 feet away. I can see the end. I have been searching, wandering, climbing, stumbling, falling into the "infinite abyss", always somehow with an inner drive getting back to my feet. Days, weeks, months, stranded, isolated, all alone. Me and my thoughts. My fears. but I can't give up. What if I do? how will I ever know.? So through the blazing sun, torrential downpours, the sub-zero temperatures, sheltering myself with man-made huts, I pushed on. and now 100 more feet. Don't give up now! No...don't!
I was born inside a leather and land lace tomato breast. My father was a blues singer and my mother was a vegetarian prostitute. My toenails were always brittle, and my ribs aplenty. However, my vertebrae had a slight curvature, which lent itself to future sideways glances--both coming and going.
But we are getting ahead of ourselves. It wasn't always rainy inside of my leather and lace tomato breast womb, but occasionally some foreign government, or Delta slide-playing red rooster would seed the environs of my leather and lace tomato breast womb. Seeding has been outlawed m]for military use by...