"Well, if you don't feel like telling me her name, at least tell me what she looks like."
She's perfect. Skin as unblemished as the first snow fall, dark blue eyes that always dance when she sees me, brown hair that shines in the moonlight when we meet in the garden behind her house. Her voice is smooth, young, and playful and I love her. But if they knew who she was... Who knows what they'd do if they knew that the one I love is a Capulet? I'm Romeo, for goodness sake! The son of Lord Montague, enemy of...
It wasn't like that. It wasn't. She hadn't led him on. Or him her. It wasn't like she'd planned to have an affair. There, she'd finally said it. An affair. With her boss. Her married boss. Her dreamy, overworked, misunderstood boss, Tim. It wasn't like it was sordid, or wrong. It wasn't like they'd been indiscreet. It wasn't like any of her colleagues had known. It wasn't like she'd expected him to break it Off. It wasn't like he wasn't kind. The bastard.
"Tim, you bastard. Why do you care enough to want an end to spare your wife?"
It...
There once was a house that no child or adult dared enter, the house was known to be haunted. Even though that the house was haunted, it always seemed to look neat on the outside but it was rumored that it was haunted inside. Everyone knew not to go into that house, except this one child, Annie. Annie was a young girl who had wavy brown hair and big eyes. Annie didn't believe that the house was haunted, so one day she set off to go look through the house, she knew if her parents found out about what she...
The trick was picking the tired, lost ones. That was the trick. Many passengers coming into Warsaw Airport had been warned about 'unlicensed' taxis, but if you chose well they would be too confused to argue. The trick was getting their bag. Once you had that, with a "Let me carry your bag, Sir/Madam," they would have to follow you.
The trick was to walk fast enough to scare them into following you, for fear of losing their baggage in the busy arrivals lounge, but not so fast the airport police would think you were stealing something.
That was the...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It wasn't a normal doorway because when I say doorway you think of things like wood and brass nobs and, possibly, hinges.
This had none of those.
And it was hardly a red gown, because you are likely thinking of something you'd take to a ball, or if you're the really twisted sort, and I can tell you are, there's an image of a piece of clothing given out to a somewhat disturbing institution, or asylum, for those less inclined to modern verbiage or intent on...
I'm lost.
The corn fields turned into and endless turning of green upon green, and I couldn't run because the leaves had become blades.
I've stopped walking. I've stopped screaming. Screaming only made me thirsty, and I even tried tearing a corn leaf to pieces to suck on something, anything. I tried to pull an ear and when I pulled the leaves back, a handful of black ear wigs fell onto my lap, pincher butts spread wide. I wiped them off and ran.
Something cut my upper arm.
I lay now, staring at the sky, it's gone from gray to...
She cradled the faun's head. Tears, vivid green, stained the slight creature's pale skin. Her story wasn't meant to end this way.
Shashera stroked Ferin's cheek. "I'm so sorry, my friend," she whispered, leaning down to press her lips to his brow. The faun shuddered at the chill of her touch.
"You weren't supposed to let him in," he said, voice weak, but thick with accusation. "You were our protector." Another tear dropped from her lashes to splash onto his chest and he jerked at the impact.
"I know." The nymph settled her friend back on the bed. "But it's...
Memory...
I forgot her face. How black were her eyes?
Was her nose long? Was her hair black?
No, I can't remember, I only remember that she was there, in my life.
A random memory hit like a lightning.
I have her snap in my laptop, or in was it in my personal file in flickr?
I try, with possible passwords...Wow ! After years, did I regain my memory? I wonder.
I open the personal photos in the flickr file.
I find her name there and eagerly click it and this image comes!
Memory lost again...I lose!
I cannot be old as were, but I'll be as old...
No springs, no machination, no burn, can retreat the circle
but the circle will come round
--not old as were
Along the shore they did not remember
Walking until their flesh and their ligaments
Wasted
No mercy for the parched
And she stood staring from behind pa(in)
And he paced
And he destroyed
And he ripped--because
This is not the girl I wanted
This is not the girl I knew
This is not the girl I ordered
Custom made behind a pa(in) of glass
Darling or darling oh darling...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. That was really the least of his problems. It meant the electricity had finally been turned off. So had the water, the cable, and the gas. At least they had waited until the spring. It was warm enough to not risk freezing that night.
Jacob wondered through his house, filled with useless possessions. He touched the television and the fridge as he walked by them, exiting the house and into the beautiful April morning.
The birds were chirping and a steady drone of cars racing down the highway filled his ears. He took a deep...