The words from the poem mirrored the scene in front of him.
"Two roads diverged in a wood," he recited aloud.
"Which one should I take," he thought as he stood at the junction of the two paths in front of him leading down the dark forest.
He had come out for a walk to clear his head. He closed his eyes and took a step forward and another and another...
Half an hour later, he stood in front of a giant tree. He looked up into its branches and a large pile of snow fell on him. He grabbed...
Drowning in the sea. That was the trick of it. To be seen to swoon, to fall to the bottom. The pretend to expire. It was the pearls that weighed me down. They alway do. Spiros bought them for the moon. That is what he said. The moon. As if the moon had a price. All things had a price. He gave them to me in the back garden of the hotel under a moon that was more red that white. A bad luck moon. But the band played on in the gallery and couples in their best passed under...
She laid there for an hour before moving. The waves had brought her here, and deigned not to take her away again. She had a reason to be here. Why? She rose to her feet, her eight legs working in concert, hydraulics hissing as she brought herself to her full height.
The stars burned into her eyes, their light searing their way into her memory. They were mesmerising, full of wonder, beautiful. She tore her gaze away, and looked at her surroundings. The beach expanded to the horizon. A man perched on a rock nearby. She looked at him. His...
He had had that dream again. He had dreamed about that walk and the ice sculpture many times. But this was the first time, he had floated up above the forest.
"If I hadn't woken up, what would I have seen?" he wondered.
A month later, he had the same dream again. And this time, he floated above the forest and went higher and higher into the sky.
The earth below him shrunk and everything grew smaller until the forest was just a speck in the distance.
"George," he heard a voice calling. It was the same voice he had...
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
"Come on, then," she said, impishly.
"I can't. You know I can;''t cross the line. I'll have to go back."
"Why?"
It's just how it works. It's a liminal space. I'll explain if you put the book down and step away."
She looked baffled, then nervous. "I can't! It's stuck to me."
On no! "Then bring it to me. Quickly. Please."
"What's happening." Her voice was flat, lacking timbre. She was fading and I couldn't get to her. I only had seconds.
"Stay where you end up. Don't move....
Confusion. That's what I am currently experiencing. I used to believe that I was a self-assured and secure person, but now I'm not so sure anymore. From the countless times that I've been left feeling vastly empty and irrelevant, to the endless times that I've found myself searching for answers to unanswerable questions. I am confused. So what exactly am I confused about? Well, the cold hard truth, is that I am unsure myself. There is no specific person or object or aspect that I am confused about. I am just purely confused.
Aangekomen op het kruispunt keek ik naar rechts.
En naar links.
Links lag mijn bestemming.
Een dag vol kennis en testen.
De weg naar een opleiding,
en een goede baan.
Onderweg naar mijn toekomst.
Het stoplicht springt op groen.
Iik de vrijheid tegemoet.
While me and my friend were packing, I thought of what we will do during the holiday we have away from school or stress for that matter. I walked up to him with my luggage and grabbed his luggage. I rolled them all the way to the car. He soon joined me in getting everything else in the car. We started to drive soon and soon enough, we reached our destination. I got out of the car and walked to the front desk of the hotel. I grabbed the key card and walked back over to the car. I grabbed...
There was a young man but so much unlike a normal man he was. He was always put in solitude, never let neer others. There was a reason for this his, he was to dangerous his father would say to him. But he did not think this he did not think people would fear him. One day he had been walking through the courtyard and he spotted something in the corner, this was what he needed a tunnel. So the following night he crawled through and ended up in a town and smelled something so sweet.....blood.
The year was 1986 and she was a high school softball star. So young and full of potential. She was beautiful. She had a beauty that stopped time every time you looked at her. The world was hers for the taking. She loved a lot and loved with all her heart. She held it together for her babies. She tried for so long but the pain chipped away at her slowly everyday. How could she leave? She loved her children more than heartache killed her. What were her dreams? How different would her life be had she not gotten pregnant?...