Puck looked at the watch and pondered on the nature of time.
It was almost as fickle as he was.
What marriage - or a good binding spell brought on by too many intoxicants and a serious lack of judgement - had bound together, time would tear asunder. At least it would if Puck had anything to do with it. Robin Goodfellow was not a fairy that would remain tied by one woman for long, no matter how fun that bondage might be.
Buttercup lay frozen on the bed, a beautific smile lightened features that would otherwise have appeared harsh...
Our words are what separate us from animals. We have the ability to communicate our thoughts and feelings clearly to another human being. Words are vital and so is how we use them. One word can change your life forever.
I love you I hate you
Think about it
We use words so frivolously without any thought of the true meaning behind them. Together we will go behind the words, and investigate what they mean to us, how we feel when we use them, and how these words ultimately affect life as we know it.
Animals
A living organism characterized...
He set the plate before her. He watched her eat it clean.
"Where have you been?" he wanted to know.
Instead he said, "It's good to see you again."
She nodded at him, said something about being tired, bouncing around too many places, too many people. But he only heard, "I've spent every free moment with him, letting that stranger come inside me."
So his response probably sounded non-sequitur to her. "When's the last time you had a weekend to yourself?"
"A while. I don't know how long."
"Four weekends," he thought. "The weekend before that we went to the...
Alfred Cappachino looked out at the swirling mass of humanity, a stupid grin plastered to his face to hide his abject terror. Which one of the lovely women in the throng was his blind date? He adjusted his spectacles for the umpth time, then reconsidered and pulled them off, wiping the lenses on his shirt before returning the accessory to the bridge of his nose. What did she look like? All he knew was that she'd be wearing a 'geeky' t-shirt, whatever that meant. Geek was chic now though, right? Hence, his glasses with the clear frames, his strategically-parted hair,...
This is a confession that I wrote for you. Only you. And I know you won't understand this because your heart doesn't race at the sound of my name or voice. But I wrote this because I hope you do understand this. That you do feel something when you hear my name or voice.
I always seem to be behind you. It's not even one step that's separating us. It's a million steps that I'll never be able to close up because your expectations are slowly eating me up. Everyone seems to love you and I'm afraid that I do...
Beatirix shuddered as a cold wind whipped across the stage, and she clasped her hat tightly to her head. Stage fright had her firmly in its clutches, but an outdoor performance only increased her anxiety. What was she thinking? Singing in the shower was one thing; this was totally different. She imagined the sea of faces before her and felt her heart beating even faster. Her breath caught in her throat at the thought of him in the audience. What would he think? Would he think her a fool, an artist, or a lunatic?
As the audience murmurs rose at...
The convention awaits, but yet she can't bring herself to walk up the escalator. She should, she knows that. She should race up the moving stairs to reach her goal all the sooner, but it seems undignified somehow. Sure, her Leia buns are mere headphones, and her white satin bathrobe a poor approximation of the space princess's Senatorial garb, but her persona is the most important part of the costume. For tonight, she is Leia. She adjusts the black-rimmed monstrosity that sits upon her nose, clutches her tickets, and steels herself for the trial before her. If only she carried...
Lola, she was a dancer... something about flowers in her hair or was it her underwear? He couldn't actually remember the lyrics to the song or who sang it, but the melody pounded in his brain like a ballpeen hammer. What the hell was he going to do? Lola was a crappy name anyway. What the hell did it stand for? Lolita? Margola? Or some sort of anagram, or whatever the hell it was when you smushed the first letters of a bunch of words together for the sake of brevity. All he knew was that Lola, whatever it stood...
I don't know what to say. The image was... IS astouding, but other than that, nothing. What do I see? A lonely figure on a windswept beach, but not one of sand, no, one of bright colors and soft, sculpted rocks. The ocean is so close, yet because the sky matches the color of the water, the sea seems to go on forever, endlessly rolling through the heavens, the white waves becoming clouds creasing the sky as they travel through the heavens. It's daytime, yet not as bright as you would expect. The clouds mask the sunlight, dimming it, not...
They crouched to peer beneath the stairs, their eyes reflecting the light like stars in the darkness. Not that anyone noticed. Not that anyone cared...
No one had while they lived, why should they care now? Now that they were as insubstantial as the breeze that leaked through the wooden boards that made up the house. No one knew where the breeze came from, only that it chilled them at odd times of the day and night. When it was especially windy outside, the skeletal trees would scrap against the house with gnarled limbs that stretched out like fingers. It...