Everyone was on board for the show. They had their fly gear and their hats. I, of course, forgot my sunglasses.
"No problem," mama said, "just squint!"
As we lined up, I squinted at the audience. It never ceased to amaze me that the entire population of a town would stop what it was doing to watch our show every week. But they did. All fifty-four of them, including the dogs.
I was getting antsy. This week, I was the leader! Never before had a child led the show! I wasn't nervous; there's no room for nerves in show-biz. However,...
"Following up from the fight we had last night Darren"
"I don't wanna talk about it Judy"
I can see the fear in Darren's eyes, i know he wants to tell me something, I just don't know what. His hands are trembling, while peeling the potatoes preparing for dinner. The look on his face is getting worrying. He suddenly falls to the floor, the peeler is down there with him. What did he do? What did I do? 911. PLease..
The key couldn't break.
Forged by the hand of fate
In the fires of adversity
Her love would mold
The white-hot metal
Into the shape it was meant to take
Then
Cooled by her touch
Quenched with desire
It would unlock
Anything
i had a dream. It was so weird! I dreamt is was in a truck cruising down the highway. I looked up at the driver and said "Where am i?" He turned around, slow, very slow. I gasped. He was a cat! a gray tabby with neon eyes. "Why am i here?" i asked, thinking that, hey this was a dream. if this cat can drive, then maybe he can talk too. he opened his mouth. "Meow?" was all that came out. So much for the "if he can drive, he can talk" theory. I sat up. We were driving...
They were listening. Their ears pressed up against the wall. She held her breath, the clock ticked. Her boyfriend huffed and rolled his eyes. She glared at him and held a finger to her mouth. He was about to speak when it started again.
The yelling, this time it was followed by a crash. Then the low voices. It was odd, it wasn't the usual commotion they heard from the neighbors. The man's voice was urgent, the woman's angry.
Straining, she shifted her weight so she could better press her ear against the wall and when that didn't work she...
The fetid winds drifted heavily across the abandoned battlefield. Stench and Decay and the futility of it all. To our protagonists it was a bounty of untold riches. Coin and Cloth and untold amounts of scrap metal to be melted down. To the pickers and eaters of the dead this waste of life and treasure might feed thier kith and kin for many days. Wherever the Gods of War traveled, they were circling with unnatural patience.
The raven sat and contemplated the traveler beneath the moon's harsh gaze. She struggled onwards, leaning heavily on her cane, cloak pulled tight against the bitter cold. Any moment now, she would look up and see her fate sillouetted against the silvery orb.
Just then, a cloud passed between them. The sudden shadow caused her gaze to flit skyward, but all she saw were cotton clouds outlined by silver light. The harbinger of death waited for her to notice him, but once again her eyes looked earthward, focused on the path before her, now brightly illumined by the heavenly bodies....
Cleanliness was a virtue. They told him that.
"Who are they?" The others would ask. The others didn't believe in they. But they are there. They must be. Or else, why they tell him that?
They also told him of the magical properties of the string. The others didn't believe in the string, but he convinced them.
you must try the ritual of the string, or it will not work it is powered by nonbelievers
The others were intrigued. Still, they did not believe, but, perhaps, what harm is it to see where this leads?
Of course, the ritual of...
She sat cold in her bedroom; freezing. Holding the book to her chest like she couldn't let it go. That book held all of her secrets. Good and bad, ones that could even get her, and some others arrested.
She knew she had to pull herself together; at this point she was sobbing, thinking of everything that was going on in her life, why she was sitting in a nightshirt in the 60 degree house when it was -8 outside, when she could be bundled up somewhere else where it was actually warm outside.
She opened her journal for some...
In the long shadow of the afternoon i'm waiting for a friend. An encounter I've have been looking forwards to for the later half of the week. This week, like the many that came before has been long and tiring, but sitting here waiting I'm half in the next moment half in this. Patience is too offend wasted on events half enjoyed, this shell not be one of those experiences. Please oh, please. let it not be one of the those...