If you really knew me, you'd find I hate cinnamon; the smell, the taste, everything about it. I've never tried a brussel sprout and I would say my favorite food are hot dogs, even though they aren't so good for you. If this were a book about my life, I could tell you I've lived in NY my whole life, and just recently I want to move; the winter used to be one of my favorite seasons, and now it's just too cold to bear. If we just met and you asked my favorite color, I would tell you pink...
Christmas parties at work. Always held during the day. I lift my head from my desk, shuffle to the lunch room, punch out.
No booze, no music. A potluck. This close to Thanksgiving in a soup kitchen. The owner of the company is a well-known philanthropist and a lesser-known miser.
The meal's adequate. Warm soda floating in the ice of a wet cooler. Outside, the rain falls. The ground's as soggy as the bread slices set beside the ranch dressing.
Merry Christmas. Back to work. I see Caesar in the hall and thank him for his salad.
The water was clear and not a cloud was in the sky. Melody lay in the tall weeds near the lake under a weeping willow.
This was the last day of her summer vacation and as she was lounging there she was pondering all of the things she had done that summer and the things she wished she did.
She realized that only so much is possible in 104 days but that realization did not defer her mind from thinking of all her missed opportunities.
In reality isn't it strange that humans must choose what they want to use their...
Giving in wasn't an option anymore because I had given in too many times before.
I'd taken it time after time - too many times before, and this has me broken. I'm broken, broken from you.
You've simply abused me, in the finer way. The finer way where not all the cracks show, in the way that I can hold them in so that they are only something I know. In the way that only I will know when I see you again, and the cracks come stabbing on like a nightmare.
Now when you're feeling down, I won't risk...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
Yeah, wasn't that my typical luck? My day in and day out? Slipping in and out from the friggin' jaws of death like a suicidal mouse playing with a cat? If this was what the rest of my life, which, granted, didn't look like it was gonna be very long, was gonna be, I wasn't so sure I wanted part of it. It got damn old, damn quick.
I'd faced down a lot of things in my...
The bird landed. The men initiated procedures drilled into them back on earth and dream't of for the past month. The main hatch slowly opened. The first men stepped out onto the Martian surface. This would be their home. For the rest of their lives, they'd volunteered knowing they wouldn't ever return to earth. Alphonso stepped forward and turned back to face the rest of them. This is what they had rehearsed. He flipped the switch that would enable the broadcast to be heard by everyone on earth, instead of the internal channel to the corporation. He began to speak,...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet.
"Mummy, Mummy!" he yelled, his face flushed and eyes gleaming with excitement.
"What is it, sweetheart?" I asked, my heart in my mouth, fearing the worst.
Surely nothing terrible had happened in those few short minutes since I'd turned my back and left him to his own devices?
Unconsciously scanning his body for weeping wounds, gaping gashes or odd shaped bones like a Men in Black zapper I began to relax.
"What's happened now?" I said, smiling at my golden child.
"Mummy, I rode up the hill...
The waitress came up and said "Hey, want corn flakes?"
"No," says I. I am busy reading my book, which is about masking tape.
But the waitress is having none of it. "I made these corn flakes myself," she says.
"Okay," says I. "Give me some corn flakes."
She gives them to me. They are red, not orange, but I eat 'em anyway. "Yuck," says I. "These don't taste like corn flakes at all."
"They're not," she says. "They're scabs I picked off my elbow."
She shows me her elbow, which is bleeding lots. All kinds of blood is pouring...
Reading the random prompt for today I felt a shiver of unease as though someone had been spying on me throughout my life. I am not who I appear to be. Not a rich suburban housewife whose main pleasure in life is secretly eating a tub of toffee icecream watching daytime tv as my millionnaire husband is working overtime and entertaining clients with champagne in a 5 star restaurant. I spend my life between two worlds, a medieval princess whose life is complicated by my uncle, a brooding bishop and a bastard brother who thinks he has a claim to...
He set the plate before her. "EAT!" "YOU WILL EAT!" He shouted at her from behind. He had her put on a blue dress before dinner, like Alice from Alice in Wonderland.
"YOU WILL EAT DINNER LITTLE GIRL!" He knew she was crying right onto the table. Kaley had been handcuffed to the table for around 6 hours already, and she was panicked and truly terrified. Wilson kidnapped her off the street; he dressed her up and made her sit at his dinner table in his basement, decorated like kids' play room.
Wilson crouched down to the side of her...