The cross section of broken ice and grid perplexed the intrigued scientists.It seemed impossible that what the local had said was true yet fortunately they had listed and laid the glass and steel grid below their feet anyway. To a casual observer this planet seemed to be surfaced by solid ice but here it was, ineffable proof that there was someting beneath the ice, hollow chasms, ranging from a few to unknown depths, It seemed imposible but there it was places in the ice were hollow. and these great chasms had to house some seecret for there was an erie...
I wish I had something to say
But every idea I have just sounds HEY!
ARE THOSE BUTTERFLIES!
IN OCTOBER!? She cries.
Attention Deficit Disorder's the theme of my day.
Once I had a bad case of food poisoning,
So bad, I called my ex-wife loudly moaning.
I projectile vomited with pride.
The guy next to me died.
When the bill came, I resumed my groaning.
That's it?
No **it?
That was terrible.
You are horrible.
It was late, and all the old songs had been sung. Much of the sweet red wind had been drunk. We sat in the desert on that little peak that looked down over the town. The moon was full and for a few minutes everything seemed like it did the last time we were up there, which had to have been thirty years ago. Sam and Richard went off to look for some dry scrub to make a little fire. I looked at the lights below, thinking about old times, back when the band was together. I nodded out for...
Light. It was painful to look at; my hangover was tremendous. My hair was matted to the side of my face, and my pillowcase had collected all of the eyeliner I had on from the night before.
It was December 4th. I was 18. I had no idea how I got back into my bed from the previous night. I had lost my keys. I was spitting out blood. I was supposed to go to Toronto on a shopping trip that day.
I went. I felt dead. I caught pneumonia from being outside in December with hardly any clothes on....
I shall wait.
I shall wait for the timer to go through it's course.
Wait for the little seconds to pass me by.
Produce nothing of content.
Produce nothing of consequence.
Just words strung together in a jumbled sort of way.
Words become random assortments of letters.
Meaning is lost in the rush to get them out.
It's killing me.
Realizing that six minutes is such a vast distance of time.
And yet my brain cannot seem to function adequately.
I like to sip my stories like brandy.
I like to savor my poems, swish their contents around my mouth...
Marvin knew that he had to return the salad dressing. Last night, it started screaming at him. "BRING ME DWARVES!" it yelled. Strange, since as far as Marvin knew, salad dressing does not have vocal cords.
So he put the salad dressing in a baggie and threw it in the back of his backpack. He could hear the salad dressing yelling. "I HATE THE DARK AND I HATE THE WARMTH!!! THIS IS WORSE THAN THE FRIDGE! THAT WAS DARK BUT AT LEAST IT WAS COLD!!!"
Down the stairs Marvin ran. As he pushed his way out the door, he ran...
He set the plate before her.
"Eat." She looked up at him from where she sat at the worn wooden table. He was so kind; so good. His black hair fell into his eyes as he watched her. The green eyes clouded with concern. "Please, I need to see you eat. You are killing yourself."
She wrapped her arms around her stomach and ran her fingers over the dips that defined her ribs. He was so wonderful but he just didn't understand. She needed to do this. She couldn't be fat. Not for him or anyone else.
I know that if I keep going I will make it, just a few more yards surely. My body - weak, my mind - blank, my friends - gone. I lost them a few days ago in the stormy waters that came from beneath. Evidence from our fishing vacation that we had been anticipating for weeks, in smithereens. Why me, why am I the only one here.
Surely this has to be a sign from above, Gods way of letting me know I'm special and he has other things planned for me. I promise, I will not let him down,...
My hand disappeared a week ago. I was rolling out a sheet of cookie dough for the kids. They come home around three and I like to have something warm baking for them. It makes me feel more useful and it's good that kids end their day with something sweet.
I was rolling the dough. Chocolate chip, I think it was. And my left hand just wasn't there anymore. The space where it was before was empty now. I didn't scream or cry. I'd gotten used to missing things. I figured this would be the same.
I had another hand...
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. What is he doing there? How did he get in here?! This is something I'd see in a movie and just be scared for the person sleeping in their bed. Now that person is me, awakened by the feeling that someone is watching me. You know the feeling? The one where you can just 'tell' that someone, somewhere, is looking at you?
That is what woke me from my slumber, as it were. Sleeping soundly, like any other night, I awoke disturbed. Sitting up in bed I wondered what was going...