It was just a test. Just to see what it was like, or what he was like. With trepidation he inched his way forward. There he was finally. Sitting on the edge of the cliff. Life had been rough lately, or rather it had been rough to live his life of boredom. The doldrums. He wanted to see what he was made of. Sitting there on the edge of the cliff he thought he might be able to make some meaning of life. He was not planning on jumping. Life was lame, but not that lame. He just figured that...
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...
Hugging her knees, Tanya stifled another sob. Her face felt swollen and sore, yet numb from the pain. Sitting in the pitch black, the only light coming from the oven which was still humming beside her. The lasagna she had been making for tea splashed across the floor and up the walls.
She could hear Tim banging upstairs, the slamming of cabinets in the bathroom as he got changed. He couldn't go to the pub with blood on his shirt, could he?
Tanya knew she would have to clear up the mess at some point, but for now she was...
She bent down to tie her shoe as the sun was setting. The reflection of the pinkish-yellow ball was right in front of her at the edge of the lake. The pebbles beneath her feet were wet and smooth. The umbrella she brought with her, still resting on her beach towel by the tree.
With many thoughts in her head, Chelsea folded up her umbrella and tucked it beneath her arm, rolling up her damp towel and stuffing her towel into her drawstring bag.
Today was a good day, she thought. She could get through this day. Days at the...
One day, we were children. The next day, we were kids, running down to the dock by ourselves. You carried a bowl of strawberries and your raincoat flapped in the wind. Your mother always made you wear a raincoat.
Daisy followed us down to the dock. She was old by then, and you'd never liked her much--not since her flopping, whining puppy years. The dog had a tendency to bark at passing ships, to squeal miserably when you dove into the water and swam further from her sight.
That day, Daisy stood as close to the dock's edge as her...
To the President of the United States,
Please do not pass this law. There are many people who depend on life support for long periods of time and then come back to resume normal lives. If you allow family members to 'pull the plug' if they cannot afford the medical treatment, many people of little means will die. I know this because I am a paraplegic. When I lost my legs, I spent some time on the very machines in question. My family couldn't afford the treatment, and paid bills for years to make it right. I am now a...
Water. That's what I always think of when I think of her. Cannon Creek, Lake Erie, the Atlantic, the Pacific, nothing too specific.
Water can be anything you need, want, fear, love, hate. It can be clear, it can be murky. It can be warm, cold, swallow, deep. All these things are what water naturally is.
In my memory, our love is an ocean. Oh, yes. We were in love. I'm not so hopelessly romantic that I would ever be involved in unreciprocated love. No, no. We were in love, and it was the ocean.
She swam in the clear...
The garage was stacked to the ceiling with boxes, the U-Haul ready to cart them away on that windy Tuesday morning. I was wearing sweatpants and my hair was tied up in a bun, ready to move the hell out of there. I had only lived in that white suburban house for two years. I remember the day I moved in it was mid-February. That was two years ago. Then it became May 19th, Tuesday, and windy. I held back tears as I drove away from that house, the one we were supposed to live in after the wedding, raise...
If I just write something, what if I reveal something unsavoury about myself?
What if I mess up the spelling?
What if I am under so much pressure to knock something out in six minutes that I don't write anything? A single blank page permanently appearing on my profile as a record of my inneptitude?
What if I write about something uncool, or unninteresting? First impressions count, after all. I'll be an outcast before I've even started.
Maybe I could just leave here and never come back. All this would be a brief, awkward memory. I could add it to...
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...