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...
It was rather like being a ghost. Vicarious snooping. A social media haunting (stalking?). The only way to keep in touch with the untouchable children, who were no longer part of life. Maybe, the FaceBook groups should have been diplomatically UNLIKEd, given that they were only there because of previous parental responsibilities. Or the Messenger App blocked, due to ocassional earthquake requests, unsettling and unfooting in their simple, direct, but untimely demands.
Finding out a once was daughter has the lead in her drama group's next production, via accidental browsing of a stream. Realising another was home from university, only...
The bird landed, not with a bang but with a whimper.
Who would have thought that the poor little thing had so much to lose? She flew around the room, narrowly missing walls, windows, and draperies - but not the hands and heads of her human masters, must to their consternation.
Plop.
The whimper from the frustrated housewife echoed through the room, and she sighed as she put Pearlie-bird's favorite toy back in her cage. Then with one long glare at her feathered nemesis, she went to get a wet towel to save her favorite sweater.
Pearlie-bird, appeased, returned to...
A mysterious box was sitting on the doorstep. I mean really, the box couldn't have been more mysterious, it was meant to be mysterious. It was a dark blue, almost black, with silver question marks that sparkled all over it. Two feet on each side making a cube, it wasn't wrapped, the box itself was crafted this way, some sort of plastic that fit together tightly.
It took me ten full minutes to figure out how to open it, some sort of complicated locking mechanism that open elegantly, like a Chinese puzzle box. Inside the box was a mish mash...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. So cold. Her skin. I had to pretend she was still alive. There was no way that I could imagine she was no longer going to be waking me up with her laugh, kissing me when I refuse to get up for the alarm, tickling me when I roll back on my side and try and get a few more moments in bed, before the inevitable morning routine for work.
She was lying on her back, no longer looking at the mirrored ceiling, but deep in her thoughts. I convinced myself they...
Rose wished she'd never agreed to that picture.
The look, the provocative stare, running her hands through her hair like that? That wasn't her. How did she expect to be taken seriously as an author when her picture looked like an ad for those 1-800 numbers, the ones they put on late at night with the skimpily clad women.
Maybe she could play it off. "I write humor; it was a joke!" she'd claim. The truth was, authors got paid almost nothing to bare their souls to their readers. It didn't matter if it was humor, scifi, or even detective...
Her eyes were green.
No, not just green.
Emeralds, yet infinitely more precious.
Like the sea, though far more deep and turbulent.
Greener than freshly blossoming thyme or the scent of mown lawns in summer.
More intoxicating than the green of absynthe.
Greener than jealousy.
Greener than the grass on the other side.
They stared into the grey of me.
And I knew those eyes would never be mine.
100 feet away I watched the smugglers struggle to get over the jagged stones, collapse onto the wet sand, expel salt water from their lungs and pray to whatever gods they believed they had reached shore alive.
Frank De Libre was the youngest and most sober on the galleon. Swimming for freedom, literally. Kidnapped two years beforehand from his parent's home, watched his tutor die trying to save him.
I could see everything as the images appeared like a slide show. This was the fifth time I had undergone hypnosis and finally my lifetime of phobias had been explained.
Coincidentally,...
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...
She stood there. The first thing he noticed was the red of her heeled shoes. He always liked the color red but in that moment it repulsed him. She drifted closer to him as he peered at her through his dark rimmed frames.
“I miss you” she said through whiskey laced breath.
He stood there for a moment and let the words splash onto his face. He quickly wiped his brow removing his glasses in order to also wipe them clean. He looked at her once again and felt the urgency to grab her, to kiss her, to love her....