I haven’t had any nightmares since my sister was locked up. Now I have it all because I killed him. But it was all a mistake.
The air around me turned into ice. My body felt as though it was weighted by meteorites. I lifted my throbbing head as my eyes trailed around my surroundings: a stone-cold room with fluorescent lights that smelled like sadness. I tried wiggling my hands, only being greeted by a rustle of platinum chains. This does not look like Washington. Where am I? Who would capture me? I did nothing wrong. Not since him.
“Diana...
"So, did your dog eat your homework?"
"No... You won't believe me so it doesn't matter anyway."
"You always have had a vivid imagination. Which I take pains to appreciate. Go ahead. Why weren't you able to prepare for the test?"
"I had been studying for thirty minutes - which is why I aced the radicands portion - when all the sudden there was a rumbling groaning sound from next door. I couldn't focus. I looked outside my window and across the alleyway was a huge green bass flopping about screaming."
"Uh?"
For a change I was ok about Carl's clothes this month. Blue was perfectly acceptable compared to the horror of April - canary yellow. He's a bit weird, my fiance. It was a sort of take on color psychology but relating to months of the year, something he read in a kooky astroglogy book. My mother wouldn't let him into the house in February as purple reminded her of a childhood trauma she was still receiving therapy for.
Carl was also into UFO's, The Illuminati, Ley Lines, Quantum Jumping (he believed he had a double living in China who was...
Whatever made me want to be here? The thump, thump, thump kept repeating, as one song blended into another.
"This isn't music." I muttered to myself. Then I turned to glance across the bar and realized the "music" didn't matter.
There she was. She smiled at me, and I felt alive again. As she wandered my way pushing through the packed disco, I felt a nervous excitement begin to grow in side my stomach. I wished I'd had fewer Millers that night; I didn't want to sound wasted when we began talking.
"Hey there," I began.
“Ready, set, GO! “ The Church Director shouted as the children scurried everywhere picking up multicolored Easter eggs. The church lawn was scattered with a rainbow of plastic eggs, and the soft yellow, blue, pink, orange, and green pastel colors glimmered in the warm sunlight. Laughter and screams of small children filled the air as their grubby little hands fought over the eggs, which were filled with such things as candy and small prizes like green Army men.
“It’s MINE!” a small voice yelled over the crowd.
“No, it’s MINE!” a bigger voice roared, as a large hand grabbed at...
Running from the swarm of bees, Roger kept his eyes firmly ahead knowing he'd be able to jump into the river, swim underwater, get away.
Later that day, sipping Earl Grey tea, spreading deep red strawberry jam onto his wife's freshly baked scones, he couldn't believe he'd just survived such an ordeal. The yeasty aroma from bread in the oven, strong coffee and the whiff of the floor polish made everything so damn ordinary and routine, yet he could have been sipping hospital tea through a straw, face wrapped in bandages.
It wasn't the best idea to disturb the hive...
“They’ve been sat still for 38 minutes. It’s clear they’ve just dug in to defend their flag. I say…”
“You say…” 117 interrupted his Squad Leader, who couldn’t have looked more pissed.
“John, enough of your shit!” He slid a finger across his throat in what he knew would be a futile gesture. “We’ve got the same tacticals as Red Team. We have the same number of cadets. They're boxed in. I say…”
117 coughed. “You say… er… Sir.” I think he genuinely tried not to sound insubordinate. He failed.
“All right, soon to be ‘ex’ cadet. Out with it.”...
The spotlight travelled the circumference of the room in search of a victim, looking to curb its own discomfort by persuading the unwanted attention on to another. Beneath its bright glare the chosen individual trebled and froze, as if caught in headlights. Then, becoming aware of the line of eyes, the press of bodies – waiting, watching, for her to spring into action, to move, to come alive – she lifted her arms, stretching them out, inhaling deeply.
Her performance opened with a slow dance, the words of a song low and soft on her breath, barely above a whisper....
The conversation lasted two words. I survived.
That's what I usually told my girlfriends when they decided to end it with me after trying to deal with my post traumatic stress disorder. Those that began in 'rescuer mode' soon realised I was too much for them. The others that either were in lust with me or maybe after my money decided they would put up with anything if it was worth their while. But they all gave up in the end.
The recurring nightmare felt so real. Long empty corridor, bare walls and concrete floor. I saw him approach, tall,...
The day went well. Lots of talk about what we could've done and could've been. Smiles and twinkles led to hugs then kisses.
Memories were relived and sighs..."You know, you had me at Ox Bow Lake. I knew it had to be you. A little maturity in your face, the hair's a little shorter. But the lake's name made me really hear your voice, and that hadn't changed in 40 years."
I always wanted more than we had had...