Ox bow lake?
I said looking at Jerry. He sat there with that evil kniving look on his face. I knew i should have stayed back, but it was a nice day out. I might as well do something else other than my western art homework.
"okay, lets adventure!"
We were walking through this area of the town that I stayed away from..... mainly because we had passed not one but SIX NO TRESSPASSING PRIVATE PROPERTY signs.
you
"C'mon its up here" he ran ahead.
we kept walking as I heard rumbling behind us, I made the mistake of turning...
Walking briskly through the grey tainted forest, beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, gaining momentum before they trickled down his sullen face. The pale moon was high in the sky, befriending twinkling stars that seemed to swirl around whenever he tried to find consolation in their presence. From far away, an owl hooted into the night.
He didn't have a hand to hold. Lost, yet not lost, he was confused. Knowing who he was, what year it was, and where he was were all facts that he had down. But he wasn't sure of his exact location. Then again,...
The men and women in reflections only meet us when we meet them. Our relationship is one only in passing and it seems like every time we are reintroduced to them, they bare a striking resemblance to ourselves. They wear the same clothes, styled their hair the same way, even brought along the same items like a bag or groceries. But I wonder if they ever feel the same way that we do. I wonder if we go to meet them they are happy and the same things that we're happy about, or struggling with the same difficulties that life...
The fiction being poured through letters that collied into words, which sit next to other words, that extend to as far as the punctuation that keeps a careful watch to make sure no one is getting too crazy, breaking the law.
And somehow, none of that becomes trivial when we start to see punctuation being used to keep the pace of my pronunciation so my eyes can scan the code and I can zone out into that little story I'm reading in my head.
So much becomes poetic if I just start to look at it a little differently. Cubes...
"You had me at 'ox bow lake'." The girl laughed, twirling a strand of silky blonde hair around her finger and leaning towards David, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her cleavage. He swallowed hard, trying to stay calm. This girl...Megan? Mary? Melissa! Anyway, she was a student, one of his students, and he knew her game. There was at least one every year, the girl who attempted to coast through university on looks alone. Invariably she would behave just like this, taking front row seats in every lecture she attended but spending more time trying to make eye contact...
From the edge of a hole in the ground, lying on his side in a pool of his own blood, Jim looked around for his arm.
Eventually his glazed eyes drifted down the side of the pit, down to the bottom, where a mess of body parts mixed together like a good gumbo.
"Is that my arm?" Jim thought about thinking.
His ears rang, buzzed, sounded like being tumbled in a wave, with the adrenaline rush of wondering if you'll break the surface or if this is it.
He looked to the tree nearby, to wear a squirrel was peeking...
One of the things about Seaburn beach is the dogs. The dogs go wild on the beach, their little eyes pop out of their heads with excitement. Many of the people on the beach have packs on them, hairy little muts discovering their inner wolf. Sometimes a dog will jump up at you, almost knock you flying, and the owner says,
'Sorry, he never usually does that.' Well.he does, of course. I didn't see the dog concerned. I didn't even see the horse. You wouldn't think I'd miss it.I'm picking up sea glass, eyesdown turned, I hear yelling, I ignore...
When I lost my mother in the store, I was only three years old. I can't remember what happened but I still wake up in a sweat most nights, an innate sense of abandonment, as though I have been on a mission to the moon, stepped outside the spaceship for a walk across the lunar landscape and left behind. Terror.
Mother never recovered from her fear. She spent the rest of my childhood in a daze from a mix of prescription pill cocktails, agrophobia and alcohol. Dangerous combinations.
She was currently in a secure medical facility, unrecognisable from the pretty...
It had to be the bumblebee parachute. I wanted one with Hello Kitty on it but Al said no. Black and yellow clashed with the sky. That was important.
Good choice, given the photograph above. Man, I thought Lady Liberty's presence was so commanding that she'd always be the focal point. Not true. It's me and Al in our parachutes.
Yep. We landed on Liberty Island and there's a whole throng of well-wishers around us. Someone asks if someone watched that old David Copperfield special where he made the Statue of Liberty disappear. Nuh uh. That was a long time...
Our city used to have one psychic, an old blonde woman who read palms and tarot out of her ground floor apartment. Her name was Liza and she spoke with a rolling California speech, peppering every other sentence with "fer sures" and "gnarlies".
Since the housing crisis, the population of palmists has grown. There is a stretch of road on Congress Street where seven women ply their trade, each operating from their own storefront. They are the only profession that seems to be growing, buying up empty retail locations.
It's worth noting that the women are just mere footsteps from...