The whale thought better and steered away from the shore.
I hurled a pearly conch into the surf and dropped backwards into the sand. Fiddler crabs filled the orchestra pit, their claws grinding salt and sand into no music. Two fronds breezed an applause, each clap sounding like "mock, mock, mock."
Alone, but not alone, the silence drowned by obstinate life.
When I took the photo it was still light. Tom threw his arms around me and twirled us both around, our shrieks and laughter echoed on the mountain. Ten minutes later he was dead. Torn to pieces by an unexpected pack of hungry wolves. None of them touched me. They circled, growling but left me alone. Even when I ran to the trees and attempted to climb, slipping back down the icy bark. Ignoring screams, snowballs I managed to throw. Dragging Tom's body away they left me alone to my grief, shock, sorrow, disbelief and paralysing fear.
He ran into the room, his heart pounding and his clothes soaking wet. "How could you do this to me?" He screamed at Kelly who stood facing him with her arms crossed over her chest and wet red dress clinging to her body.
"Mark, you had a red carpet at your prom after party. DO you NOT think that thats getting a little out of hand?" Kelly responded.
"You don't know the pressure to stay in the public eye. You don't know what its been like for me for the past 6 months. I tried to stay like a normal...
Through the files, there were instances going as far back as ancient Egypt. This creature had been in the human world for centuries. Amut, the Heart Eater, fated to consume the hearts of men who were evil and corrupt.
All across time the demon roamed, scraping its existence into the memory of mankind. But something was off about this log file in particular. 'Encounter Log No. 682-426-1991' it read. Where did this page come from, though? It was not in the database, nor in any files that had been scoured previously.
It had the normal redacted information for security measures,...
I always felt like I was stuck in a bubble. Like the Pope in his vehicle. On display like the Queen of England. A goldfish in a bowl. Maybe it was my shyness or my wart on my left cheek. Maybe it was the lisp that made everyone return my greetings with a "What did you say?" Maybe it was my slumped back, the hump that made shopping for blazers so difficult.
"Who's in there?" small children would say, peering at me on a Sunday in the park. "Don't bother that nice man," their mothers would say. The mothers were...
I wonder. I really wonder. He always enjoyed pulling a fast one over me, he did. So I suppose this wasn't a surprise, even after all these years: he would have probably planned it all this time, ready to spring it over me, and watch my befuddlement. He did that all the time before, so why should he stop now?
Then again, that's probably me being paranoid. 'Ox bow lake'. What the hell does that mean? And why, on earth, did I have him- or her- there? It could be anyone of the many enemies I've made over the course...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda.
When Luke first set eyes on Matilda in the local cafe he knew it was her. It was HER. His one and true love. She just didn't know it yet...
Every day he'd see her and two months rolled on by before he introduced himself.
"Hello, my name's Luke and you are?" he asked one morning nervously.
"Matilda..." she replied cautiously.
Matilda! Oh Matilda Matilda Matilda! What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman!
A few awkward seconds ticked past.
"I um...I've seen you around and...
Captain, the family dog, had been after the neighborhood fox for weeks for scaring the hens in the middle of the night, dragging the farmer from his bed. Tigger, the Maine Coon cat, knew that he could use this to his advantage. So one night he waited for the fox in the hen house and when the fox was up to his usual mischief, Tigger pounced upon him, boxing his face and ears.
When Tigger was certain the fox was sufficiently riled, he fled to Captain's dog house, creating quite the disturbance. To see a dog chasing a fox...
The dream had been wonderful, yet it would never be real.
I am blind yet everything I experience at night is always in varying shades, or what I think are shades. I question if what I see is the same whites, blacks, red, yellow, orange, green etc and all the tones in between that everyone else can see.
I am lucky in a way that I know what to wear, I can sense the differences between shades, they have their individual feelings, sometimes I can even hear them like musical notes.
The dream last night was different in that there...
We met as usual on the roof under a blanket of stars and a full moon which gave more light than we were accustomed to at midnight.His face was pale and gaunt, his body so thin I thought if I were to grab his arm it would snap in two like a twig. I handed him the bag I held in my right hand- he cautiously took the bag with his left hand. I noticed his finger nails were long and dirty. He sat crosslegged before me,and opened the bag before quickly taking out the contents. He picked up the...