Im packing my bag, ready to go. Im walking to the station. Waiting for the bus.
Dear driver, surprise me where we gonna go. Take me away from here. I'm ready for new place, where I can find new life. I left my bag at station with my old memories.
I'm ready to go.
The street seller heaped chocolate bits onto the thick slice of honey bread spread thick with butter. The boy's eyes sparkled watching the sprinkles flow, not a single one falling off the side of the bread. Hans knew the boy was special and each day would make him smile.
Jan ate his breakfast sitting on the bench by the river, watching the canalboats narrowly miss the larger vessels, he loves the noise and busyness of the city. Unaware he was constantly watched and followed. After wiping fingers on his jeans, he pulled out a sketch pad and rapidly drew the...
I saw a girl press her cheek into the moldy stone column. Her arms gripped the sides in a hug. Her eyes were closed and she smiled.
I wanted to take a picture of her but then her friend arrived, a girl about her age. They were both older teens. They were American, with spots on their foreheads and chins, hair streaked with pink and blue, pale skin, and wide eyes. They giggled as the first girl, a blonde in a pink jumper kept hugging the column and hamming it up for her friend who took pictures.
I remember when...
Despite the obvious instructions, the young boy turned from the class prompt and began scribbling furiously on the sheet of lined, college-ruled paper. First an eye, then another. Two ears — no, wait, make it three — and a cruel mouth. Fangs and something like a tongue, long and sharp and forked. A ferrety neck protrudes awkwardly into shoulders and a pair of thin, hairy arms extend from these.
He squints with intention, his hand begins hurting from gripping the number two pencil so hard. A messy hand and another goes onto the page. Four fingers on one, three on...
A figure made of darkness, shadow. Silent. As I try to ignore my phantom I diligently type at my keyboard, words flow, meaningless and easy. This job is slowly driving me mad. I shiver and tell myself it has nothing to do with the shade silently observing me. How could it? There is no shade. If I were to turn, look directly at it, that would be the end. Or the beginning I suppose, rather depends on how you look at it. The end of sanity, the beginning of full fledged madness. How many years have I struggled to ignore...
Cat's pupils narrowed to slits as she glared at the falling snowflakes apprehensively. Snow, her long-time adversary, had returned at last. She'd dared to hope that after their last encounter, the freezing menace had been dealt with for good, but she knew better than rest easy.
She cautiously sniffed the air, preparing herself for battle. Snow threatened all she held dear, all that was precious and good. If Cat was unable to defeat it, it would spread over all the earth.
Her claws slid out of their sheaths; they were sharp, but not as sharp as she would like; the...
The ghosts of her past continued to haunt her.
The parents she'd disappointed, the boy she'd left behind, even the teacher who had taken her under her wing in the hopes of helping her realize her full potential. She saw them all before her as clearly as the last time she'd seen them. Their frowns, knitted brows, and downcast eyes. She hated those expressions, the disillusionment of their ideals written across them like ink on paper.
How could any of them have known her true potential? And if they had, would they have been heartened or horrified? Knowing ignorance was...
"You can count me out. There's no way I'm gonna do this." Lewis strode to the door, coat in hand. I rose up from my chair, hand outstretched.
"Wait! I'm sure we can work something out." I cried. Lewis turned his head.
"Look, I don't want to be on your silly venture, and that's final." The brilliant star light shone in through the window, casting deep shadows along Lewis' face.
"Hey! It is not silly. It's an exploration to the deepest part of this world! They say that there's treasure and fortune awaiting for those who discover it."
"So how...
I saw this gate among his Facebook photos. I long to live behind it with him. This Louisiana town was ready for us, I thought, ready for the young love, and the wild spirits we both possessed. He still visits every year; I, on the other hand, have never seen what surrounds this gate, never have I seen what lies behind it. To me, this gate is a symbol for what my life was supposed to be; a life far south of New York. A life in New Orleans. Something in my head always tells me that there is a...
He exited the train at Buenos Aires. That was as far as his ticket would take him. He wandered around the city for a while afterwards. It wasn't much, so he boarded a flight to London. The flight stewardess was pretty, but not overly so. Her hair was perfectly tied up in a bun and her lips were pink, straight out of a Barbie Doll. He smiled at her. She smiled back. That was as much as he would allow himself.
When he got off in London, he walked to where his house had been. He stared for a while...