I'm waiting in the emergency room. Fluorescent lights illuminate the sickly sterile floor, casting ghoulish reflections on the wall. The woman next to me coughs, and I shirk back.
"Sampson, Lila?" A plainly pleasant voice calls out. I blink before I get up.
The soles of my shoes stick to the floor, slick with residual cleaning fluid. My fingers have fallen asleep, pinpricks careen up through the tips.
"How is he doing," I ask, feeling disembodied. "Has it grown back?"
Goodnight. That's what I said to Jim, my innocent husband. He loved me so much, we had been married a year. I resembled his mom in appearance, I noticed this the first time I met her. She wasn't much on housework and I loved keeping my little apartment spotless, homely. Jim couldn't get enough of me and overlooked my flirting, drinking, strange absences during our dating years as he was busy saving money for our future.
After I drove off in my red sports car after waving to Jim, I met up with Dan. If you saw him you'd wonder...
He looked upwards. My goodness - it was high! What would he feel like under these arched ceilings, dwarfed by the massive columns and enclosed within the brick and stonework of this enormous building? A cold wind blew between the arches and pieces of litter fluttered by.
But to gain entrance to this place he knew that first he had to pass the exam. And he knew he had not prepared enough, not worked hard enough, not learnt the texts by heart as he should. He had been too busy with other things; eating and drinking, loving and sleeping, singing...
In the springtime of our country's bicentennial. Two young lovers discovered a large rock, that was weathered in such a way to resemble a table. Underneath this table was a mason jar and in that jar a note was held. This is what it read:
Certainties are immutable, this I know to be true. A firm handshake and jolly pat-on-the-back for a job well done. These over-indulgences of manufactured ardor get old. I was never about love, just understanding. Something that can't be quantified in perceived notions from three hundred years ago.
So I post my stake. I make my...
In 1921, he flew from the Great Rift Valley. Ever since then, Luke had been a hero, from New York to San Francisco to everywhere in between, he was known for conquering the seemingly impossible laws of physics and flying from the valley. But he didn't reverie in his fame. Instead, he settled down in Castor, Arizona, keeping a simple life tending to sheep and cattle for the local farmers. Ince in a while, a television crew would show up and he would dissapear for a while; no one knew where he went. Except for me. I knew exactly where...
She'd have preferred the electric chair to spending another night at her mother-in-law's cottage.
the mother in law doted and fussed over her son, as if he was a newborn. She made all the meals and cleaned everything and once she caught her wiping the mustard from his chin.
"Oh, I'll make the hotdogs, dear," she said. "Andrew likes them a special way. Wouldn't want you to waste all that time and not have them turn out. Why don't you go lay on the sand and get some sun. You could use it, you seem frightfully pale."
Emily forced a...
All Maggie wanted was to get home and curl up with Roger and a cup of tea. Seemingly just as frustrated as she was, the strangely cat-like Roger seemed to hiss from his carrier. Maggie just groaned.
Honestly, how much work could it possibly be to ensure the stuffed animals, flower seeds, scarves, and ceramic knick-knacks she'd purchased for the family didn't contain bombs of any kind?! Truly, Maggie just wondered if they were seeing how far they could push a frazzled looking woman with glasses and a dog carrier. How intimidating could she possibly look? "I never even got...
to feel the moss of the forest floor - this was her favorite. she would bend down periodically, just to caress the soft verdant covering. when she came upon a cluster of burgeoning ferns, she reached and ran them through her fingers like she would strands of a lover's hair. she loved the forest quite as much, and found spending time in it much more peaceful than time passed with any lover she'd ever known. the sun-dappled ground. the falling leaves led in a gentle dance by the breezes. the sight of it all renewed her spirit, in the way...
He set the bowl before her. Watched her lick up the milk, drops sticking to the whiskers, few stains already down her soft black velvet catsuit.
Bob had never imagined getting into the cat scene until that fateful day outside the store where he'd gone to buy his usual six bars of chocolate, four multibags of potato chips and a crate of beer.
Outside he noticed an attractive young man with long fair hair holding two leads, each one had a beautiful girl at the end, dressed as cats.
Bob dropped his bags of shopping in surprise and never bothered...
The maple leaves will change and fall with a certain grace – November will begin. The world outside my window will be shades of red and gold. Snow, a few days later, gracing the last few leaves on the branches. My mind will wander to that one autumn, the last time I ever saw that face. The muscular arms without tattoos; brown hair, blue eyes. It was my birthday. The autumn before that I spent the night at his downtown apartment. Same brown hair and blue eyes, tattoo-less arms. Genuine smile and honest words. This autumn will not be like...