The fat girl at Kentucky Fried Chicken touched my forehead with the palm of her hand. Her skin was oily and she had pimples. There was a green fungus growing on one armpit and I knew that when she was in junior high, she played the trombone. But I let her touch me anyway.
"You are not where you belong," she said. "You are not doing what you are meant to do."
"What am I meant to do?" I asked. "I know it's not to be a porn star because that would mean getting laid and that is something I...
Standing along the shoreline was different. I took a deep breath as the gentle breeze blow passed me. I couldn't believe that this was my new home. It was so different from the tall buildings of the city. The water danced along my feet as the tide came in. I walked up to the dock and noticed how old it was. The boards had become worn and water logged. It would need to be replaced soon. I noted that I would have to tell my dad when he got here. Carefully, I climbed up onto the rickety dock and walked...
She cradled the faun's head as it mewed pathetically, legs shaking as it attempted to get up.
"Shh," she cooed to it softly, running her hands down it's glossy coat.
"What is it?" A small voice spoke behind her, making her turn and open up her arms to the small girl stood nervously at the edge of the clearing.
"That's a baby deer." Another voice answered, the familiar form of her husband appearing behind the small child. "It's the first one I've seen for around forty years."
"Are they from before the war?" The small girl asked as she approached...
Kids cuddle everything and aren't afraid of anything. One time, I fell asleep, and woke up in the arms of a toad. Another time, I was dreaming and thought I had received a personal relationship with non-Euclidian geometry, but in reality, I had been eaten by an alligator. Oh well, third time's the charm, right? How many snuggle-happy toads and princess-devouring alligators can there really be in the world? The odds against ever encountering such a thing are astronomically low, even in the soft, cottony arms of a drug-induced stupor.
They say that dreams are messages from God, and I...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
Surprisingly, I don't mind all that much. It's much calmer out here in the abyss. There's a strange peace that comes with being nothing. Or, rather, not being. There is a difference, you see.
Because I am not, I am able to not be wherever I like. And I am not in the middle of everything.
While I was alive, I loved stories. Stories were incredible things. I would look for them everywhere-- music, movies, books, newspapers,...
The moment she walked into the room, I knew I was in for a wild time. Dressed to the nines, head to toe in the most wonderfully tailored bespoke suit, wingtips made from the most exquisite black leather.
She wanted me to find her sister. She had gone missing months back, and recently, the client found evidence that she was still alive. The police didn't want to look into it, said that the case was closed. The sister had ties to the mob. I got out my gun, and went to the hideout she told me about. Apparently, they were...
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...
"You just have to reach."
There was no response. I looked down at Bunny, who had reached a moment before and felt the horror of the moment. He had returned to the down. He was nothing more then the fluff he was filled with any more.
I couldn't reach him, and he could no longer reach me.
We'd been together for so long, and I thought I knew him. But there it was. He was looking down, just a little to the side, and the black buttons of his eyes were no longer bright and interested, but simply buttons.
"Please,"...
Nothing is more terrifyingly beautiful than the intensity of a woman's Stare.
Not a gaze or a glace, but a Stare. One that lasts longer than a couple
seconds but no longer than a minute. The kind that cuts its way through
you, making you feel more- and at the same time, less- secure in your
strength as a man.
" what do you want, more than anything int he world?" The woman asked me.
"I want my daughter back" I said.
She did not ask where she was or what had happened to her. She did not ask how old she was, or what her name was. She just nodded, opened her hand, and blew a handful of glitter over me. Glitter in my coffee, glitter in my hair.
I was suddenly angry. Stupid crazy woman. She didn't know me. She didn't know Cindy. She had no idea that my little girl was locked in a coma so deep...