Elsie, her name was Elsie. She was a big lass. Big arms. 'Big boned' my mum had called her, 'a rough sort', she'd said, 'stay away from her, she's trouble', she'd said. But I never listened to my mum.
I decided from the word go that I wanted to be in Elsie's gang. When I crept up to her side and said
'lo Else, can I be in your gang then?' she'd blown a big bubblegum bubble which popped right in front of my face and sneered
'you'll have to go through 'tha 'nititation beanpole'
Beanpole. I already had a...
As the Sun rose from His slumber,
She began to stir
in her little house of wood,
a coffin just for her.
Each day,
she hears them scrape
away the earth with shovels,
waiting until
finally
her final bed is done
forever for her to lay.
In the morning,
she awakes,
dead to others
yet alive in her dreams,
to the sound of falling stones
as they cover her coffin.
And, as the final stone fell,
she said a silent prayer, asking for
sweet dreams for her to keep.
And as the earth lay there,
the mound dug in the...
I've forgotten how to do this...how to just sit down, and type out my thoughts, or my feelings. I find that I'm constantly carrying my notebook around, with my favourite Pilot pens...and then I will sit, and I sit, and sit...and nothing happens anymore. In my room, in boxes and boxes, are books and books and books. Countless stacks of written word from a lifetime's worth of contemplation, emotion, trials and tribulations. But now....now I cannot seem to pick up the pen, or tap on my keyboard...it just doesn't happen. And what's most frustrating is how I am constantly thinking...
Mrs. Johnson put the Cheez Whiz in her shopping cart. There was nothing in the cart but her jar of Cheez Whiz. It sat on top of the hashmark design of the shopping cart, basking in its cheezy glory. The lid was securely fastened to the jar of Cheez Whiz but later, when someone removed it, it would pop and the jar would yield its treasure of orange cheesy paste.
Mrs. Johnson pushed her cart of Cheez Whiz through the store. People smiled at her because she was well known in her town. "I see you're buying some Cheez Whiz,"...
The blue sun gave off a cold light. The snow seemed to boil under its glare while the trees darkened at their core and whitened at their tips. In the distance I saw a small stall and it gave me pause. I looked over to my partner and he looked back at me, mirroring my confusion. As we drew closer I was convinced that hunger hallucinations had taken complete control. Nothing made sense but this stall made the least sense of all.
But at the first taste of that sweet aching cold I knew that this was real. Out in...
"If you say so," I said, feigning indifference. It was best not to commit to something that would go south in microsecond, which I suspected would happen with Jacob's escape plan.
"Let's go over it one more time," he said excitedly. "At 2100 tomorrow, I'm going to shank Billy in the kitchen. The guards will come running to take me away to solitary, like they did the last thirteen times."
"You don't have anything to shank with," I said, annoyed at his overly dramatic air. "All we're allowed are sporks made of recycled corn, or whatever this shit is." I...
Dave turned the dial up to 11. Maximum. There were only a few seconds left until the next jump, he needed to be prepared. He rembered back to basic training, all you needed was to get your stance right, place your hands either side and...
The clackson pearced the air. This was it. The heavy metallic doors slowly collapsed revealing the dark bluish purplish redish swirling void that streamed past the opening.
Dave lept.
The day after tomorrow, this will all be over. He stood, still in body if not in mind. The wind that brushed past him seemed to pause, as if considering this new obstacle, before gathering the leaves that hunched against the curb and whirling them off in a wild reel. With his head tilted as if listening to a far-off conversation, he tried to pin down the source of his unease. Raising a hand in the dim twilight, he ignored the fine tremor that shook it and re-settled the case strapped across his back. Nerves, then, and nothing to do...
Snip. Snip.
Pause.
Snip snip snip.
He squinted into the test tube. The stems of heather floated in the solution of sodium dodecyl sulfate, suspended, waiting.
Laughing at him.
Gene closed his eyes. No, he thought, not now. Not after all this. Not when I'm so close.
Flashback to the grimy street where he was born, eleventh child to a drunk and a slattern. When he dared say that he would grow up to be a scientist one day, oh how the neighborhood toughs had loved it. Another reason to pound him, day after day. "Gene, Gene the gene-machine, work...
Are you sure about this? I'm not sure if I am the only person skeptical of this? It seems that the world is changing, and people are letting others think for them. Everyday, a large amount of laws are approved. The government is a joke. Although they continue to maintain that they have a democracy, this is just not true. Voting corrupt to its core. Candidates supported by the government always win, because citizens are bribed to vote for the puppet candidate. Those who dare to challenge the government are asking for their deaths. Everyone knows about the CIA, but...