The sun had been on her body for 6 days now. Beating down on her pale skin in the Pennsylvania field. Arnold was driving by and saw something strange, and of course it smelled awful; it was 85 degrees that July 4th and he was headed to Grandma Beth's for the pig roast. He pulled his white pickup to a halt, the dust flying behind him into the hot summer air.
He hopped out, put his handkerchief to his nose and mouth, and pulled his straw hat slightly over his eyes. Arnold walked but two steps when he started gagging...
The year was 1986. She was five and happy. But she did not want to be six. There was something about six that scared her, put her on edge, made her think of grown up things like losing teeth and moving up to the next class with the mean teacher who didn’t allow her pupils to laugh during lessons.
So she came up with a plan to hide. She took her favourite toys (she was five, after all) and a little food and a carton of juice and crawled into the loft where no one ever went. There was nothing...
Absolutely ridiculous. I mean really, how could anyone expect that much of me when I'm only seventeen! So I said no, of course I'm not going to. Then the question came that I'd hoped he wouldn't ask: "why?" Oh, there are so many reasons why but I didn't tell him any of them. I didn't say anything. I just stood there telling myself not to cry, that I never could have said yes even if I wanted to. I tried to convince myself that I didn't want to say yes but I'm still not entirely sure if that's true. Well,...
They were trapped for seven days. But not seven nights? No, not seven nights. They were able to go their homes at 5 PM, but they had to report back to the avalanche at 7 AM sharp. Tim always arrived five minutes early so he could finish his coffee.
It was an unusual set-up, but one everyone could agree on. After all, who wants to be trapped for that long, and at night to boot? You'd miss all your favorite shows! Cindy couldn't miss the one about mean people trapped on an island together, which she guessed was ironic. They...
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,...
And I don't think that they are going anywhere anytime soon. Now that the 5am hour is upon me, I feel as if maybe the person standing in the corner of my room will be able to lift me out of bed. He's done it before, and today I really feel like I might need a little extra help.
My room is a very lively place; it is where I feel the safest. Not only do I do my best work in my room, but this man is in my room, like he always is, night after night. He no...
The crow sat on it's perch, silently watching the moon. It wonders how far the moon is, and if it could reach it using just it's own wings. But of course it couldn't, because he was just a bird. The crow wonders what it's like to be free, and remembers it's life before it was a bird. The crow was once a happy young boy, but he was known for his many tricks. He was a mischievous boy, and he tricked one too many people in his life. Finally, he tricked a traveling wizard out of money, and the wizard...
Yumi had been drawn back to the beach. Inside her trembling frame her soul screamed in agony, her weakened legs barely held her up. It had been one year and eight months to the hour since hell rose up and sucked away her reason to live. On that frigid silent morning the black putrid ocean came over them and then forever kept coming. The shrieking banshee cry of the tsunami alarm vibrated through her bones as she ran with baby Akiko in her grasp. The impact of the wave smashed her legs and the baby tumbled from her tender grasp....
The wind is picking up outside. It's unsesnoabley warm. The announcer on the television rattles off a list of counties that are under the warning. Leaves scuttle along the patio outside the window. There is no fear, just curiosity, a little confusion. People step outside to gander at the sky. The voice on the tube implores us to take cover, yet we continue to look out the windows. Thunder rumbles in the distance. People sit on the swing set, passing cigarettes and smiling. It is always calmest, right at this
If I had a camera every time he did something like that, I'd be winning contests. Funniest Kids, Giggling with the Stars, stuff like that.
Henry bought me the camera when the baby was six days old. He was supposed to be picking up the Chinese take-out (I loved those pancakes back then), but he stopped by the camera store. Not Wal-Mart or some big box store. No, Henry spent the extra forty-seven minutes to go to some specialty place.
I was painfully post-partum, couldn't sit without that donut, and he was buying an SLR. Like I was going to...