Stepping slowly off the train, my eyes adjusted to the black blanket that cast itself over the old town in nowhere France, about three miles from the border of Belgium. Having no clue where I was, I tried to recount the previous events by fitting each individual awkward happening side by side, hoping their grooved edges matched so as the picture might unfold as a panorama landscape in my mind. Then, and only then, I might be able to tell myself why I had woken up in the black night, on a train in a foreign country that speaks a...
The attic was stuffy, of course it should be. It is May, and they are preparing to move into a new house.
She is hunched over a box sifting through the items time seems to have forgotten.
She sees kids medals, awards and photos from the ceremonies. She finds trinkets and grade school crafts. Making sure they are in tact, and making sure she wishes to keep the memories, she places the items into the box with care.
The boys have been out of the house for years now. These items are all that pretty stays here. They have their...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. The asassin tracked the victim across the city, determined to finish his mission. He slid through the shadows, his black clothing blending perfectly with the night. Suddenly, the victim stopped. The killer was on alert at once. he lifted the 45. caliber and readied himself to pull the trigger. Suddenly, it all went black. He had been knocked to the gr
Pierce Nolan had lived in Louisiana for the last twenty years, but he had never ventured much further than the edges of the town. He had always been a quiet man, a straightforward speaker with little reservations. The small town of Barkridge was where he maintained his practice, dealing mostly with the local people and their problems. It was not for the most part an exciting life, but it was comfortable enough. That morning Pierce left for work at the same time he always did, 8am sharp. He said goodbye to his wife Velma, and soon jumped aboard the 802...
Marchiel was wondering again. Wondering what Francis was up to. He was awfully quiet in the living room. She had left him alone for less than ten minutes to fold the laundry. He had been building towers contentedly, block by purposely placed block. But now it was awfully silent. When she got back into the living room the sliding door was open, and her 4 year old was no longer building with blocks. Marchiel raced to the door and stumbled over the thresh hold, as Francis, his big eyes all alight stood by the tree bleeding. An uprooted rose bush...
Like a breeze through the willows, was what she was thinking. The way he passed through her life. She shrugged, thinking if all it was was a summer romance, it had star quality. Long walks on the beach, starlit nights, hand-holding over glasses of wine at the little Italian restaurant long after the staff wanted to leave. They had so much together; they had seemed to be so connected.
And then he was gone. She had gone to his beach house that morning, the air starting to chill a bit with the coming of fall. The door was unlocked, and...
Ridiculous. This whole argument was absurd but we were going to have it anyway.
"If you heard it, why didn't you pick it up?"
She looked honestly confused but it seemed obvious to me. I scowled at her. "Why is this such a big deal? Yeah, I heard you drop it but I didn't know it was meant for me."
"Did you think it was trash?" Exasperation now threaded her voice and her arched eyebrow told me there was no way I was going to win this one.
"Well, I certainly didn't think it was some super-secret message that I...
"Wait, so he hit you?" "Yes, he did! I couldn't believe it! I was just waiting in line for a pink slime burger and then..bam!" Lucky for me, it bouinced off my ripplig shoulder museles and I felt nothing. But still, I mean, he hit me! First off, I ddn;t even know this guy. I think it all started when I walked into the restauraut. I walked past his table and I heard him say, "Yeah, you're right. Justin Beiber is HORRIBLE!" I stopepd in my tracks. I pulled up a chair and sat right next to this monster. I...
Sometimes I am shocked at the state of America today. The young people just have not respect - no decency at all. They go around and do whatever they wish - guided, though, not by their wishes but by the pulsing masses. Every time that I see it I am disgusted. I see it and shrink. I don't understand it entirely. But this one thing is like my only weakness. Maybe I am like them. I just following a whim of someone else - or something. I'd like to think that I could have a justification for something that hits...