The conversation lasted two words:
Why?
No.
This was the conversation that I had with myself every day. It always followed the question that I asked myself after waking up from the dreams of my foolish heart. At night, in sleep, I would dream about him and the way things could be if only life were different. We could be and do amazing things together. Every night I dreamt and every day I asked.
Why?
No.
The words I held back from this daily conversation were the ones that hurt the most. They, were the truth. They were the words...
The dock at his grandfather's pond always reminded him of Imladris, the land known as Rivendell in Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. It was a beautiful place, almost magical in its pristine loveliness. He used to play here every summer, fishing off the edge, diving into the water, and climbing the nearby trees in his search for the One Ring and the forces of Sauron, who were constantly hunting him and the Ring of Power.
He journeyed beside Aragorn, fought with Gimli and Legolas, sang songs with Thorin Oakenshield and his merry band of Dwarves.
Work...
Goodnight... I didn't think I would wake up. Well, maybe I did. Seventeen pills ought to have done it. It didn't. I guess I had known that. My sophomore-year project on suicide told me that. That seventeen wasn't enough. And I shouldn't have told anyone either. I got dragged to a counselor in front of my crying father (who never cries). I got dragged to a therapist, whom, thank God, realized the insanity of my life, and my mother (who refused to talk about her issues). Maybe I would have gone a different route, used talking, anything else, other than...
He exited the train at buenos aires the sunlight hit his pale skin. The woman were all together in a group conversating about God knows what. This was his escape he was destined to make it to them by dawn. Sunlight normally would burn a hole straight through him. But the amulet his grandfather gave him protected him! the only reason he made it home was the woman on the train who kept meeting him in the bathroom every half hour to engage in the feeding process. she knew what he was and he made it known that he wasn't...
The sheep were at pasture. The air was still and crisp, silent but for the rustle of leaves and the drift of a "baa" from the content grazers.
Restless, I turned my eyes to the mountains that were the backdrop of the field, letting my eyes rove over the gray craggy slopes up to the snowy white caps that scraped at the belly of the sky. I felt the chill creep up my spine.
Adventure stretched just beyond these fences. One day, I would become more than this, more than a humble shepard. One day, I would scale those mountains...
"Psst, Mary," whispered Bishop. "Mmmmm," replied Mary, lost in dreams of debauchery. "Mary!" said Bishop, loudly, causing Jazzmin and Pony to stir. "WHAT?" was the irritated response from Mary, naked on the woven paisley bedspread. "Hey, man, got any dough in your stash box?" "No!" said Mary, rolling over, trying to regain her dream. It involved a barnyard full of chickens and Robert Plant selling hash brownies. "C'mon, babe! Don't bogart all the dough!"
"FUCK!" snapped Mary, forcing herself upright. She rolled off the mattress onto the floor -- a five-inch drop, since the mattress was on the floor. "What...
Smile for the camera
He was of an age when he knew he didn't want snatches of reality - no, no, reality was already all around him, he'd had more than enough reality.
He wanted a false joy, the kind of happiness only captured in an instamatic, the image that would was all at once meaningless and meaningful.
In later life he'd write for hours on end about the false smiles that don't reach the eyes, about what those expressions really mean, what's really going on beneath the surface, the realities that can be extracted from the falsehoods.
But -...
£18000. That's all it would take. But it was more than Charles had, that was certain. He gazed in wonder at that glossy, dog-eared magazine page. Awe, even. He had been looking at that same page every morning for the past fourteen years and with a sigh he would fold the mag shut and let it sit on his lap and lean his head back and rock. The rocking chair had belonged to his father. That was the only thing of his father's that he ever got. The cancer got him, a few years earlier. The rest of the family...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She was looking at her mother, who cried silently.
This young girl wasn't sure why her mother cried, and she was afraid to find out. The last time she found her mother in an emotional state, she was chastised for interfering.
But, Amy couldn't help but look at her mother as she shed tears. In front of her was a plate with nothing but crumbs, a coffee mug, a notebook, and a vase with flowers. From the looks of things, Amy's mother was enjoying a snack....
The train accident was something I'd never seen before. People scattered amiss the wreckage, with nothing to do but survey the damage they'd just been witness too.
I saw the train crew carry away a few body, the names of which I only know of Carol and Robert. I did not know them, but I imagine they were married. A young couple going West to celebrate their new uniformed love. Carol could have been pregnant, ready to start a family. And it all ended for them in just a few second.
The word going around is that this was caused...