"It's meant to get better."
He looked at the empty glass in front of him, studied the bottom, as if it was going to promise him that it would get better.
It didn't. It also didn't refill itself.
"It will."
He glanced up - of course, he could, at least, rely on his best friend.
Well. One of them. Since the other one had -
That glass was still empty. That could cause a problem.
"She's still gone."
"That isn't going to change."
This paticular best friend may prove to be useless - oh, no, wait, he was hailing the...
The results were in. Now all I had to do was decide whether to go and get them. They wouldn't tell me over the phone, despite my rather pathetic begging. It wasn't done, it wasn't their procedure. It had to be done face to face.
I doubted that good news would have to be done face to face. If it was good news surely they would have said, "It's good news, you don't have to worry any more, you don't have it."
Because that was easy. I would be delighted, of course, and the person on the other end of...
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...
In a world where walking was obsolete, Pat often wondered what the ground would feel like beneath his feet. Would it be spongy and soft, giving just a little with each step? Perhaps it was cold and hard, slippery like ice. Sure, hovering about everywhere was convenient and not at all physically demanding, but he longed for his feet to, just once, touch the earth below him.
Everybody knew, though, that if you touched the ground, you'd instantly explode. Pat didn't feel like exploding any time soon, so he just kept on floating. Damn those scientists and their exploding topsoil...
"This is incredibly boring," she thought. Staring at her toes, watching them blend into the linoleum was making her dizzy. Not dizzy dizzy, but eyes-start-crossing dizzy. Elisabeth had to raise her head before she was caught in the vortex of double perception and lightheadedness.
As her eyes refocused on the normal plane, she recognized her father, alive, recov
The sights were beautiful, made even more wonderful by the pair of strong, protective arms wrapping around me as we sat looking ever the lake. The night air was cool on my skin and so very refreshing. I allowed myself to melt in his arms as his breath kept a steady rhythm adding to the song of the summer evening. The soft chirping of birds, the gentle whipsering breeze dancing through the trees and playing with my hair, the quiet clapping of the water in front of us - all of this combined in the most magical way to create...
"I'm sorry." I dropped everything I was holding, and sat on the ground. Why did everything I love, fall through the spaces between my fingers like it was nothing. My kitchen floor felt cool, and I scratched my fingers across the tile, my stomach was beginning to feel sick. This had all moved too quickly, so I got up and sprinted to the bathroom. I thought I would vomit immediately, but it wasn't until I flashed back to every word people had said about where he had been, that made me release everything in my stomach. I didn't want to...
Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
"Yes, Ms. Clark?" The professor deadpanned, "You have something you'd like to add?"
Rebecca tugged on her shirt slightly and took a deep breath.
"Yes, I do." She felt her cheeks turn red, "That's is wrong."
"Wrong?" Rebecca hated this guy and she took secret pleasure as he looked wildly at the board, searching for his error, "I don't see anything wrong here."
"It's in the first line." She felt like a hero even though her voice was shaky.
"Oh, I...
It was a pleasure to burn.
All things, it was.
Paper. Incense. Even skin.
Yes, especially skin.
They all had particular smells- those things which he burned. Paper smelled of ash and dried, hot trees, as in the desert, the heat so thick and juicy you could drink it, pour it inside of you, fill yourself with warmth in a way which standing in front of a fire, rubbing your hands together did not even thouch.
Incense- he supposed it ought to be different, depending on the smell. He only ever bought sandalwood, nothing else and so he didn't...
Birds. So many birds. I mean, I like birds, I guess...but not these birds. These birds were dropping doo-doo on my head. Twice. It's a freak accident of one singel bird drops doo-doo on your head, but three? Three piles of doo-doo? In my hair? This will not go unpuncished. I called my dad, he seems to know how to get rid of every annoying animal out there. " Dad", I said when he answed the phone, "Dad, I;ve got a bird problem in my yard. They're doo-doo machines! Every time I walk out pf my house, especially on Fridays,...