It was all good and well having a goal in life. Knowing your purpose.
He had known his for years, he had worked tirelessly day in, day out, for fifteen years, putting his dominoes in place so that he would be able to topple them at the exact moment.
But everyone needs a day off.
It mocks me. Here I stand, paralyzed, unable to push. The button brings me to the lobby, and out the lobby doors... So I cannot push the button. However, clearly I must push it. I can hardly stand in the elevator forever, at most a few days, after all, I would dehydrate and die. So, I must push the button. Yet, I don't. Indecision has clamped my body in irons. "DOWN" it says, and indeed, where I would go after pushing the button is down. I have always been unable to decide, in fact, 'indecision' is a word that one...
"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 sun set. My boat had stopped drifting. The Delaware River between New Jersey and Pennsylvania was calm. The rain stopped, the crickets chirped, happy with the still summer air. My bathingsuit was finally dry. The only problem with that river is not having shelter on either side from a rainstorm. I watched the residents of the river banks put umbrellas over their heads while grilling. Some took their dogs and children inside. The teenagers laughed, and had mud fights. The rain stopped, the grillers closed their umbrellas, the dogs came out to play, and the teenagers stuck their feet...
He stood inside the pen, staring out at the approaching truck warily. It was a large vehicle, blood red with a black stripe down the center and dust billowing out behind it as it drove down the dirt road. Slowly, the truck came to park outside of the house and the driver's side door opened.
There came a grunt as a black wheelchair was pulled out and onto the ground. The dog's tail immediately began to wag as he saw the sandy-haired man open the chair, then plop a cushion into the seat. Another grunt and the broad-shouldered man was...
Pixie dust. I didn't think it existed before now. Until I experienced it firsthand. I had floated a few feet above the ground, spinning and whirling. Everything was different now. And beautiful. It shimmers and looks like gold sparkles. But it's not, it's so much more special. Fairies are real. Pixie dust is real. Take a closer look around you, you'll see it too.
You know how people always use that metaphor of how an iceberg shows a small portion of the story, but the ice travels much deeper underneath? I was quite literally experiencing that right then. Both externally and internally. My chest was burning for air and my body was thrashing up against the coarse underneath of the ice pool. I didn't care that my eyes were stinging or the water in my mouth was gushing down my throat. What may have been a beautiful glistening lake was now a dark trench of terror. I had never known what snow was like...
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...
Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. He'd told his parents he wanted to move out now. He'd found a job, found an adult advocate, and had surprised himself by finding an actual handicap accessible apartment in Savannah.
But, then came the guilt. "Haven't I taken good care of you?" his mother asked. "What did I do?" Her dark eyes shone with pain, but he couldn't decide if it was real or feigned.
"Yes, mama," he said wearily. "You've taken great care of me. Just like any nurse would.' He eyed her as he...
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...