You can count me out, I said. I am not doing it. No. I left this years ago. I have a life now, I told them. No more of this stuff for me- I'm out now.
Of course, they pleaded. They always do. But I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders in movements perfected over the years. Please, please, please! We'll give you anything you want.
Never any creativity, really. It was all the same thing. They were small. They wanted to be big. How did their little prods affect me? They were merely molehills aspiring to be mountains,...
Okay, I needed to think. If I went left I would definetly be caught. If I went right, I would also be caught. But if I went straight ahead... I would be an open target. I had no other choice. I looked to the left and to the right, readied myself, and took off. I sprinted as fast as I could acrossc the open field and up the hill to where the man was standing, waiting to collect my information. As I ran, I could hear shouts from behind me but, since the snipers could not recognize me, I was...
"You stink," said Martin.
"I do?" said Candice.
"Yes. You smell like eggs and old V8 and goose turds and a garbage dump and Count Chocula."
"Oh," said Candice. "Maybe I've been eating too much garlic."
"Here," said Martin, pulling out the garden hose. "I will shower you."
On went the hose. Candice was soaked. She shrieked. The water soaked her wedding dress, the white leather couch, the white carpet, and her two Corgis - Bill and Lem.
"Now I'm all wet," said Candice, peeling off her dress. She was now naked on the couch.
Martin stuck his nose in...
The wall is the place most people choose on their own. You come for a day or a week and it's never to see the sights. The sights are immaterial, and not unexpected. Temples, tea houses with dripping peremera trees hanging soot and sleek flowers over damp pollenated tables. Once thriving book shops and market warrens closed down by the proper authorities. Cab drivers who direct you round about ways and never give useful directions. None of these things are unusual, or particularly memorable. It is instead, the wall itself, that calls to you. The wall is the reason you...
My best friend is a guy called Peter and he's incredible at talking to people. He has a vault of information in his head that he's gotten from all of his past conversations with people. When he meets someone new he merely tells them what he knows so far about their hometown and then lets them build upon it, this he'll take to the next person he meets from there and so on. I was with him the other day and we were talking to a guy from south africa, we live in australia, and the guy was used to...
She was lost in a land, not exactly a physical one. She was surrounded by things that made her happy. She was floating endlessly in a world that was completely hers, and she loved it here.
Was she alone? How could she not be. Yet the silence was filled with voiced and faces. You see she could be whoever she wanted, do whatever she wanted and love whoever she wanted. As she lay there asleep but awake in this marvelous world she spotted her, in the distance. Her long brown hair not easily missed, she lay there too just waiting....
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Giving in WASN'T an option. I absolutely had to make it out of this place alive. Now, I know that no one gets through high school unscathed, but I had been observing the teenage life long enough to learn a few things. Number one: Teenagers are brutal. They will stop at nothing to ensure that they hold a place at the very top of the popularity ladder. They will back stab, manipulate, or talk their way in or out of any situation. Number two: When it comes to survival, anything goes. That's right, anything. If you need a 80% to...
The building appeared one day with only a white-haired gentleman who could have noticed. He didn't however, because he was too busy unwrapping a chocolate bar on the wooden bench he sat at every Wednesday. So only the wind grew unsettled with the sight of the 2-storied Japanese pagoda that shot into place in the middle of Central Park with only a sleek "pop" to give away it's sneak-up appearance.
Almost immediately, a black cat jumped from an overhanding willow tree into the window framed with yellow lacquer slats of wood. The man continued to peel away at the silver...
She always eats oranges in the morning. Awake at 6.30 and out at once to the fruit stall below her window. The sound of the traders' early morning banter is hazy in the grey veil of October dawn and the lines of fruit like a crown of brightly coloured gems awaiting her selection. Two precious oranges in a brown paper bag and back to her third storey apartment. When she slices into the dimpled skin of the orange its juices swell onto the kitchen counter and onto her pale fingers. Her hands are laced with the citrus scent for all...