the grand opening was boring yet it was also very romantic me and my husband had went to the opening because he knew how much i loved to study. now i know not to try to put in so much on a busy day . i had a headache from learning about the scinentific stuff in our nearby steam so i would say it was not the best day ever but not the worst . i had to go lie down because i had a compleat meltdown in the mall i just could not take it . the feeling of...
My mother was not svelte. She spent her life washing clothes, lifting children, and hauling sacks of potato and flour from the market to our small apartment in Flushing. My father frequently looked at the Sears catalog, commenting on the models within. "Why don't you look more like this one?" he would ask, as though the answer weren't obvious. My father did not look like Marlon Brando (young), and my mother did not look like Marlene Dietrich. Yet somehow, I never heard my mother ask my father why he didn't look like this one. Long suffering, some might say.
She...
She adjusted her headset and waited for the butterflies to move across the screen in 3D. They danced in front of her and then skittered away into the tall pines, Dany sighed as she heard the commentary coming through her headphones; "Buta Fliys existed until the 30th century when they were destroyed in the final neutron war along with all living creatures on earth. We recreate them for your pleasure and hope that this trailer will whet your appetite for our 3D calvalcade of the dead,
It was dark, cold. I felt the wind, colder than ice, blow into my face a large number of sharp ice crystals. "Where am i?" i thought. I walked down a hall, made completely of ice. The air was not only cold, but had a bitter smell to it: like torture and an evil queen. I walked into a throne room, by the looks of it, anyway. The only spot of color in the room was the bright yellow hood the person standing before the queen wore, and it was quickly fading. The first thing i noticed about the room...
"What'll it be?"
"Jack."
"Want ice."
"No."
The bartender pours the brown liquid into a tumbler. I wait patiently.
"First time here?"
"No."
I take a swig and end up downing the whole glass. I point down at the empty vessel. He answers my request.
"Funny, I don't remember seeing you come in here before."
The place was a empty. It was late on a Tuesday, understandable why there wasn't a crowd in here. The lights were dim and mahogany colored bar reflected what little light it could find.
"Yeah, it was a couple of months ago."
I point again....
I was twelve years old when I first sat behind the wheel. I was very nervous to drive but as I was very much into cars and always wanted to drive, I somehow had that believe in me that I could do it. People usually start learning to drive in open fields or somewhere in free areas with less cars running around, but I started my first drive in quite a busy area and I still could managed to do it. Since then I have started driving and so far luckily I have not met a big accident. I wont...
Gorgeous, yes. but pretty? No, that was reserved for young girls and poofy dresses. She was Beyond pretty. Uck, just saying it made her cringe. Pretty?
and he thought he had given a compliment.
I lay siege to it. This was war and a fast and furious assault seemed the surest course. There was a front to push forward, barriers to overcome, landmines to be defused. I was young and relentless and eager; I couldn't lose. After every foray I watched the scaffolding rise again, higher and higher and each time I tore it down, waiting for the walls to fall. Eventually I tired of the advance and retreat. New orders came. I couldn't win this battle and there were other wars to fight.
Years later I returned to that once fragile country. A...
, he assured the frightened convenience store clerk. The first thing was potato chips. He needed potato chips RIGHT NOW, he told her, or he would literally explode, because there were bombs strapped to him.
Don't worry about the bombs, he said again, trying to calm her down. But get me those potato chips quickly. I want the deep-fried sour cream-and-onion flavored type, he said, speaking slowly and enunciating so that there would be no screw-ups.
He had the advantage. She would be forced to retreat behind the counter, retrieve the bag of succulent potato chips that he knew she...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She gazed upwards towards the empty whiteness where the sky used to be. Outside, the streets were filled with people doing the same. Cars had screeched to a halt. Things were dropped, and dog leashes let go of.
The sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds - nothing was there. Only, they weren't looking just at the nothingness. All eyes had narrowed to the one dead pixel. Hanging in the sky, like a tiny afterglow of a tiny what-used-to-be.