He exited the train at Buenos Aires, and was glad to leave the station with its oppressive heat and even worse humidity. He eagerly sought fresh air, but was disappointed; the air conditioning in the station might have been primitive, but it was better than the heat of the blazing sun.
Despite his best efforts, he shivered uncontrollably. "I need a damn drink!" he muttered, and turned in search of a bar. He entered the first one he came to, and slumped at a table, calling for a beer, which the bar tender brought to him reluctantly, though his attitude...
"Big wheels keep on turnin'..." Paul's hands beat on the steering wheel in time with Lynyrd Skynrd as he drove down the highway toward town. "....A Southern Man don't need him around anyhow!" he sang loudly, dancing in the driver's seat. His dark eyes shone with glee as the music pumped him up. Soon, Paul reached his destination and turned into the parking lot, waiting for the song to end.
Finally, the music stopped and Paul pulled the key from the ignition. Gradually, his heart beat returned to normal and he straightened his red tie and white Polo shirt and...
In the beginning, he tasted like rainwater: salty. Dried sweat around the rim of his mouth, a taste that clung to his mustache bristles like saltwater taffy.
In the beginning, he was rainwater, and I was a pool. Splashes hit the bottom. He said, you are a the ruin of mankind, rising to the tops of the trees. He said, you make me greedy to reach your destination like a home.
In the end, he tasted like a mountain top. Stretching high above the clouds to breathe a privileged cold. And I was a seed that could not grown on...
The old lady was in real trouble now. She did not feel the grey touch of the dark hand as it stroked her wrinkled face, marking her. It would come for her soon, the looming shadow of time, and there was nothing she could do but grow older and weaker. She sat in the back of a black car, and her destination was the foundations of the departed. Accompanying her was her sister, wearing the same black dress. Everything was the colour black today. It was the symbolic colour; the colour of the dark one. The lead weight of a...
Pulling stitches out. I can do this. it's going to fucking hurt, but I can do it. Maybe I should have eaten first, my stomach is in knots, my heart sunk. That would be the last of the food, and then I would have to brave those beasts. Those fucking beasts!
It had been about twelve months. At first, it seemed laughable. Any science experiment gone wrong in this way, shrinking of huge creatures, or extremely exaggerated growth of the tiniest usually started as a series of late night jokes.
Who would have thought that butterflies of all things would...
She could listen all day. The raspy, melancholy vocals of the demo tape was not without flaws, but in this moment, perfectly delectable. Her own voice was breathtaking to her; after all, how often did she experience a conversational sing-a-long with herself? The sound was a breath of fresh air, nothing she inhale here, in the muggy city, at her perfunctory job, or with her otherwise dull life.
This was the sound of butterflies.
She normally didn't speak up. She was the quiet, reserved type. The type who'd sit at the bar with her friends, and just silently listen to the conversation around her.
It was Julie that got her frustrated, though. Not just frustrated, angry. Julie was talking about the camp she'd sent her son to, one of those camps that promotes a more 'traditional' lifestyle. They advertised it as being 'moral' and 'healthy'.
The young woman had no children of her own, she was far too young for that. She worried that she was wrong for telling somebody else to raise their...
I walked into the restroom, and relieved myself while reading PEOPLE'S MAGAZINE. I got the latest updates on Bradalina, or Angpitt or whatever, while I was taking a dump. As I walked out my mouth gaped as I found out that Jenifer Aniston and Tom Cruise were hooking up.
TEXT:
OMG! JA and TC ARE TOTALLY HOOKING UP LOL!
L8R!
I called my BFF Malissa and told her about the latest update. After we talked for a while, she sighed and told me she really didn't care. I told her to start caring about things that really mattered in life,...
Centuries collide and we find Marie Antoinette, victim of the Today Show questions. Cue Katie Couric:
"Marie, why couldn't you give your husband a son?"
"Well, Katie, "
"No Marie! Why?"
"Katie,"
"MARIE."
"Madame Couric"
"WHO is Madame Couric? Call me Katie, now answer the question, better question, though, explain your infamous 'let them eat cake' phrase."
"..cake, hmm, cake...let them eat cake, boy these studio lights are dreadfully hot, my white face is dripping and this foot-tall wig is absolutely scorching my head."
"MS. ANTOINETTE!"
"hmm? Oh yes, let them eat cake..well"
"Get her out of here Matt. Next...
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...