Framed by white-washed plaster walls, she was a sharp contrast to the beige and grey of the street surrounding her. She reached up and brushed a stray lock of black hair from her forehead, looking over her right shoulder down the street. She was waiting, and her eyes scanned the oncoming traffic carefully, searching.
The young man across the street had stopped walking when he noticed her, a sudden burst of brilliant red against the subdued building. She never looked over at him, never stopped looking down the street at the oncoming mass of bicycles, cars, carts, trucks, and people...
The Potentate surveryed his creamsicle tower coolly.
It hadn't been his idea to build it, it was the idea of his latest duchess. It had been a stupid idea when she had begged for it, but, after she had begun to withhold her affections, he had relented.
It wasn't, you understand, that her pouting had worked on him mind, more that he had been advised by his cabinet that it would not do anything for his public image for him to behead another duchess.
Not that he fancied beheading this one, oh no, burning at the stake felt much more...
She felt like she was drowning. All around her there was water. Freezing. Churning. Flowing. Pulling her and dragging her in multiple directions. She tried to fight against it. Tried hard to kick out with her legs, pull the surface towards her with her arms. But no matter how hard she tried she didn't move, not in the direction that she wanted. It was like the water was a womb and she was trapped inside, a helpless foetus, attached.
As the oxygen in her lungs ran out, and her chest tightened so that she felt like her torso was close...
In a flash, he appeared in a busy unfamiliar street. He looked around saw people milling around various open market stands selling knickknacks and various food items. He could not focus his auditory senses to make out the language spoken around him. He stumbled forward.
His clothes were unfamiliar, people brushed passed him with disregard. He looked down at his clothes and did not recognize the ensemble. He glanced at his reflection from a shop window and did not recognize the person.
Confusion and fear sets in. He suddenly felt light headed and could not catch his breath. Fear and...
She would never use a sippy cup for wine. She just wouldn't. And not because the other mothers would smell the fermentation on her breath. Not because her eyes would gloss over as the nannies began to talk about the hockey-playing "manny" who worked with the two boys at the Sullivans. Not because she would have to hold tightly to the padded grip of the jogging stroller. It wasn't because her Rosacea gave her cheek bones a cherry hue. It had nothing to do with her morning run to the playground, the mile and half she squeezed in everyday.
She...
"I can't write something like that" I said gruffly.
It was in the darkened room as I stared upon the sunset of the days of the world.
"What are you talking about?" said the 2nd person in the room.
"Me" I said
"Just go with the prompt" said Darrin, the 3rd person.
"Okay" I sighed.
"Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway, clutching a Tec-9 in each hand. She kicked the door open and let loose a barrage of bullets. A hail of gunfire, proceeded by a red mist of blood. She went...
I danced in the circle. Just me, my friend Jeanine, and a fairy. That's right, a fairy. People who study this would call me an idiot. NEVER GO AND DANCE IN A FAIRY CIRCLE, YOU WILL DIE. Oh yeah? Screw you, I want to dance. Dancing is really fun. Especially with a fairy. But I'm kinda tired...I've been dancing for three weeks straight. I should be dead, no human can go without water for more than a week. And I'm rather sweaty. Hey Miss Fairy, can we stop dancing? Please? I just need a water break.
A game. Thats what i thought it was, thats what my father told me it was. I was a child during world war II, a jewish child. My father took us to the station to catch the train towards the camp. He told me it was an excursion. WHen we git to the camo we were seperated from mum. The uniformed men spil us in to men and women. We were taken to a store room that was turned into a bunker, when a soldier walked in. He needed a translater to translate the soldiers commands to italian as most...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. This was because I was twisting Arthur's nose instead of the lamp switch. However, this doesn't change the fact that the lamp wouldn't turn on.
"Ouch! Stop twisting my nose," Arthur said.
"Turn on the lamp," I said, twisting his nose.
"Not until you stop twisting my nose," he said. It sounded more like he said "twizdig by dose," which sounds hilarious and just made me want to twist his nose further.
"Never!" I shouted. I wasn't sure why I shouted never, but it felt like the right thing to shout. I could sense Arthur...
I lost my grip on the wheel. Well, not really. In reality, I lost my grip on everything. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The world around me became a blur of distant activity and the noise around me sounded like a conversation floating through walls from the other end of a house. The world both started in motion and went completely still in the very same second. In that moment, walking past him in the hallway, I forgot my name. All I could remember was the image of him walking to his locker that burned itself into my mind....