I stare up into the sky, watching all the birds fly by.
Someday I'm gonna fly too.
My balloons float, why can't I?
I'm just a girl, I'm not special like you.
You flew and I want to fly after.
Not yet, but someday.
My head sighs but my heart beats faster.
I'll find a way.
The quality of the sex we were having in the wheat field is indescribable. It was better than any sex that I have had before. The sex would make the toes of a dead woman curl. It was great sex. I am quite certain you'd be jealous if I went into any lurid details about the sex that we were having in the wheat field, her legs up in the air, me doing things that you have only read about in books. The sex was great. It was not just great, it was amazing. This was amazing sex.
We were...
She was so happy. Hiding from her friends. She'd always liked this game, hide and seek. She hid in the doorway to the back of her house in her new red gown her mother had saved money for months to buy. As much as she liked hiding, she felt so proud in this red dress that she wanted to run out and show off her new dress to her friends some more, but they all seemed to be more interested in the game. As she crouched in the doorway, she noticed a little bug crawling on her gown. She screamed...
It was the fall that surprised me the most. Three steps backward, and then that horrible feeling of stomach-in-throat, where time passes normally but feels like an eternity; seconds equaled hours as I prepared myself for the eventual landing; just as I thought I was ready, more time would pass.
All told, I was probably lacking contact with the ground for no longer than a fraction of a second, but just like in the movies, the fall felt like a slow-motion ordeal--it was as if the air were made of liquid and I was lighter than normal, but still heavy...
The bear was furious. He could no longer spot where the rabbit had gone. In the New World Order, this was something that rarely happened anymore.
"Aggghhhh!" he roared has he ripped the nearby tendril tree from it's root. The weasels would have to spend a day replanting the tree, but Ferfar didn't care. He would be in much deeper trouble for losing the Silver Velveteen rabbit. There were only 12 of them left in the rabbit warren out of hundreds of white Cottontails, which were the pride of this part of the Order anyway. Perhaps it was because they...
Potatoes. They were on my plate at dinner. I ate them. They tasted fine. After dinner I went to the bookstore and thought of you. I think of you there most, though we never shared our favorite books with each other. I don't know if you like Tolstoy or Camus, Kurt Vonnegut or George Orwell. But I think of you most often at the bookstore. Or the library. Anywhere with a million stories and possibilities between fresh and aging paper. I think of us that way, a million possibilities; a story waiting to be written or read. A story to...
A flash of red. A tiny girl huddled in a doorway, solace from the stinging wind. She was alone, completely alone, in a place that used to hold hundreds of thousands. Grey as far as the eye could see, except for that beautiful red dress. It was a gift from her mother. The result of much whining and pleading on her part, and saving and scrounging on the mother's. 3 days ago, on her birthday, she had opened the ornately wrapped package to discover it. She was so happy.
It was full of bees! They emerged with a furious buzz, attacking her and stinging her ruthlessly. In a state of unreasoning terror, she fled, running up the stairs to the bedroom. She quickly locked the door behind her, isolating herself from the malevolent insects.
Left to their own devices, the bees zipped around the house, gathering any valuables they could find, and vandalizing everything else. They smashed dishes, burned furniture, stole silverware and broke windows. Laughing in their mysterious, buzzing tongue, they delivered a bee-related pun, and flew away, never to return.
"What can't you just try to understand?" I couldn't say how many times I hurled those words at someone. My parents, siblings, friends, just about everyone. Each time the words would leave my mouth, they would leave me curled up in a corner somewhere dark and quiet, my heart throbbing and bleeding and aching as I try to stop my tears. But eventually I would let them fall. Tears are really quite good at washing the blood from my heart. The wounds never really heal but they scab over and leave scars that I know will be opened again if...