Froniga, or Fron (as most of her US friends and relations called her) was a patient sort of soul. More in touch with her forebears than many Americans, perhaps because she was closer to her immigrant roots than most. She'd married into the "Land of the Free" as much as she had been born there, not really considering where she lived as something to define her. Maybe that was the Romany spirit showing through. She couldn't tell. She didn't care.
Of course, her attracted neighbour did present a problem. She was who she was, and it was hardly her fault...
A bubble of blood oozed around the tip as he held the blade on his thumb. The knife was unbalanced and sharp. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, he thought.
Hi. My name's Steel. Chinese Steel. I'm unbalanced and sharp. And dangerous. And cheap. And I'll probably break the first time you try to use me.
Bad metaphor, he thought. Or too good.
With a flick of his wrist, the blade bounced in the air, spinning awkwardly in a half-arc. It fell, jabbing into the ground in the middle of the circle of empty beer cans. Close enough to the...
It was the most hideous thing he'd ever seen. A tiny horror. And scaly monster. But it was his. It was theirs.
He's wondered why his wife never really showed during her pregnancy. The doctor said it wasn't unheard of, and that there were instances of women who gave birth suddenly and unexpectedly, never knowing they'd been pregnant.
Still, the thought of a pregnant, skinny woman unnerved him. He worried about his wife. She was nearly 40 and had always been as skinny as you please. In fact, the same doctor had once told her she was a "bad candidate"...
Leila blinked back tears. Focusing on the skyline and it's twinkling reflection on the water, she took a deep breath. This was such a perfect moment, she almost didn't want to spoil it. James had his arm wrapped around her, the warmth of his body comforting, the sound of his heartbeat steady. The same heart she was about to break.
"There's something I have to tell you." she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Hmm?" He wrapped her hair around his fingers, kissing the top of her head.
"I -" she stopped. She couldn't do this. How could...
The audience stared open mouthed at me. "Let's just do a thought experiment," I breezed into the debate, "and imagine that super powered people, Supers, actually exist. Telepathy, Telekinesis. Even flight. All that stuff. Imagine it was not just the subject of your lexically challenged, so called literature…"
This last bit was 'performed' as my fingers nimbly retrieved the hidden comic from a front row student's folder. The kid smiled sheepishly and impersonated a beetroot.
A voice from somewhere at the back answered him. "Then we should look in the asylums, Prof X…"
Prof X? The Mutant? That was a...
They were listening, she just knew they were. As she crept across the carpeted living room floor, she prayed that her parents wouldn't hear her. God only knows what would happen to her if they caught her trying to escape.
She made it to the front door and glanced at the darkened hallway behind her, sure that her mother would come storming into the living room at any moment. She did not.
Lacy reached out and gripped the shiny copper door knob firmly, slowly turning it clockwise. A click resounded like a gunshot in the quiet of the night, despite...
Dancing on the beach in bare feet. What a careless thing to do. You could get glass in your feet, or step on a sharp rock. And what on earth are you wearing? It's too cold out; you'll get sick. Get back in the house this minute, girls. It'll be dark, soon, anyway, and you shouldn't be out after dark. That's when the bad men come out.
Sometimes, I wish I could be like you. Innocent, with the world ahead of me. Able to do silly things like dance on the beach at sunset without worrying about the consequences. But...
It was enjoyable, this feeling. And so unaccustomed! He had come to a place in his life where so little really made him happy anymore. Leaving the store, though, despite the fact that it was a cloudy, cool day, he felt sunny on the inside. He had bought a new shirt, and he was wearing it - he decided to put it on right away, before he had even left the store. It was green - but a certain shade of green that he didn't see very often. It was his favorite color, and it had called out to him....
Seed sack in one hand and broom pole in the other, Johnny Appleseed approached a patch of freshly tilled earth. Four rows, twelve feet long each, ran parallel to one another. With the broom pole in his left hand, he faced the first row, made a hole and dropped three seeds within. He sidestepped six inches to the left, made another hole, dropped another three seeds in. At the end of the first row, Johnny briefly glanced back over his shoulder and caught a hoarding chipmunk stuffing his face with seeds from a hole he'd just sown four feet away....
There was originally only one photograph. Now there were two. Well, two halves. Incomplete. Roughly cut down the middle of the bay, neatly bisecting the bench. One was lightly discarded in a pile of "Things to do/sort."
The other was folded and refolded and bent again, then sat in a wallet. Strangely, the one that was thrown aside was the more loved. It showed regret. It showed hope. It showed Faith.
The tattered half showed bitterness, anger, loss. Odd, really as the original showed promise. Anticipation. Love. The man who captured all these strange emotions just thought they were a...