I fumbled about with my phone, waiting. She was going to be late, but I was always early. Damn nature and nurture. Or is it nurture and nature? What the hell, man. Concentrate.
She went to Northern Illinois. She got a degree in English and is currently working as a barista. God, what a stereotype.
It's ok, get out of your comfort zone.
Ok, I think that's her. Is that her? No, no. The picture of her didn't look like that. I am way too overdressed for this place.
And I hate tea. Why did I get tea? Should I...
The year was 1986 and I was 10 years old living in south Louisiana. My family had been living in Louisiana for generations and we had a long proud history in the area. I grew up in a little berg call Bayou Pigeon. The distinct accent of south Louisiana had missed me due to watching too much television and alot of speech therapy when I was younger.
School was like any other area of the country. You go to school all day, work hard, have a nice recess, deal with your share of bullies, laugh with you friends. When you...
The detective sighed and adjusted the Stetson balanced on his head, fingers rubbing the brim lightly. "Where're the survivors?" he asked, looking over to his deputy. "They're over that way. Shaken up, but there were more survivors than deaths." he replied, gesturing down the tracks to a small mob of people milling alongside the derailed train. The detective nodded. The crash was most likely an accident, but the police had to investigate anyway.
He staggered down the embankment dotted with scraggly sage to the wreck. The red dust of the desert clay had been kicked up in the skidding crash,...
Lionel Richie was running naked down the street.
We saw him while driving to the donut shop. At first, I didn't think it was Lionel. Last time I saw him was grandma's birthday. He was there singing "Dancing on the ceiling." He actually tried dancing on the ceiling but then he fell down and hurt his little head. The police blamed it on gravity. But that's another story.
I had Mike stop the car. Then we both got out. We ran up alongside Lionel, who was running naked through Mrs. Benson's rosebushes. There were thorns embedded in his buttocks.
"Hey,"...
Potatoes. All she could think of were potatoes. Since going on this diet, she was even dreaming about potatoes. Chips, drenched in vinegar; jacket potatoes filled with cheese; mashed potatoes; roast potatoes; any kind of potato. She was obsessed.
Every diet book had drilled it into her that carbs are bad, so if she was to drop two dress sizes before her best friend's wedding then potatoes were strictly forbidden.
She was excited about being bridesmaid, she really was. It was such an honour, though not totally unexpected, she and Haley had been friends since preschool. It was only natural...
"I don't care if I get wet!"
Eric snatched at her hand, but Angel quickly pulled away. She let her hand extend beyond the umbrella's translucent canopy, its special shielding against radiation and chemical contaminants having been turned off despite Eric's warnings.
"You can't do that!" he cried.
"Why not?" she said. "It's been years since the fallout. Why use this stupid shield anyway? What difference does it make if things APPEAR normal?"
Tears streaked her lover's face, but he said nothing.
Disgusted with the futility of it all, she hit another button on the handle and turned off his...
I didn't see my first Lighthouse until I was 28 years old. When I did though it had the same sense of mystery and power that you always imagined Lighthouses to have from reading stories and poems in which The Lighthouse was the start attraction of the piece, seeming to not only guide ships in the night but hold the mysteries of the sea. I wasn't the only one to be so impressed with my first Lighthouse having to fight for a space against its tall walls to have my picture taken, alongside various other tourists, who'd made the trek...
The note on her mirror, written in femme-fatale-red lipstick, a shade she had bought but never been courageous enough to wear out of the house, said to meet on the roof at midnight.
The windows were closed and the door was locked. The recent humidity expanded the cheap wood door, causing it to stick in the frame and she could never open it without Mrs. Montgomery sticking her head out of the next apartment and telling her to keep it down.
So whoever came in didn't come in that way.
Lucy walked through all the rooms again, checking the windows,...
I don't even notice as he walks up behind me and presses something into my hand. "See you later," and he's gone. I open my palm and see the huge plastic easter egg that he gave me. It's a light purple and blank, no clues. Carefully, hopefully, I open it up. "Please, please let there be a note inside. Please." I pop it open and look inside. Nothing. But it's not empty. It's full of disappointment. Disappointment and a single tear.
I could hear it whipping in the wind outside my bedroom; his coat that was left on the laundry line to hang dry. You can't leave clothes out on a line when it's winter in New York; 'specially the mountains. The cuffs and the buttons froze when I finally had the courage to get it. A crow sat on the line right by it and cawed when I went to release the jacket from the clothespins.
I brought it into my mama, who told me he aint' never comin' back to Saranac. It's sad, you know, that he left her....