What's this?
Dad showed me the picture of the orangutan splayed on the grass.
A monkey, I said.
It's you, he said.
Neither of us laughed.
Remember that time you asked me for a Coke and I stood at the soda machine filling it with Root Beer imagining Homer Simpson saying Mmmmm Root Beer?
Dad laughed.
I laughed.
It's silent most of the time now. I don't think to text and neither does he.
"Clung to" means everyone in the house knowing when I am there and when I am not. A friend is dropping off some cookies she made...
Good Lord! What is that old fool doing. He is out and about with only a tatty old dressing gown and a pair of mouldy slippers on his feet. Thank goodness - he appears to have his pjs on, under that disgusting robe. People like that should be looked after. It is disgusting how families neglect their old folk. I would hate to grow old like that - put me in a home - NO - put me down first. I would rather have euthanasia than be reduced to a quivering, brainless, incontinent wreck. Thank goodness I am still young...
"Hello" Beth said.
"Howdy!" Jacob beamed.
That was it. The same greeting they swapped every afternoon as he strolled into the building. Beth gazed at him from the reception desk as he strolled past, holding her eyes steady with the cockiest of smirks.
He knew she wanted him. She want him like they all did, only she was cute enough to maybe consider. She had that dirty-librarian look about her.
Beth watched the man continue through the lobby, leering at her. She smiled her best at him, but really saw her knife plunging into his mouth and out the back...
Her new glasses were magical. She saw the world in a whole new light. Literally. The lenses transitioned to pink shades in bright sunlight, giving her world a rosy glow like the unbridled optimism of youth. Indoors, the tint faded - though not too quickly - making her appreciate her now clearer vision.
The girl at the counter gave smiled and handed her the bill. Her credit card would hurt with this purchase, but then again...
she couldn't wait to get back outside.
She sat with her feet upon the wall. He looked at her, "You seem nervous." She stayed silent. He took out his camera and took a picture. "You know, you look like Dorothy, with those on." She sighed, "When's the last time you've seen the Wizard of Oz?" He looked down. She's never been the same since her parents died. Her father was a firefighter, but he didn't die of a fire. Neither did her mother. They died of a car. A car with one passenger. One intoxicated passenger. He went up to her and whispered, "I know it hurts."...
This dream was better than waking. I was slim. Looked beautiful in the ivory vintage silk dress Mama had worn herself. Stepping out of a two horse carriage festooned in thornless white roses. Flash of cameras. Walking down the aisle holding Papa's arm, relatives crammed in the church, sitting and standing, heads turned to watch the procession towards the altar.
I couldn't see the bridegroom's face for some reason, something often goes amiss in dreams, but I knew he must have been hadsome.
I woke at the sound of footsteps down the hall, heavy, slow, echoes reverbrating into my consciousness....
Face down on the cold floor of the cathedral, Brother Fidelis whispered his prayers. Though his lips brushed the dust and filth of the stones, his eyes were angled forward, watching the door. Though he lay in front of the altar, he faced away from it.
The flat light of dawn was pushing through the open spaces where the stained glass had been, the thin, watery edge of light creeping slowly across the burned and broken pews. There were no noises yet. The day was not far enough advanced to bring them home. When the clear light rose above the...
The sword hilt slipped from his hand as he staggered back. Leather-palmed gauntlets slick with blood, his own and that of dozens of men, could yet have gripped, had his hands the strength for it.
In the steaming corpse at his feet, the blade angled outward, once shining and ceremonial, now chipped and ruined by the armor and bone it had overcome. It had belonged to his father, to his grandfather, and to a king before that; when this was over, he thought, it would hang on his wall and never again leave his sight.
This was the last of...
Light.
Fuck light, right? Right.
Light just shows what I don't want to share, it takes away my CHOICE. Isn't that abusive or some such touchy-feely bullshit?
"Teacher? Light is taking away my choice!"
Yeah well, "teacher" would just tell me to STFU so...
Thing is...think is I, well, I crave it, yk? I crave it. I crave the light like I crave sugar or coffee (not caffeine - there's a difference).
Damn thing. Always seems to fling a little clarity at exactly what I've hidden so carefully away. I take care with my secrets hide them good. Keep them...
The problem is she was no hero; ready to cry, trouble breathing, and too many conjugations racing through her head to put anything concrete on the exam. She'd tried putting earplugs in to cut out distracting white noise in the room, but they only made it awkward when the teacher leaned down and said something.
"ca va?"
could she see the fear in her student's eyes? Smell the anxiety attack waiting to come out?
The girl hesitated, stumbled through some sounds, but settled on,
"yeah."
15 minutes passed, the exam wasn't complete when turned in.
Then I dropped out of...