The trip was turning into a disaster: we got lost at every turn, the food made us barf, the sites were disappointingly normal and the boisterous flow of life that had seemed so appealing when we first started teasing out the details of what a mutually enjoyable vacation would look like, all of a sudden reminded us of the very place we were trying to escape.
Today's excursion hit the last patience nerve left.
"I have to leave this place. I want my life back", I thought to myself on the bus ride back to the hell hole that sounded...
The cool water soothed her. She had to get out of the stifling heat, and the stifling company. Why she had agreed to this trip she would never know, but he had insisted.
'It will be good for us,' he said.
No, it won't, she thought. It will be sheer torture, because we both know we're flogging this horse beyond it's natural lifespan. But she packed anyway, not realising that lying beside his sweaty body would be the final nail.
She floated for a while, staring at the stars. They were bright in the cobalt-blue sky, pin prinks of brightness...
I cannot be old as were, but I'll be as old...
No springs, no machination, no burn, can retreat the circle
but the circle will come round
--not old as were
Along the shore they did not remember
Walking until their flesh and their ligaments
Wasted
No mercy for the parched
And she stood staring from behind pa(in)
And he paced
And he destroyed
And he ripped--because
This is not the girl I wanted
This is not the girl I knew
This is not the girl I ordered
Custom made behind a pa(in) of glass
Darling or darling oh darling...
They were listening. I wasn't worried though, It's not like I had anything important to say. Just knowing that they were there though, behind the thin two way mirror staring at me as if I had something to do with the disappearance of the third missing person this week. If they only knew that the worst thing that I've ever done in my life was stollen a pack of batteries from the Walmart down the street from where I grew up when I was 8. There was no convincing them otherwise now though. They saw me running from the scene...
A dry, sandy summer like this one. I had met him just a mile down, by the Shell gas station, his cowboy boots kicking up a torrid storm as he leaned against an electric pole and kicked a Pepsi can out of his way -- it rolled like a tumbling weed before coming to a halt at my sandal-wrapped toes.
I picked it up, sand and dust whirling around me, forcing themselves into the slits of my eyes. "Hey cowboy."
He looked at me and said nothing. He lured me in with absolutely nothing but an intense blue stare as...
My sleep was disturbed. I hadn't eaten after a long day trekking across the desert. Weak and faint I lay down and fell into a troubled sleep where images of food flitted through my dreams.
I hungered to eat and in lucid cravings ate all that flew towards me. My hunger so intense now I turned upon myself. I can eat myself I thought, then I will live and tomorrow I can begin again.
I felt my hot breath on my head as my mouth turned upon myself...my wet tongue licked the side of my face as though anticipating...then in...
She held the letter, tears flowing down her face. Somehow she'd known it would always come to this. That no matter how hard she tried to steer him in the right direction, he was bound and determined to go his own way, like a shopping cart with a busted wheel.
The letter was short and to the point, mostly complaining about the food. Thankfully, he wasn't hurt, though he was thrown into solitary once for fighting.
As she re-read the letter, she sobbed, for she too was confined in a prison not of her choosing.
That damn tree was going to fall on him, he just knew it.
What use was the open sky, the billowing waves of blue, or the sunlight streaking through the clouds to illuminate his path along the sandy shore, when as soon as he walked beneath that leaning palm, it would crash upon him like the hammer of fate.
Perhaps he would stay where he was. The water was cool, the breeze refreshing. If he traced his steps back, he might rediscover that berry bush and fill his belly with its sweet fruit.
But what was life without a little...
He stood outside the castle, looking in. That little fence was all that separated him from the world of imagination. For the castle was filled with magic, with kings and queens. If only he could get inside, and experience that magic for himself.
When he got older, he'd realize that there was no such thing in the castle. The outside was a beautiful facade to entertain the children, but the inside was used as a storage room.
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
"Why?" She replied.
"Just do it," he said. Both of his arms were held out, his delicate fingers rigid, there was a blue tinge descending on his normally raspberry red lips.
"Just tell me, why," she repeated. She held it gently in her hands, loose fingers, loose wrists, around waist level. She held it as if it held even less importance to her than the stock she put upon his commands.
"Why can't you just do something because I've said so?" he said, and the chill in blood became...