Can the dust be blown off of some that isn't tangible, something that constantly whirls through us?
She didn't have a single hand to hold, but she wasn't lost. The events leading up to her disappearing were normal enough: the first camping trip of the season with a man she utterly, and hopelessly loved, a trip up to Wisconsin to feel some more of those Midwest roots, and then, some relaxing days of looking for some work.
And that was it. That's all it took for her to disappear, and leave the internet all together. Before this, she had high...
He saw everything for the first time. Spread out before him, yes, the world was his oyster. He reached forth his hand, but unseen, as he should have known, was the wall. He could touch it, if he could just touch it. Everything he needed, the love, the comfort, the possessions, the knowledge.
The frustration didn't set in until later, but not much later. He took the time to soak it up, to breathe it in, to become accustomed to his surroundings. It was a relief. He would do things the way he remembered. He wouldn't be concerned.
There was...
It was midnight on the roof,the stars bright and shining, the moon full and gleaming. Sat up there alone I contemplated my own existence. As this speck in the whole tapestry of existence, can my life have meaning? Will I be able to understand all that life presents to me?
These questions plagued my mind for a few minutes, turning over slowly whilst I search for any answer, to questions I knew would be impossible to find one for. In the tranquility of the night, the mind often wanders to such matters. Within the idea of the unknowable, is the...
He likes his own room, but he likes mine more. He's five. Half the time, if he had his way he would climb back inside me. He can never get close enough. Half the time. The other half he's complaining. Scowling. "You're interfering with my personal space!" Like he's breaking up with me.
So when he stands there, waiting, in the corner, and he asks if he can share our room, our bed, our space, I do what any rational human would do. And that's to pick him up and hold him, smell his head, that getting-bigger head, and say,...
It wasn't my fault. It couldn't have been. She was dead when I got there.
I know my fingerprints were on the gun. It was my gun, of course my fingerprints were on it. Yes, I was the last one to see her alive. But that was hours before she died. I do stand to inherit a large sum of money. I loved her. Why would I kill her over something like that?
The CCTV could easily have been doctored. Besides, you don't see the killer's face. It must be a coincidence that she and I have the same build....
I shot my butler. His name was Greg. I shot him because I don't think butlers should be called Greg. They should be called things like Alfred or Jeeves or Cadbury or Pennyworth. Not Greg, who was from New Jersey. He didn't have a British accent. He lisped. And he was a dwarf. And his armpits stank. And he insisted on working naked. That wouldn't have been so bad if his scrotum hadn't been seven feet long so that it dragged behind him when he walked. True, it helped keep the marble floors a little more polished, but grandma kept...
In this world there is no pain, no disappointment. No one can hurt her here.
In this world she's in control. People look up to HER. They LOVE her. They admire her beauty and style and uniqueness. In this world she can be as silly as she wants.
She can break all the rules and STILL be looked up to as Role Model.
In this world there is no pain, no disappointment. No one can hurt her here. She is a child as well as an adult. She is a hero. An angel. A warrior.
Anything she dreams off, she...
I lay now in silent musings. The wedding party over and I a long way between there and home.
A cool desert breeze blew over me and the silver moon kissed my cheek. Through my dreaming landscape she flitted, lithe and beautiful, a Berber princess whom I had loved all my days.
I longed for her now in this strange place where dangers lurked, even in these wide open spaces between the mountains and the sea. Then she came to me as she always had when I felt uneasy and alone. She touched my face with her soft mane and...
She'd always come running when I called. The vampire girl that vanished at daybreak but warmed my bed at night, even though she was a cold-blooded creature.
She read my thoughts, knew when I wanted her, seduced me to the point where all I could do was imagine the next time she lay on top of me, kissing my hungry mouth, sucking my tongue.
Her name was Isabelle. She lived in a castle. Imprisoned for centuries. I believed her. Had to.
What was she really I didn't want to know.
After my wife left me I took to drink, drugs,...