He watched from a distance, hidden behind a bush. The two tigers snarled at each other, circling around, judging each other's strengths, weaknesses. His camera was held up to his eye, and the only part of his body were his fingers: depressing the shutter, muffling the click, repeat. They were magnificent creatures and couldn't have been more than three years old. Most likely this was their first time encountering another, hostile male. This would be the fight where they proved their worth. Maybe they were fighting over a girl, the age-old battle. But msot likely it was territory: this is...
How tiny. That was all she could think as she held it in her hand, how tiny it was, how tiny every feature of it was, the eyes, the scaly pro to-feathers, the beak, even the little talons, how exquisitely tiny to hold such intricate detail. She could feel the small heart fluttering through the fragile body into the palm of her hand. How tiny.
It moved slightly, shifting it's head slightly to cast a dark eye up at her. It wouldn't last long. They never did, when she found them like this. She'd tried to save the first couple...
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...
The force pulled me off the ground against my will, I found myself sucked into the base of the UFO and into a large silver chair, restraints locked, eliminating escape.
Darkness, few bright pulsating lights in the distance, piano music filling the space. Terrified I tried pushing my wrists against the metal knowing it a useless waste of energy.
Loud whooshing sounds like an ocean in my ear magnified to unbelievable levels. Shutting my eyes expecting death then opening to find myself in bed alone.
The out of body experience manual beside me.
It worked.
Es ging alles furchtbar schnell. Ein Kreischen, ein plötzlicher Ruck. Irgendwie schrien plötzlich alle durcheinander, ich glaube, ich hab auch geschrien. Aber so ganz sicher bin ich mir nicht. Meine Ohren fühlten sich an, als seien sie in Watte gepackt worden.
Absurder Weise gefiel mir dieses Gefühl und es wurde noch besser. Diese Schwerelosigkeitskammern, die man immer in Astronautenfilmen sieht, wirken bestimmt so ähnlich. Irgendwie fand ich es schade, sowas noch nie ausprobiert zu haben.
Alle verloren den Boden unter den Füßen und die Umgebung begann sich zu drehen. Wieder ein Ruck. Es war zu Ende. Glaube ich zumindest. Ich...
Two men entered, wearing respiratory masks. They came over to the register and looked at Martin, who just looked back in disbelieve. "What's with the masks?" The two men walked around the counter. "Hey, look, I don't work here. Nobody is here, I don't know where everyone is. This might sound crazy, but what year is it? Where am I?" The two men grabbed Martin by his arms and started dragging him outside. "Wait! Stop! Talk to me, please!" The two men ignored him. Outside, there was a parked van. The side doors opened, and another masked was waiting inside....
What do you make of the man who sells his muse?
It's what she wants.
It's what she asks for.
It's the active creation of a ghost, the planning for something that remains in verse and shadow long after the departure of the flesh.
It's the creation of memory and emotion that will remain fresh for the consumer, but will soon become the thorn for the creator
It's the serving of beloved as buffet.
It's what we need.
And ask for.
What do we make of the girl who sells her desire.
It's how she succeeds.
It's how she fails....
I held it at arm's length. It had begun to exude a rather offensive smell, but it was not that that had caused me to desire such distance between me and the thing that would undoubtedly change my life.
The thing in question squirmed and grinned as she shoved a fat hand in her gummy mouth.
"You're sure she's mine?" I asked for what was probably the fiftieth time.
"Absolutely sure. The DNA test was entirely conclusive."
The baby gurgled and reached her now slobbery hand towards me. I raised my eyebrows and slowly brought her towards my chest, where...
The maple leaves will change and fall with a certain grace - November will begin.
Carla read that sentence in her Literature textbook over and over, and the thought that kept running through her mind was, 'Who edited this book?'
That wasn't entirely true, but her internal monogue ran along these lines. Was she the only tenth grader who knew that semicolons connected independant phrases? Older people complained about how texting was ruining the language, but what difference did that make when a text book author, in what she assumed was an edited textbook ILLUSTRATING the language, couldn't even catch...
The coat was ragged. No, not ragged - raggedy. Tatterdemalion in some circles. Tatty, to his mother.
Love, to Matilda.
She slept in the pockets, wrapped herself in the arms and nibbled anxiously at the buttons.
Button.
He'd worn this coat for years. Navy blue pea coat from the army surplus store downtown, his first grown-up purchase. He lived alone then. He went to school, paid his book fees and came home to his one-room flat with a lukewarm kettle and a dusty sleeping bag on the floor.
He'd never had a pet. Allergies always did him in.
Then Matilda...