All this chicken wants is a hamburger. Nothing fancy, just meat and cheese. Maybe lettuce and tomato. That's it. Really, I don't think that's much to ask for. Is it?
Here's the problem. The road won't let me do it. The cows are relatively fine with it. Not happy, but they've at least come to understand that I'm going to eat them.
The road, on the other hand, is not happy at all. You see, the road has it in it's head that its reason for existence is to protect the cows. The cows can't see the danger and incowity...
Draya looked out through the trees to her castle. She had been in hiding ever since the rebellion had started. Her father had sent her to a place where Bishop Fenson couldn't find her. He had wanted to kill her. She was the heir to the throne. Shortly after she had been sent away, she heard the news that this bishop had killed her father because he felt he wasn't being given the respect that was needed by someone of his status. The months had been long and hard and she had waited, making plans.
Now was her chance. Draya...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Waiting, patiently. Hoping that he would answer. But, with her ear pressed up agaisnt the door, she heard nothing. No footsteps. No television blaring music videos. No german shephard barking incessantly. Her greatest fear had been realized. Yet at the same time, her wish had come true. He was gone. The man that lured her in some three ago, only to break her heart. The man she followed half way across the world to be with. The man she gave up her hope and dreams for....
Portraits of this generation stand on the top of the grand piano, making it impossible to open the thing and get a good quality of sound out of it, not that anyone dare play in the sanctuary. Portraits of the previous generation hang on the wall in the family room. Portraits of the generation before that hang in the dining room, while portraits, just four of them, all that they had, hung in the living room, huge ovals of ancestry cluttering up what might have been a nice space. The house would have to be remodeled before another generation came,...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Lucy shifted, humping herself up on the mattress to look at the actual location of the light, fingers searching to see if, perhaps, she just hadn't hit the right button. But it was still there. The cheap lamp she had bought with her sister at Target while decorating the apartment she hadn't wanted to get.
"Unf," Lucy muttered under her breath. Light bulbs. She had no clue where light bulbs were. Forcing herself up, she headed out of her room and into the bathroom, flicking on the light there. But still, there was no light....
The city was empty. The day had swept by on the brush of a filthy broom, skittering over the edge of the world. We were happy.
But we'd always secretly reveled in disaster situations. When the status-quo was torn asunder, that's when we came alive. It was the status quo that we couldn't deal with.
The last bits of ash were falling out of the sky. The TV said that this might be the end of it. But they also said it might not. Storm clouds at night make the world all that much darker. So we lit our candles,...
Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. The thought kept running through Eddie's mind as he waited through another Dealer change. He removed his knock-off designer shades and attempted to rub away the hours of lost sleep. As the pair of pocket cards slid in his direction he affixed the shades back in place and took a deep breath. Contrary to popular belief perception is hardly ever brought on by a sweeping vignette of thoughts while staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night. Many times it arrives in moments of...
I'm in love with a robot. Thing is, she doesn't even notice. She doesn't even have any feelings, whatsoever. Her positronic net doesn't have the capacity for joy, or anger, or love.
Naturally, this poses a problem.
How do I tell her about my feelings? She knows the dictionary definition of love. But she doesn't know the meaning. I have no idea how she would take it. Would she just acknowledge it, and then continue on with her work?
The worst part is, the fact that she has no emotions is part of the reason I love her. She can't...
The water was clear and the sky, a burden. That clear, opening water annexed from infinity by the murky, swollen sky. Everything the sky held glared and grimaced like sweaty bustlers at a flea market.
And then I look back at the water and eke out a smile before the groaning creak of the sky turning darker toward the night pulls out my grin like a bad tooth.
The water was clear, so clear I couldn't see the bottom.
Lousy sky.
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead. I had died probably 15 minutes ago by a raving lunatic. I know, drastic way to go right? Actually, it was quite thrilling.
So, there I was walking on Park Street when I hear this noise coming off from the left. It wasn't like anything I'd heard before. I shouldn't have done it. I'd still be alive. Those are the choices we make I guess. Anyway, I go over to see what's up and this guy jumps...