He couldn't see through the rain. The rain covered everything in sight, like a thick veil of mosquito netting had been thrown over the city.
It was a dilemma. The once wished-for, prayed-for, blessed rains that the Americans had provided for the desert nation had turned into a curse. They washed away everything, buildings crumbling on what had been sturdy foundations in the desert. While the crops suddenly flourished, the cities were dying. The culture was dying. The people were dying.
Now the americans were threatening to take the rains away.
The Moon would never be the same again. No more bands, no more over priced beer. No more after prom parties.
But that really isn't any concern of mine. I always hated the place. It was where the worst times of my life went down.
The one that stuck in my mind the most happened because of a girl named Erin. I'd just moved to town and for some reason she caught my eye. I spent a while trying to get her to go out with me, but I couldn't ever get anywhere with it.
Then one day I got...
"Something is wrong with the clock."
"...what?"
"Look at it."
20:70.
"That's not possible."
"Or it's ten past nine...?"
"No, because that would be twenty-one-ten. This is twenty-seventy." A pause. "Do you think it's odd, that we rely on technology so heavily?"
"Not especially. Everything is technology, really. Pen and paper, that's technology. Not advanced, but it's still technological. You see, externalising information - "
"Yes, yes, I've heard you lecture." She gave him a look. He'd clearly forgotten how they met.
He looked at her again, and she wondered if he had. "Of course you have. It's natural, for...
The girls rejoiced. It took them an hour, but they finally found the Moleskine notebook that Julia had so carelessly misplaced. Anna and Rachel spotted it beneath a rock that Julia used to keep the pages opened flat.
Now that the hunt was over, the three girls placed the notebook on the ground and stood around it. They took hold of each other, and began the chant. As they chanted, they began dancing around the notebook, faster and faster, chanting more and more loudly.
A beam of pure white light shot straight into the air and appeared to pierce the...
I was walking to grandma's when I spotted the yellow box with a question mark on it. I liked it so much that I leaned against it and stuck a little red thing in my chest. Unfortunately, the little red thing was poisonous and I died. My eyeballs fell out and my skin ripped open and I bled everywhere. Then my body shrunk so that I looked like a voodoo doll. I am still standing against the yellow box with a question mark on it.
bruno went to Kentucky Fried Chicken to buy mashed potatoes and figs. He only had...
The old folks filed away from Gregoire slowly, creeping off to investigate a small marble statue of Psyche being ravished by Cupid. The chandelier hung precariously over them, and Gregoire wondered how many shots from his 19th-century pistol would send it crashing down on their aged heads.
But would Bonaparte commit such a gauche act? Gregoire thought not. Even in exile, surrounded by mad old women, he still had his dignity. He held his head high, hoping that the extra height of his admiral's hat would exceed that of the straw bonnets behind him. He would win this psychological battle....
I'm in love with a robot, thats all there is to it. When his parents tell him how to live his life, where to go to college, where to work, even when to go on dates, he just goes along with it. He makes me so upset sometimes. I know that he has brilliant ideas and knows exactly what he wants to do with his life, and yet he lets others decide everything for him. If only he would stand up for himself. I know who he really is. He is wonderfully funny, incredibly smart, and full of ambition. But...
AwesomeAwesome. The goal is to write like the wind? I think not. Friday is a black day for productivity. This is illustrated in our hero, Freewrite. Optimism is a dying breed in Friday, where nothing gets done, and we must relax. we are constricted by it. Freewrite goes on a quest, to the edge of Friday, on a sacred quest to find Work Ethic, said to redeem the last Optimisms in the land. But the victory, my friends, is that Work Ethic is not found, but made. Hard work redeems Optimism, comrades. specially on a Friday, when I could eat...
I am the apple of her eye.
All of them in fact.
I have five aunts, and a mother.
Mom calls me the Little King, her little Emperor, the man of the house. Where is my father? I don't know or care.
My aunts have always been there. Mom defied everyone when she got pregnant, as far as I know my aunts have never been courted.
They are my court. They laugh at my jokes, they bring me snacks, they make me cocoa, they run my baths. When I write stories they print them and paste them in a book,...
He gasped for breath and looked around. The room was dark but he could sense there was someone there. Hello he said, barely audible. No response. Hello? this time a bit louder. From the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of light. At thesame time his nostrils filled with the putrid stench of what smelled like rotting fish. The room started to shake, he lost his footing. Tyring to grab on to the nearest thing possible he screamed when he touched what may once have been a hand but now was bone with some slime like substance that...