What's this then?I've never seen one of these before...it looks a bit suspicious to me.
It looks like food, but it has strange skin. I'll sniff it and see if it is food. Ugh! What a strange smell, like sweet smells that come on the winds. I'll lick it. Hmm..it tastes good, a bit salty though. It's moving, so it isn't dead yet. Argh...I can't get that awful taste out of my mouth. I could get poisoned if I eat this, but can I last another day without food? Pewk, that tastes bad.I think I'll leave this to the Hyenas,...
Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. That's what she kept telling herself as she drove through the beckoning water drops falling down both inside and out. She could hardly see but knew it was the right thing to do. There's no way she could stay, he hated her for what she was, what she had achieved. It wasn't her fault he resented her for wanting to do what was right.
Crash - and it all was over. Her last thought was her baby and how she would make a great mum, visions of...
The gate closed behind them and there was no looking back. What went on inside would be difficult to remember anyway; like a dream that fades after the first cup of coffee, leaving one with but a shadow of a strange feeling that lingers over the rest of the day.
Anne and Bobby had been walking in the woods as the snow fell and Boris, Anne's Laborador retriever, ran ahead. They stopped to kiss in the falling snow, and suddenly noticed that Boris was missing. Running and calling, they came upon a fence they could not recall from any previous...
Lola is the best dancer in the class. I couldn't believe her moves the first time I saw her, she was that good. I am good too, everyone knows that. But to dance with Lola--that'd be a dream come true. Somehow, though, I couldn't get up the nerve to ask her, and the guy always has to ask., It's the way things are done, you know, even in middle school.
So today Stewie comes up to me and tells me that if I wont' ask her, then he's going to go up to her and tell her that I said...
Idyllic farmhouse? Well, appearances can be deceiving, I suppose. If the For Sale sign in front had said, "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here," we might have been more wary. As things stood,, when we signed on the dotted line we had no idea what we were really buying into... or signing away. The funny thing about souls, you don't really notice them until they're gone.
It was the fall that surprised me most.
Throughout my twenties, love had always been akin to a distant country: worth visiting perhaps, but out of my budget. I watched others travel to its shores with a lazy detachment and a very small amount of curiosity. There were other places to go. Other places to see. Love was not a final destination and those that went there seemed -- for the most part -- to be the eager embarrassing tourist types that I always avoided during my holidays.
Then I met Albert. The first thing I told him was that...
It happened gradually. Never when he was looking at it, never exactly the moment he turned away.
It grew. The green-ish mold-like whatever grew. So slowly, it was like watching the Tar Drip experiment. Again. It grew floating inside a near-absolute vacuum in a spherical glass container, with nothing to support its growth.
Well, there was sunlight, but no matter how efficient it was, it couldn't possibly synthesize matter from that.
The worst part was that when he released the vacuum, the particles scattered everywhere. All he could then was to reinstate a vacuum in the container and hope some...
We take the ability to breathe for granted. It's the basic function that keeps us alive, you would have thought that we would keep a closer eye on it, that we would pay attention to how many lungfuls of air we consume every day. But we don't. We don't think about that mundane process because that is not the element of breathing that adds a spark to life; it is the thieves that trade in such banal fare that creates the interest.
For a breath once stolen is never forgotten. Whether it be by the view from a hill over...
"But I don't understand," said Marie, carefully patting her French-inspired doo. She had enough hairspray on it to make it impervious, not only to wind, but to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune as well. "Why can't you explain this to me? What do you mean they've had enough cake?"
"Don't worry about it, Ms. Antoinette," said Katie Couric with a grin. "It's nothing to lose your head about."
*rimshot*
It's breathtaking how many times I've had to smell this. The curiosity overwhelms me. So begins the search for my companions. After all, who investigates strange smells without company? Speaking of company...where is everybody? This nose of mine struggles to pinpoint the four-legged friends I've come to know over these past few months.
Something is off.
"Skipper," I think to myself. At least that's what the farmer calls me. "You know better than this to delay the inevitable."
I strain, nose and ears working in tandem to take in the faint...wait...yes. there it is. The distant sounds of howling. Distress....