The ground was cold and he could feel the pigeons surrounding his pack. He had half a sandwich in there and they tried in vain to pick it out from beneath the clothes.
The sun was rising and in the distance, he heard shopkeepers opening up as workers trudged through the streets on their way to work. He sat up and stretched with a yawn. He would have to find a shower. He had gone a good four days without one and the smell was starting to bother him. Maybe he would spring for a hostel. Clean sheets and running...
Smell of moss, picked up by wind and lifted by trees. Flash of fire-rimmed eyes, toss of disdainful hair, gold-threaded-with-crimson. Derisive eyes and a tight little mouth, quick to contempt and slow to praise. Slender hands and slender frame roped the man in as easy as you please, and for what seemed like a thousand years promises of glittering gold kept her tethered to him like a
I was going to the store to buy some Golden Grahams and mushroom soup. I was with Meadow, my kid sister, who was 11. Meadow had developed an infatuation with cole slaw. She wore it under her armpits. She danced a lot too. Her favourite fictional character was Smurfette.
We got to the store and the clerk, Mr. Didd, told us that we could have the Golden Grahams for free if we would do him a favour.
"Wassat?" asks Meadow.
Mr. Didd hands her a pouch of golden dust. "Take this into the woods and dispose of it," he says....
there were roses of Blue Cross is everywhere everywhere I look I could see a blue cross suddenly I noticed that 1 of the Blue Cross is this a crescent moon this disturbs me a little bit because it interrupted the uniformity of the rest of the field of Blue Cross is I was all alone so I had no 1 to complain to which is why I am completing to you dear reader of my 6 minute story see that little crescent moon it looks out of place no obviously the crescent moon is there because it marks the...
Pleasure. Burn. They're the only two words on the whole page - in the whole book if he was honest - that he had read and actually remembered. The rest was a jumble of names, bad descriptions, inplausible mixes of action and consequence.
Pleasure, the word just rolled off the tongue, almost like a cat unfurling itself and stretching lazily, purring as it spots some new distraction.
Burn, more akin to an explosion, though with the same purring quality, it flooded into his ears a lot more passionately than pleasure did, filled his mind with images, tortorous landscapes with dark...
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...
"His eyes closed with a sinnister grin?" Rabbit said. "What does that even mean? His eyes were grinning? Or the grinning caused his eyes to close? I don't get it. The imagery just doesn't pop and imagery needs to pop, or at least not be this strange Cheshire cat thing."
"A what kind of cat?" Weasel said.
"Cheshire. A Cheshire cat, like in Alice in Wonderland."
"Oh, I've never seen that."
Rabbit looked at him, mouth open. "Regardless of having seen it or not, or even better, having read the book, since you are trying to be a writer, you...
Isolated figure on the shore. That's what I first saw when we landed on this planet.
The grey world spoke to me of desolation but I knew this was just the difference between Earth and it's brilliant wonder of nature with different hues and Velna our new home.
It took a long time to adjust to the constant blandness and we were given medication and daily visual meditation in the form of implants.
Now, six years later I still long to see the verdant green of the Welsh valley and the sparkling turquoise of the Mediterranean waters.
I regret taking...
Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. He fingered the photograph of his wife and daughter, remembering the last time he'd held them in his arms, crying as the rain washed away his tears. He remembered the wailing sirens, the questions, the looks on people's faces - faces filled with a mixture of sadness, suspicion, and contempt.
He thought about the judge, the look on condemnation as he sentenced him, as though the loss of his family wasn't punishment enough. He visualized walking past the liquor store, his steps heavier as he forced himself...