Wine. I knew that the Prosecco was cold enough and I was nervously stepping all over the apartment waiting for her to show up.I loved her. She knew that, but all she could give me was her frienship she said. Oh How much I hated that phrase, it kept pounding on my head like an hammer. I had the wine, sparkling Prosecco. If ...maybe....I was dreaming. I met her when she was very young. She was as beautiful as a star in the dark skies of Arizona. She wanted to be an actress..I was going to help her with my...
Giving in wasn't an option, but there was little else she could do.
"Ok, ok," she told the young galant with the sharp blade, "take whatever you want. Just don't hurt me."
The rascal had a look in his eye so sharp it could cut glass. "What I want, my lady," he said, drawing the space out between words to give them import, "is you."
The young woman's eyes widened, her ruby lips opened, but words failed her.
Reaching down, he made himself ready for his reward; then laid his hands upon-
her chastity belt.
Freed of the constraints of...
Marjorie was drowning. She felt the pull of the water on her legs and the icy shock in her heart. She hadn't even felt the hands on her back as she strolled along the darkened pier. She knew she was going to die and deep within her soul knew that she didn't want to. She kicked with all her might and little by little she began to ascend toward the surface. Her legs tangled up in weed attached to the piers structure like an obscene cat's cradle. She hauled at it, tearing her skin as she did so, the salt...
All I could do was stare down at the text book and pretend that I was listening to the class going on around me. I just wanted to be free again. I flicked between the pages and the past documented in the battered book. I wonder if when those sailors set out that they even thought for a glimmer of a second that their whole adventure would be covered by a short paragraph in a 10th grade history book and a photo that barely even grasped what their lives were like and how tragic that journey was. I knew that...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda.
It was a long, lazy summer afternoon in the local park. She was swinging gently on one of the children's swings, fingers interwoven with the metal chains, face turned up to the sun. He didn't notice her at first, lying stomach-down on the grass with his nose buried in a book. But his attention wandered briefly from the page and came to rest upon her slim figure and there was something about her that captured his attention.
She was oblivious. She arched her back, stretched her...
The key couldn't break.
Forged by the hand of fate
In the fires of adversity
Her love would mold
The white-hot metal
Into the shape it was meant to take
Then
Cooled by her touch
Quenched with desire
It would unlock
Anything
Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
"I must protest!" she shouted, above the din of the room.
The man at the other side looked at her quizically. "Miss Whitely, would you please sit down? You're not allowed to speak out until it's your turn in the witness stand."
"But this man is slandering me! I never did any of those things!"
"Miss, that's how court works. They tell their story, and you tell yours."
"But it's wrong!"
The prosecutor sighed. This was going to be a long...
Her toes struggled to grip onto the slimy rocks. Slippers were not the right sort of footwear for this kind of thing, but she hadn't had much of a choice.
She's spotted him through the net curtains, hovering on the doorstep, ready to knock.
Not today, she muttered.
She scurried out of the back door. Leapt the fence. Hadn't realised she could still manage it, but then adrenaline did that to you. She heard the knocking as she dropped over the other side of the fence and into the woods beyond.
RAP RAP RAP.
She scaled the rocks down towards...
Boxes upon boxes upon boxes upon boxes.
Buried beneath more boxes and found deep below
even more boxes. We've built our lives around such
boxes. Filling them with such weighty things, keeping
them around because we're afraid to toss them and
who knows if we'll need their contents again
sometime in the future? We've built castles with these
boxes, making them larger and stronger fortresses
each day, stacking them on top of each other, careful
to not knock anyone else over. I, on the other hand,
don't like to keep boxes. They're too square and uncomfortable.
They remind me of...
I was at home with my wife when we heard the noise start. At first just quiet thumps. Then louder and louder. I had her hide in her room, the door locked.
I grabbed my axe. By then I could smell something off. Something rancid and foul. I shouted, warning the intruder. This was my home and no robber or murder was going to violate it like this.
I tore through the house, screaming for him. No sign of him. And the noise had stopped. The kitchen was empty. The hall was empty. I ran back to our bedroom. The...