He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. He was breathing heavily. I turned round from folding the laundry and looked at him quizzically. "What's wrong, Stefan?" It wasn't like him to run for a bus. It was so out of character. "Damn, thugs," he said and plonked himself into the nearest chair. "Stole my phone, my Ipod and my wallet." I dropped the shirt I was folding and went to him, enfolding him in my arms. His accent still had the power to make me weak at the knees. He hadn't been in the...
It was a dark night, full of mist in the air ad puddles reflecting the orange light of lamps that lined the long cobbled streets. Marcelle was waiting for a visitor on the rooftop of the Goyer building, one of the tallest in the owrld. Had anyone been awake in the city, they would have thought him a suicide. Footsteps rang out on therooftop surface and Marcelle turned slowly, keeping his collar up against the wind. It was a woman. "I didn`t expect them to send the lousiest spy in the world." she said. It was Bev, the woman who...
"And when I get older, I'm going to be a fairy!" little Leslie exclaimed. On their second playdate, she and her new pre-school friends were already discussing their life goals. As the only girls in their new class, they quickly bonded and had to stick together.
As they grew, their friendship did as well. They squabbled over birthday party themes, which high-school to attend and not infrequently, boys. As two went off to college, Leslie chose a different route. She became known on the music festival circuit as the best-damn flowered headband maker... it wasn't long before she had her...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. Her body was cold, hard like marble, but also soft -- like frozen meat. That's all she was now: meat. The light was gone, and I could not sleep curled up next to my dead sister.
I needed to sleep. It would be at least another day before we made it to the border, maybe even two before we hit the safe house. Sonia would start to stink by then. And I would lose my mind if I didn't sleep.
Still, her body next to mine reminded me that it was only...
The running wasn't the best part - but it was the part he did best. With pumping arms and striding legs, he moved gracefully around the track, passing others without a second thought or glance, as though there were mere statues standing still and in his way.
The best part was the winning. But he wasn't a very good winner. Oh, he smiled and shook hands and took his trophy or medal and posed for photos, but he was already thinking about the next race. And when fellow runners came to congratulate him, he didn't care. He was, if such...
Travel light, but take everything with you.
That was the last message I received from my father before he began his ascent. The words struck me in an unexpected way. I had anticipated experiencing a range of emotions at the outset of his trek. Exasperation at the foolishness of this mid-life-crisis-driven thrill-seeker kick. Pride in his ambition. Fear for his life--no, fear for my own life, which would change drastically and uncomfortably if he never made it back.
But at the base of that mountain, with ice on the wind, as he read me that short passage from the introduction...
he forgot his jacket.
it hangs on the line, like a ghost.
(like the ghost of last night)
i can see it outside my kitchen window
as i wash out our wine glasses.
it's a plaid puff of smoke.
(reds and blacks and whites
the colors of a genie's lamp)
he left for illinois or indiana
or maybe idaho, and he won't be back,
(or so he says)
but the mornings are chilling
and i might wear it on a walk
with our dog.
Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up. What was she going to do? Who was this girl? I had been in this graduate school class with her for a month and I dodn't know her name. In fact, she rarely ever came to class in the first place. Actually, I didn;t even think the professor knew who she was. But, nevertheless, thre she was. We were talking about politics and the upcoming election. Frankly, I wasn;t really paying attention too closely. I try to stay out of those...
The horses were reflected in the wet, grasping sand, and Mary was afraid when she looked down. Images of being sucked into the muddy, cold slime reared up in her mind and she couldn't dismiss them. She closed her eyes and clung tightly to the reins, gripping as hard as she could so as not to topple sideways and be lost forever.
Mitch was not afraid. "Isn't this wonderful?" he asked breathlessly as he rode up to join his wife. "Can you believe we're actually doing this? A lifelong dream, finally realised!" And before Mary could answer and give her...
The results were in.
Her name wasn't even on the list. Not division A, not division B, not any of the special divisions . . . what the heck?
Okay, calm down, she thought, they let you take the test, so all the paperwork gets through. You can't fail the test, it isn't that kind of test, and they would've told you if something was wrong on your end, it was probably an administrative error. Right?
Who should she talk to? She had no idea. Okay, she could ask at the main counter. That's what it for, right? You don't...