It approached. The first day of writing a 6 minute story. "Excuse me? A story about a story? That's so meta", I whispered to myself. The truth is, the story is really about life, and life is both the story and the story teller.
Four minutes. Really, it took two just to write that paragraph? "It's been so long since I've written creatively", I thought to myself. It's true. It's been years. Nowadays, most of my words are shaped in the form of technical documents, twitter updates, and code.
Three minutes. Time is ticking down. I look to my right,...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. She'd always known she was a woman, but pretty was a word that had never crossed her mind.
Shortly after she had reached the level of confidence where she didn't have to be paranoid about a little bit of stubble showing, or somebody noticing her hips weren't quite the right shape -- she suddenly became a little more confident.
All it took was sitting down in her favorite coffee shop with a smile on her face. That was it. That was when she met Sam. Her heart started pounding when he...
Tears dripped down her cheeks. She was alone. Finally, sadly, happily alone.
Her husband was searching for her. She prayed that he would not find her. She had managed to escape her home while he searched for weapons to use against her. When he stomped towards the kitchen, dripping angry sweat and hurling abuse, she thought of the knives.
She didn't remember how she got between her home and the doorway. All she knew was that she was safe, for the time being.
Where next? She had no family. Her friends were his friends or the wives of his friends....
Marvin hates it when things don't go according to plan. It's quite simple really: when a person calls you, you answer the phone.
But, this just isn't going to happen, now is it? In fact, it's never gonna happen.
Not as long as he can't get away from Melinda.
"...so, my dad was all angry, you know? He told me that I had to help him with the yard work, and I didn't want to-"
"That's great, but-"
"-I'm not even good at yard work! Allergies and all of that? Yeah, allergies can really get a person down. The worst...
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...
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...
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...
There was blood on my pillow. Along with a few small feathers. And upon closer inspection, there was also a long white whisker, and what I could only guess was a foot. I could be absolutely certain by just picking it up, but getting home from work ready to crash from a nap that was now being delayed did not lend itself to doing anything other than being infuriated.
Where the hell had Sebastian managed to catch a bird when I had all the windows and doors closed and locked?
"AAAAUGH! SEBASTIAN!" I whirled out of the room, shouting at...
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...