Froniga, or Fron (as most of her US friends and relations called her) was a patient sort of soul. More in touch with her forebears than many Americans, perhaps because she was closer to her immigrant roots than most. She'd married into the "Land of the Free" as much as she had been born there, not really considering where she lived as something to define her. Maybe that was the Romany spirit showing through. She couldn't tell. She didn't care.
Of course, her attracted neighbour did present a problem. She was who she was, and it was hardly her fault...
It flies through the air, flashing silver and disappearing. My fate depends on that coin landing face up. All I can hear is my own heart beating in my ears, blood rushing through me as the coin falls ever closer to the table. It clatters onto the scarred wood, spinning like a small planet. He holds his breath across from me, eyes fixed upon the little silver coin that will decide our fates. It's inscribed with the words "In God We Trust" on the side my life depends on. "OK then, God. Do your stuff." I thought silently. The coin...
She was the most delicate girl in town. But looks could be deceptive. Ruth knew he was somewhere in the house. Unfamiliar surroundings would make it difficult for easy location of prey, but that wouldn't delay the inevitable. She was as confident as she could be that no help would come. The old place was too isolated; one of its charms. Ironically, it was what had attracted her to the place. The appeal of sole occupation. Nothing to disturb her work.
Fortunately, she'd made it to the Kitchen and its drawers of sharp, clean, very clean knives. Ms. (note the...
When the truck pulled up into the yard, I looked up from breakfast. It was a large truck, sort of a cross between a utility van and an ice-cream dispensary, and its tires bobbed over the curb, causing it to lurch from side to side. It drove right over our sapling, sideswiped the large maple, crunched into the center of our magnolia bush, and finally stopped over top of the fire hydrant, knocking it out into the intersection. I could see the driving compartment fill up with water, and pretty soon thereafter the windshield split off from its frame and...
I am different.
I know it.
They know it.
They being society.
In our society, we are to dress the same, act the same, our names are the same, and the only thing different about us is our eyebrow angles. Strange, isn't it? I know there are a few like me in the world, but I don't know where. When I was very little, my parents lived on the edge. They would be different, and the society would scold them. When I was three, they were to be killed. Before my parents died, they decided they wanted me to stand...
"The day after tomorrow, this will all be over." Such a fucking cliche.
Sure, our road trip would be ending soon enough, and we would be returning to our miserable, monotonous, minimum-wage jobs that regularly take us to the very brink of sanity... but to pretend that everything we just experienced would be concluded as soon as we return to home port strikes me as truly false.
The thing that he seems to miss is the continuity of events which develops out of the dynamic relationship between what we do and otherwise experience, and the way we see our fundamental...
"So, old woman, how do you cure Love at First Sight?"
The crone laughed like a deadman's rattle. "Ah, there's a thing. Well, if you were some maid, I'd say a kiss. Or to be truly rid of it, a marriage." She pronounced marriage 'marry-ahj' the old way of yore.
"Neither is possible. I'm already wed, and happily too, were it not for this accursed lust that's come over me."
"Tell me her name and her story." the wise one requested. Of course, she already knew the girl. The lovesick sow who'd pleaded for a love spell. Yet she listened...
“Come here.”
The little boy looked at her, then back at the kitchen door.
“Come here!”
Something crashed in the kitchen. The boy turned away and stumbled over to her. She took him by the hand. “Come on, we have to go.”
“What's wrong with him?”
“Doesn't matter, just come on. We have to hide.”
“Why?”
“I did something, and now he's mad.”
“What did you do?”
“We have to hide.”
“What did you do?”
“I stole all of it.”
“What?”
“After school today, I stole all his drinks.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah.”
“You know he gets mad when he...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. And, if she was honest, she still didn't. It wasn't her mind that had changed. It wasn't even thhe mind of the world in general. Just the rather pleasant opinion of one particular man who she had met while walking into town. He had caught her eye as she passed, caught her hard and fast in fact. She was forced to an abrupt halt, staggered by it's impact. Not unpleasant, mind. Gentle, but admiring. There was power in that. He had looked and smiled and then complimented her on her looks,...
The room was dimly lit with the candles he had scattered before she had arrived. The meal would be served in just a few minutes, a creation to do any chef proud. He had left the wine to breathe the required amount of time. The stage was set. He set the plate before her and frowned when she showed no sign of appreciation for his efforts. He poured her a glass of wine, an excellent vintage. Still, she showed no joy or surprise.
He batted the wineglass away and it shattered on the far wall. With a swipe of his...