Blue open windows,
training wheels on the driveway,
Papa let me fly.
Afternoon bubbles,
wedding bells for fireflies,
the laughter echoes.
Saturday mornings,
the rain never goes away,
I'll always love you.
We were sitting in the basement, Danny and me. Tv's on. Hockey game. Upstairs ma and pa is fighting again. Bills. Or pa's philanderin'. Didn't know. Didn't care.
"Hey," Danny says. "Let's make a mix tape."
I roll my eyes a little but I don't say no. The two-deck tape player is in the basement as is my whole cassette collection. I know Danny doesn't like most of my music but he does like some songs (The Beatles' Birthday, The Who's Won't Get Fooled Again, The Pointer Sisters' Neutron Dance.)
So we start making a mix tape. Danny, who is...
everything flows
Time lay scattered everywhere. In the depths of the forest he could hear the 1700s exploring; somewhere to his left there were the ancient druids.
everything is meant to flow
The watches had stopped. All of them. Then again, everything was happening all at once, and there is only so much that clockwork can stand. Mechanisms are man-made and they can be broken, just as man can.
time is meant to flow
He was aware that this couldn't last - not that there was really a concept of lasting now (not a meaningful one, anyway). The universe would...
Portraits. Hanging in the gallery; all her own work. Self-portraits, and ones of famous people, she had finally found her passion.
Buyers, on-lookers, and art collectors alike all came to marvel at the paintings. The gallery was on Main Street in the City. Nashville had always been her home, and her dream to have her portraits on display for the Country Music Capital dwellers.
Her favorite portrait was one she had painted of her and her brother Damien. This one in particular, Leila was sitting on Damien's lap, looking up at him while their cat, Josephine was sitting at her...
The crow sat on it's perch, silently watching the moon. It wonders how far the moon is, and if it could reach it using just it's own wings. But of course it couldn't, because he was just a bird. The crow wonders what it's like to be free, and remembers it's life before it was a bird. The crow was once a happy young boy, but he was known for his many tricks. He was a mischievous boy, and he tricked one too many people in his life. Finally, he tricked a traveling wizard out of money, and the wizard...
Not that he could fell it, but judging from the way he staggered with every few steps, his legs hadn't healed completely. It was likely he was setting himself up to trip and collapse again, unable to move, but he knew he couldn't stay any longer. He tried to make his steps as steady as possible, but with no percerption of how much weight he was applying, he was at a loss to gauge if he was accomplishing much, and in the back of his mind simply waited for the tell-tale crack of bones re-fracturing, and plummet into the grass....
The Moon would never be the same again. Not after the Settlers came. See, we had claimed the Moon. Put our USA flag on it with our pretentious little stars. We thought that we'd always be revered as 'the people who claimed the Moon'. But that was before the Settlers came. They came like a swarm, hundreds upon hundreds of spacecraft. They had their big laser guns, and they trooped all over the Moon. And found nothing. No one lived on the Moon. But we were watching. Researchers looked on in wonder as the Settlers claimed the Moon. They set...
Do you want to hear about it, she asked. The doors slid shut.
I couldn't say.
There was the first ding.
No, I said. Not really.
I want to tell you about it, she said.
The second ding.
She stood next to the panel. I leaned back against the opposite corner. No others at this time of night, in this elevator, in this place.
Fine, I said. Tell me about it.
It was warm. We in our winter coats, too warm, as far as we could get away from each other in our opposite corners of the elevator.
The third...
"Send it back," he said, his mouth shaped like a cruel stink.
"Why, whatsa matter with it?" I laughed.
"It's not a twist, that's a wedge. I didn't ask for a goddamn wedge. This is not an ice tea."
The busboy removed the drink, soon replacing it with another.
"Are you goddamn kidding me? This is the same thing. Do you know what a twist is?"
"Yeah," said the busboy, "it's what my fate has suddenly taken."
And he drank it down. Wedge and all.
Peasants. That's what he called them. To their faces. Idiots. Perverts.
The fact they were his employers didn't seem to matter at that very moment. They sacked him and it wasn't until he was standing in the street in the pouring rain that he wondered what on earth had happened.
One moment he was being congratulated for achieving the top sales rank that month, next he was shoved out the back door clutching his P45.
As he looked through the window, he could see Riley, smirking. Something was odd about this as Riley was his best friend.
Back in the...