Its iron heart broke in two each time it welcomed a visitor. Ironic.
Its sign was officious but it's symbolism romantic. Just like any heart, it was forged by mixed signals.
"Enter me. Break my heart in two. Leave. Break my heart again. I am only whole when I have nothing or everything."
"But once you get inside, if you have ignored my words and pulled open my heavy gates, you will still be facing a brick wall. And you may feel a moment of blank indifference that reaches inside of you and takes your hope. But before you turn...
As soon as Roger grabbed my wrist, I knew the spell was broken. Silence had been my way of being. Silence, yes, on the outside. But inside? Screaming. Screaming an Ella Fitzgerald glass shattering scream. But Roger's fat fist around my bloodless wrist created an outlet for me. Finally. THere was no way in hell he was going to take my sister's banana bike. I may not have spoken for the first 9 years of my grade school existence, but I wanted to make sure She WOULD.
I flipped out of the wrist hold with a Karate move my brother...
she was huddled down. depleted of all will and thought, the night went by so fast. flashes of light, neon and the sewer gas wafted through her thoughts. then there was that boy, she'd seen him before somewhere. thats was all she thought about now. despite the blisters on her feet from dancing in heels, the dried sweat that made her body clammy, he was all she could think about. she knew she had to see him again, now people were getting up for work. walking along from a long nights rest and recovering from sweet dreams. none of them...
They gathered in the woods. The darkness entwined itself around everything it touched. Filling every hole, every space it could claim.
It was not the darkness that was so frightening, it was that which hide inside. Using it as a clever camouflage.
Something hid, something stalked and watched and he could feel it. It was looking at him, watching and waiting. Its gaze crawling across his skin like tiny spiders.
He hid within himself not wanting to accept it. He built up the layers to keep the darkness out. He would not fear the thing in the dark. he would...
Which watch are you watching?
Which way are you talking?
All the boys
And all the girls
Will never cease their marching.
Is waiting the answer?
Or being a dancer?
Twirling
And chasing
A garish romancer.
It's better to be
Alone in the forest
For there you can see
Who
Spinning. The whole world was spinning.
And not the good kind either. The ground was pitching backward under my feet, making the sky wobble on its axis and vault over me as I hit my knees.
It was so hot... This's heat stroke?
The black asphalt, hotter still than the sun itself, scraped my skin as I went down, the color brightening and blurring across my vision into one massive kaleidescope of obnoxious rainbows, melting together. The sound buzzed unintelligibly in my ears, somehow feeling cold.
"Get out of the way! Move it!" I could vaguely hear the sound of...
We stood on the sidewalk, our sodas sweating onto our hands. My fingers were so slick I thought any second now the plastic cup would slip through them and smash into the floor. I adjusted my grip, and you smiled slyly.
"Do you want to come in?" You asked, gesturing at your house, behind us. One lone light lit the front yard. I looked at it for a second, judging whether it would be a stupid idea. Results: Extremely stupid.
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Everyone knows the best adventure stories begin with "Why not?" and the worst romances start with...
The daring were punished. They had been aware of the risks their actions might have, both to themselves and their loved ones.
Golem's Bridge over the Tankard River was never meant to be tread on by anything but golden-shoed royal feet.
The daring waited until the guard at the gate had dozed off. The four of them climbed over the iron bars, hauling their cigar-shaped package behind them. They reached the middle of the bridge and unfurled, freeing the drab fabric and coils of rope.
They worked quickly, tying ropes to each other's wrists and ankles, threading it through the...
I have come to the conclusion that Jack suffers from a degenerative brain disorder. This may sound horrible coming from his own mother, but it's all I can think about these days. First off, he takes our only cow to the market and comes back with seeds when I specifically said we needed food. Sure, you can use the old fisherman analogy, but NOT when it involves an immediate need to fill our incredibly bare cupboards. I would have even accepted him butchering her for food. I really would have. But no, my son is a retard.
Magic beans? Really?...
It wasn’t a specific look, or anything she said exactly. It was the things she didn’t do that gave it away. The way that she didn’t automatically include me in the conversation, the way she didn’t look to me when something funny happened, the way she didn’t move up to get more space but stayed, leg pressed against mine, reminding me that she was there.
All the instincts we’d developed about one another over the many years we had been friends were now kicking into gear and compensating for all the things we couldn’t say, not with all these people...