She didn't look at him. She couldn't look at him. What would he think? she wondered as she sipped her wine and kept her eyes averted while he looked at her steadily, scratching his prematurely grey beard. "What's wrong?" he asked in his tenor voice.
"Nothing," she lied, and felt guilty for it.
"Come on," Mark said. He rolled over to Mary, took her hand and squeezed it gently. "We've been friends since we were kids, darlin'. You can tell me anything. Just like I can tell you anything."
"I love you," she blurted. Mark blinked at her as she...
Sadie didn't believe Mother when she told her it would be a greater adventure than the ones she entertained in the garden. Mother squeezed her, kissed her cheek, and they all laughed once upon the summit. The air was so cold and dry it cracked the skin of her cheeks and it chapped her lips, yet it felt thin and clean, like the waters from the stream.
The ladies breathed heavily, hands on their lower backs, stays pinching them into a dazed sort of happiness. The men gallantly offered arms for them to lean on.
They lingered a bit longer...
that's my sister
o, she was a riot, she was
Always with the arms
HAhAhaha
it was natural, ya know
used them to talk-
but you gave her a sip of alcohol-
o girl
Wam Wam-
even my brothers would avoid standing too close
i've had many bruises over the years due to a night on the town with that girl
.. now, not that she'd fight-
just scream and laugh and ..Punch your shoulder instead of slapping it
"she's singing in this photo though, correct mrs. Neel"
o, well, yes of course she's singing, boy.
she had a beautiful...
.. 2080 ... 2090 ... 2100. 2100 NE Swenson Avenue, that was the address. Harold was certain of it. He could almost feel an unnatural attraction to the simple white door with blue finish that innocently faced the street, surrounded by colorful flower pots.
A hesitant step after another, his heart pounding, he approached it. His thoughts were hundreds of miles away, in his home country, where his family was held hostage. They were watching his every move, listening to his every breath. If he failed, his wife and children would die.
His hand rested on the doorknob. The windows...
Please! Stop!
He keeps walking away
and I
keep screaming.
No one seems to hear
the cries of a
broken girl.
I just want to be
whole again.
What do I need to do
to make them see
that I'm not worthless?
I don't have an answer
So I just keep screaming
until the screams turn to
tears.
sharp tears
tears that could kill.
They just might kill me.
Please.
Please. Stop.
They lay like glass shards, scattered on the floor. Their unblinking eyes frozen pleading into nothingness. The atmosphere was as quiet as the darkest hour of midnight. It was still, as if nature even knew itself that there was no life here.
I took a step. Into this horror room.
My foot caught a flag, a great red flag with a swastika emblazoned on it.
This symbol was the representation of this cruelty
No life deserved to be here.
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
"No!" she screamed, spittle frothing at her lips. She waved the knife menacingly towards the rubber coated power line.
"You don't have to do this," he said. "Let's just be reasonable about things."
"Reasonable? When have you ever been reasonable? What's reasonable about quitting your job and becoming a tightrope walker?! You've wasted all our money chasing this stupid dream!"
Down below the crowd gazed up expectantly, silently. Sweat dripped down from his face, gliding noiselessly past his shirt, pant legs and feet, drifting in the air currents down...
It was dark inside. I toggled the switch, and nothing happened. Shit. Thunder rolled and I sighed. Power outage.
I stumbled through the apartment, tripping on things. I haven't lived here long enough to know the layout well. I never live anywhere that long. More than a few months, he finds me, and I have to go again. But this place, hell, there were still boxes.
I found the door to the utility room where the washer and dryer were, and where I knew the flash light was. I opened the door and began to feel around for it. Where...
He hadn't wanted the light there.
She had insisted - there was light on her, light on her voice, lifting her up, letting them all see her. He was playing too (had a solo during one of the songs, actually) so why shouldn't they see him?
He'd tried to protest that it wasn't traditional, and she'd just given him one of those looks, the one that made him certain that if ever (...when) she did get signed the record label wouldn't be able to force her into one of those moulds they seemed so fond of.
He'd stood his ground,...
Let me tell you a story or a hero named Sam. He was quite a character, as he worked as an Ambulance driver. His goal had been to be a doctor, but his villain of a college professor had failed him, and squashed that dream. He had hitched a ride from a paramedic one day, and he had gotten a job as the man's assistant. Since he had the credentials, Sam was already qualified to become a paramedic. He enjoyed the job, knowing that he could be vital to saving another person's life, and that was alright for him. But...