Potatoes.
That's all the six year old girl would eat. And it seemed that no matter what else I tried to serve her, potatoes was it. She wouldn't try anything else. Wouldn't look at anything else. All she ever wanted? Potatoes.
"Honey, what are we supposed to do?" I sighed, sliding into bed that night. "We went out to the Olive Garden. And she asked for potatoes!"
My husband chuckled a little. "Well, look on the bright side: at least it's a vegetable she wants. Could be worse."
"This is bad enough! No protein! No grain! Heck, even sugar would...
"They won't be of any help."
"Why? Did they not see anything?"
"I think they saw too much."
The man in the white coat was right. That was what had happened. We had all seen too much. Too much of the evil that had passed under the sky that night. We had born witness to horrors that no human tongue can describe. And by the way that the animals had fallen silent, not even they knew how to communicate what had happened.
We all sat in silence, those of us cursed to survive. It was by group consensus, unspoken as...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Of all the times for the bulb to burn out, it had to be right now? The noises were getting closer and closer to Sam's bed. Whatever they were, they weren't human.
Sure, it was most likely just the wind -- or something equally silly. All Sam needed was half a second of light to confirm that theory, and he'd sleep happily. But no, he couldn't have that. Instead all he had was his imagination to build horrific images for every creak and thud he'd heard all night.
The garage was stacked to the ceiling with boxes, the U-Haul ready to cart them away on that windy Tuesday morning. I was wearing sweatpants and my hair was tied up in a bun, ready to move the hell out of there. I had only lived in that white suburban house for two years. I remember the day I moved in it was mid-February. That was two years ago. Then it became May 19th, Tuesday, and windy. I held back tears as I drove away from that house, the one we were supposed to live in after the wedding, raise...
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...
There is no point to seeing the forest, all you can ever see are the trees. And the trees are not the forest. You'll never comprehend the true size of the forest, for it is the world. You'll never understand that the forest is everything, and everything is the forest. You are the forest too.
So do as our people have always done. Wander, wander through the dappled sunlight. Wander, wander through the glades and covers and hidden places. Wander, wander without direction, because there is no direction. There is only forest.
Find the place that is your own. You'll...
Peasants.
We all are peasants.
I am a peasant, endlessly tilling the vast land of my master. I have a perpetual inclination to become a slave for lack of education.
Still, I am not ashamed of what I am. My legacy, which I have inherited from my forefathers, will go on for posterity's sake. My sons and daughters will continue to till land. But I guarantee that the land would be theirs to cultivate, for I am about to storm the walls of my master.
May God have mercy on his soul!
The dapper man picked up a penny and found a little hole. The hole was smaller than the penny, but larger than a dime. The man, dapper and penny-wise, bent down on dapper knees, head bowed, right eye squinting into dime-sized hole.
"Dimes, dimes, dimes! Mole men flipping dimes, muddy mason jars tight with dimes!"
He wigle
Sometimes I am shocked at the state of America today. The young people just have not respect - no decency at all. They go around and do whatever they wish - guided, though, not by their wishes but by the pulsing masses. Every time that I see it I am disgusted. I see it and shrink. I don't understand it entirely. But this one thing is like my only weakness. Maybe I am like them. I just following a whim of someone else - or something. I'd like to think that I could have a justification for something that hits...
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.