Waves.
Thats all I saw. Waves, waves, waves.
Just little curves in the ocean, that broke down and collapsed into themselves.
I shiver, and take a tentative sip of the warm coffee he had given me. He shouldn't have come. But I let him; It had been so simple and easy.
The coffee's bitter taste makes me feel like I'm in the ocean itself, a wondrous part of the world that still remains unexplored.
I am that. I am unexplored.
I walk along the shoreline, divulging in the darkness of the sky and the silentness of the air. I think...
Victoria and her sister Elizabeth spent their Sundays in the shopping district of their small town, on what they called their "promenade," saying the word in the closest thing they could affect to a french accent.
They would start in cafes and sip teas or coffees, nibbling shortbread, or butter cookies. They would each attempt to look both beautiful but also very bored, and would study each other for comparison later on.
When their cups were empty, they would walk, slowly, and purposefully along the narrow cobblestone streets. Looking in the window display of the second-hand and conscription stores and...
The library was dark, lights shutting off behind me but I continued to thumb through the book. They had lamps on the desks, the kind with telescopic arms so that you could adjust the height. I'd pushed the bulb close to the pages so it left half of the images in shadow, a charcoal mystery for the eyes. I slid the page beneath the warm glass to uncover the next page. Illuminated- a dog sitting on the wooden cap of a fence, his face towards the sea. The rest of the picture was hidden in black shadow, the dog was...
A small office, four storeys up a marble staircase with an flowery ironwork bannister. Dark. Quiet. A light passes the window, shifting the shadows. There, in the darkness behind the desk, a face. An open mouth. Staring eyes. John's heart hammers in his chest so loudly. Can he here it? Can Adam see him? And the girl. The poor girl. Blood pools beneath the desk. And for what? A painting? Art from an artist centuries past. A dead work for dead people. His hand tightens on the suitcashandle. The Pelican. Is it worth this?
It confused them, the gnarled branch lying across rows of newly planted wheat. The tree had been healthy and the weather clear. A bob of bushy fur worked its way along the length of the fallen wood as a squirrel investigated the carnage.
Years from now, when the children had scaled the sheer rock face near their home, they'd think back to this day.
"And now where shall we climb?" the boy asked.
"There," the girl replied, a mountain peak under her finge
"If life were only that easy."
The boy stood up and began his usual every day routine. He reached for his old and torn up sweat pants and applied them to his lower body with ease. He then walked over to his closet and yanked out the first t-shirt that he felt, moving it towards his face.
"It smells, but eh, it is Exodus!"
He put the musty shirt on and made his way into the kitchen. His sister, as usual, was making what he considered the greatest French Toast in the world. He knew that this claim was most...
Outnumbered. Jezebel stands on the ledge, hands fluttering up and down the slick chains. Outnumbered. She tries to breathe, but her lungs are collapsing.
The flavor of hospital-stale, taste of bitter pills and pomegranate streaked on the sheets permeates her stupor, glitterdust before her eyes.
Flash. She is back to the ledge. They dance around her, ritual motions, holding soft torches and reaching out to stroke her draining carcass. Jezebel leans over, testing the water. There is gulping sea bellow, and beyond that, empty. She will fall into the turquoise sheet and then past it, going going gone.
Outnumbered. She...
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!
"There," said Asad. He pointed to the horizon, his eyes crinkled with nostalgia. "That's where I saw her for the first time."
I followed the direction of his outstretched finger. The ocean was cold and dappled by the late afternoon sunshine peering through the clouds. It seemed vast and endless, and I was overcome by the urge to laugh at him.
"How can you be sure of where you saw her? This is the goddamn ocean. It all looks the same!"
"No." He shook his head, a firm, decisive movement. "I know. That is the place where we met. The...
"can you get my squeaky toy for me?"
"OK. where is it?"
"under the couch"
"OK...geez Pancakes...how many toys can you fit under here?"
"i dunno how many are there?"
"Six!"
"well then...six i guess."
And thus began the story of Tall Guy and Zeke Andrew Pancakes.
It started out as a bit of a joke I suppose. I opened a Facebook account and a Twitter account for my dog Zeke. I posted semi-regular interactions between him and I, and much to my surprise everybody played along without even being asked. Everybody treats Zeke as a separate entity and never...