The lunch bell rang. At 11:32 the wide wooden doors would open, letting out the throngs, the odor, the leaden feet. I stood against the wall, my heels pressed against the cinder block. There were the girls in braces and the boys with large pimples on their noses. There were skinny legs in miniskirts and protruding Adam's apples. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of body spray and scented lip gloss and listened to the crunch of paper bags.
I watched them, but they didn't notice me. They grouped around tables like lions around drinking holes, each one in...
Write as you please,
In six minutes,
Like a breeze.
I fear that,
Without a prompt,
The words won't flow,
Compet-
ently.
So I'll leave you this poem,
With it's oddities and misrhymes,
Mismatched verse and rhythms,
Lines that run out of time.
Words that make no sense,
Lines that are too dense,
And of course you must remember,
In this chilly month of September,
That poetry doesn't have to rhyme.
She'd have preferred the electric chair. The clinic's lobby was a stale tan color. It was April, and there was a Christmas movie on TV for Christ's sake.
Her name was called, and she went to sign the form, pay the co-pay, and was assured by the lady at the desk that this was indeed, confidential. She was asked if the man next to her was the father, or her boyfriend, or something. She lied and said no. He looked upset but ultimately should have been glad that she said no, he'd probably end up getting arrested for rape, anyway....
The ice road stretched in an endless arc ahead of them, spiralling and curving amongst the tall pine trees like a child's marble run which had been exquisitely crafted out of snow. The sun was barely able to climb higher than the trees at this time of day, and she felt a shiver as the heater in the old car battled the sub-zero temperatures in mid-January here in the North. Her hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly as she concentrated on getting to the hospital safely, hoping against hope that she would be in time to bid her old...
She looked in the mirror and thought about that one guy. The guy who always smiled her way. The only person every to admire her features. Was there not a single way to ask him? ask him that one simple question? DOES HE LOVE ME!!!! the day had come...
She was ready.
Her entrance was stunning; a slight catwalk into the classroom led by a swift movement of removing her bag's shoulder strap. She waltzed between the desk and made her way to the front of the room. She double checked herself and a burst of confidence ran through her....
The sign is new.
Something in my heart disappears, seeing that new, shiny, neon sign. Of all the things, I had hoped.... I raise a hand to my mouth to stifle the sob that is sure to emerge as it has so many times these past few expectant years. And I nearly walk forward and place my hand on the doorknob, nearly open the door and confront whoever is inside. Maybe it is Min-Jun. She was always nice to me. I wonder whether she has changed?
Of course she has. She must be.... what, twenty-nine now? Yes, twenty-nine. So old....
They crouched to peer beneath the stairs, the grime and dirt on the old hardwood floor unsettling beneath their feet.
"Come on, Benji. Come out." Jorgia slipped her hand into her pocket, grasping a dog treat. She dropped it at her feet in a futile attempt to lure their "lost" puppy out from under the staircase.
Ashley began to pace the hall, scrutinising the mysterious markings etched into the dirty, peeling walls.
"Hurry, Jorgia," she breathed, "We should get out of here soon."
Jorgia inhaled deeply and swiftly slid her small frame underneath the stairs. Engulfed in an atmosphere of...
I leave cookies for him because I know that's what the fat bastard wants. It's an old recipe that my grandmother taught me. Sugar cookies, with red and white sprinkles in the shape of candy canes.
I hide behind the couch. It takes a while but I know he's going to come. He always comes. At about midnight, the logs in my fireplace start to tremble. A puff of smoke appears and then I see him.
He's laughing, the jolly bastard. Laughing and carrying his horrible "gifts". He takes the bait right away, as I knew he would. His mouth...
You know this comforting feeling of nostalgia? It always catches me up, when I look at old pictures, just like this. A life has been live - somewhere between the moment the picture was taken and this moment, right now.
With a picture you can breastfeed the burning desire to stop time.
The picnic table was empty still, except for a few crumbs from the previous diners. A trail of ants crawled over the splintered boards in to reach the bits of old bun. Theo watched them, beer in hand, as he waited for his father-in-law to finish grilling the food.
It was the first warm, sunny day of the year and Theo was joining his wife's family for barbecue. The smell of charring meat on the grill was enticing. The food almost done.
His wife, Sarah, played croquet on the lawn with her older brother and his wife and son.
—Food's...