In a world where walking was obsolete, Pat often wondered what the ground would feel like beneath his feet. Would it be spongy and soft, giving just a little with each step? Perhaps it was cold and hard, slippery like ice. Sure, hovering about everywhere was convenient and not at all physically demanding, but he longed for his feet to, just once, touch the earth below him.
Everybody knew, though, that if you touched the ground, you'd instantly explode. Pat didn't feel like exploding any time soon, so he just kept on floating. Damn those scientists and their exploding topsoil...
Sweet agony awaits me everytime I wake. Now don't get me wrong, I'm in no way a life hating specimen, you can call me an over analyzer.While the rich eat caviar and the poor beg for money, I try to see the use of my math homework. Trying to understand the use of knowing how to use algebra, speak French, or know how a global economy is set up. Somewhere deep inside I know that this school system is for my own good, and mother always used to tell me that to be someone I'd have to have a diploma....
Vanquished, that was how they wanted me to feel as I knelt there on the cold flagstone, my head bowed, my hands clasped.
I could hear the echoes of the crowd marching up the street and knew that they would be upon me soon, their torches ablaze, their spirits hungry for blood.
I was to be renounced as a witch, that most reviled of creatures.
My fate was no longer in my hands, I was to surrender that along with my freedom and my life when the mob broke into my sanctuary.
Because I had dared too love too much,...
The sun set. My boat had stopped drifting. The Delaware River between New Jersey and Pennsylvania was calm. The rain stopped, the crickets chirped, happy with the still summer air. My bathingsuit was finally dry. The only problem with that river is not having shelter on either side from a rainstorm. I watched the residents of the river banks put umbrellas over their heads while grilling. Some took their dogs and children inside. The teenagers laughed, and had mud fights. The rain stopped, the grillers closed their umbrellas, the dogs came out to play, and the teenagers stuck their feet...
As I clench the sweet smelling flowers in my hand, I stare into his perfect emerald eyes.
In this moment I remember why I love him so much. Every moment that I am with him, I feel warm, comfortable, free.
The sun smiles at me and the breeze sings a song that calms my racing heart, though I do not know why it is racing. I look down to see his emerald eyes, now staring up at me. I am captured by them, though then I am drawn to something else- his hands. Within them lay a velvet navy box....
It faded.
The pictures always did, but somehow they'd hoped this one would be different. It was more special than the others, it meant so much more - but no. It faded, just like the others.
It became an odd family ritual, to kiss the cheek that had faded before leaving the house, like you'd kiss a mother - it didn't matter that it was a picture of a film star, one they'd never meet.
He was winking. Maybe that was what made him good luck.
Mia had collected pictures, that had been the point of it - pictures cut...
The message was received.
"Prayers are needed for a friend. he has cancer."
Horrible! Terrible news!
Certainly not the kind to be wished upon anyone.
Within minutes the responses were coming in.
"Right on it Buddy!"
"My prayer list is never too long!"
"I'll be shouting out to the Big Guy!"
And I sat and wondered!
Is this same guy who said all gays should be dead?
Is this the guy who said all Muslims are terrorists?
Is this the guy who said all poor and homeless people deserve to be poor and homeless?
I sat and wondered, "What is...
He stood inside the pen, staring out at the approaching truck warily. It was a large vehicle, blood red with a black stripe down the center and dust billowing out behind it as it drove down the dirt road. Slowly, the truck came to park outside of the house and the driver's side door opened.
There came a grunt as a black wheelchair was pulled out and onto the ground. The dog's tail immediately began to wag as he saw the sandy-haired man open the chair, then plop a cushion into the seat. Another grunt and the broad-shouldered man was...
Deep into the meadows of the South
I see a bus pulled up in front of the common store.
Above my head are alluring clouds
I have never seen before.
Things like this are rare.
No one visits my small Southern town.
Where things are bound to happen.
Spellbound.
Do you think that bus is skeptical?
I do.
There are no visitors in this town.
Whoever comes in
Never gets out.
I learned the hard way.
It was a pleasure to burn.
All things, it was.
Paper. Incense. Even skin.
Yes, especially skin.
They all had particular smells- those things which he burned. Paper smelled of ash and dried, hot trees, as in the desert, the heat so thick and juicy you could drink it, pour it inside of you, fill yourself with warmth in a way which standing in front of a fire, rubbing your hands together did not even thouch.
Incense- he supposed it ought to be different, depending on the smell. He only ever bought sandalwood, nothing else and so he didn't...