BAD by steve

I took a ball, and threw it against the brick wall, to have it bounce back. I threw it again and again, to have it come back, back into my hands. I thought about my decisions, about how I threw away my future, and my life. He told me to do it. I know he did. I blame myself, not him. I threw the ball again, and heard the loud crack of it bouncing of the wall. When I hurled it the next time, I threw it as hard as I could, and rocketed back to me, through my legs,...

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The children were not at school. They were not at home. Monica was frantic at the thought of Danny and Eric being missing. Where did they go? It was 7:30 pm on Wednesday, the day they usually got out early and went to Mrs. Frank's for what they called "playtime" before Monica got home from work. But Shelly Frank said they never arrived off the bus, and the Principal said they didn't arrive at school that morning, and Monica's husband, Max was notified. "That bastard," thought Monica. After 3 years of being absent, Max was still a contact for emergencies...

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It was not a world in which it was advisable to take risks.

It could be argued - had been, by a few scholars, in the deep and distant past, a more romantic age - that risks were always inadvisable, that this was what made them risks in the first place.

But those scholars didn't live here, they didn't live now, they were from a world of chivalry and knights and heroism.

They were not in a world where you were burned if you were caught.

There were marks all over her arms - his, too, they sat beside one...

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"there was blood on my pillow and a noose in my heart"

These country singers were getting downright moros, good though. I flipped the dial on the radio looking for a talk station, always helped to find a little of the local flavor, keep me grounded or at the very least feeling like I was grounded. I was play acting at this and many other lives and I knew it but kept it up.

The telephone poles ticked away - wooshing peripiphialy.

The great desert southwest of my heart was blooming with the rare cactus flower of love.

In a...

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The building appeared one day with only a white-haired gentleman who could have noticed. He didn't however, because he was too busy unwrapping a chocolate bar on the wooden bench he sat at every Wednesday. So only the wind grew unsettled with the sight of the 2-storied Japanese pagoda that shot into place in the middle of Central Park with only a sleek "pop" to give away it's sneak-up appearance.

Almost immediately, a black cat jumped from an overhanding willow tree into the window framed with yellow lacquer slats of wood. The man continued to peel away at the silver...

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Savouring words was a joy to him. Illiterate for many years; he learnt to read and write late in life. His appreciation grew from prose to poetry to haiku. Others laughed that he swallowed a dictionary. He did not understand the derision. Loving words, enabling communication beyond speech seemed to him a peerless gift.

Then he discovered etymology. Suddenly connections between ancient languages and modern English brought a deepening joy and fruitful satisfaction beyond any other pursuit he followed. When some spoke he understood unusual words and could name the orinating language;

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When I was in Beijing, my dear, I saw a small lass with an ape of a face crouched in an alley and weeping for who knows who. I noticed she was wearing the cheap red cape I bought for you in H&M. When I was in Istanbul I saw a knock-kneed street performer whose laugh was the same as yours. Some graffiti that I ran across somewhere on the east edges of Paris resembled your handwriting, when you scrawled notes left for me coming home legless and too late. I say this not to make you think there are...

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You can count me out. I'm over it. Through with you, done with everything....That's a lie. Count me in, it's about time, right? Six years is long enough to be apart. I've waited for this; you, maybe not. Either way, the date's approaching. Count me out, though, it might be a bad decision. No...count me in, I can't wait to see you. Remember that summer? Remember that WINTER? No, no, I can't see you, count me out. Count me in, count me out, I can't decide one way or the other. No, for sure, count me in, what am I...

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My mother never told me you could. But I did. And it was amazing.

I.

Met.

Her.

Now, I know what you are thinking. Some hipster wannabe hooking up with a bespectacled BDSM loving freaky chick over rare Miles vinyl in a second hand record shop in the village. A match dot com advert. But no. Far less interesting than that.

Haribo and limes.

Yes, at salsa class there was a girl I had my eye on. I had already clumsily tried to impress her by doing card magic at her through a window one night as she sat with...

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"Come on, Ben," I pleaded. "Why do you have to do this every time we try to have some family time? You know we hardly ever see each other. It's the holidays, for God's sake."

"There are better ways to celebrate than eating defenseless animals that were cruelly raised and slaughtered on assembly lines," he said firmly.

I snapped. "Oh yeah, Ben, well tell me, just why is it wrong to kill animals? They're not humans, they can't reason like we do. A lot of them are predators too. We need to eat. Why not eat them?"

"Because animals have...

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