I am not the hero of this story
I have abdicated my own starring role
I will live with that
or otherwise
I have chosen a poor teacher
or I have not made a choice
and that is the worst kind of choosing
She is not the villain of the story
I release her
bye
bye
become what you must, teacher, villain, muse
This is not a test
but I will take it
and pass it
with abandon and lust and glee
But it will not make me a hero
It will make me me
Bombs were the last thing on his mind. Literally. Jim was struck dead-on in the head by a warhead, and, naturally, it killed him instantly.
But when Jim regained awareness, it was in a huge warehouse, cordoned off into a long line; others were standing in single-file, inching slowly toward what appeared to be some sort of bank teller's window. From the looks of the line, however, he didn't think he'd be getting service any time soon--the line doubled back on itself at least fifteen times.
Hours passed, people crept, and he eventually got within ten people back of the...
Vanquished.
Seriously, that's how it felt as I walked down the hall back to homeroom. My hands were in the front pockets of my jeans, my head was down. I felt as if all the wind had been taken from my sails. A strong breeze could have knocked me over and I would have just curled up in a fetal ball in front of the beige steel lockers. When the bell rang, people would just step around me as I tried to become more and more invisible.
Mr. Garsh said he was sympathetic. I think they tell him to say...
Zara lay back and stared at the clouds. It had been a long time since she had done this. A long time since she had done anything that didn't involve work, actually. Her bare feet moved across the smooth material of the picnic blanket, as she tried to make faces from the clouds. All around her people rushed past, making sure to move around the crazy lady who was laid in the middle of the town centre.
Her bunch of baloons bobbed in the gentle wind and she was transported back to being five years old. She and her mother...
Giving in wasn't an option. Michael had broken my heart i don't know how many times. Each time, hurting more then the last.
Here he was, running back to me again after his other fling had fallen through. I couldn't give in this time. I didn't want to feel my heart breaking into a million pieces again. "Please, take me Izzy. I'm serious this time it will never happen again, let me prove it to you." "How?" I asked. "Well, let me start with this. Will you marry me?" I was shocked. I couldn't believe I was hearing this. After...
The Skeleton Key was lying on the dresser, as it had for as long as he could remember. It meant more to him now than it ever had-now that he realized what was in the locked chest. She never even considered that he might wonder what was in the chest.
Now, as he arrived home from the hospital, having suffered a minor heart attack, the skeleton key lying on the dresser piqued his desire to finally open the chest. His own chest had been locked up for so long, enclosing his own heart--not fully experiencing what a heart has the...
No prompt today. I'm at a loss. The alarm has gone off as usual, but nothing in the display to tell me what to do, where to go or even what to wear. I'll stay here, in the warm cushion of my sleeper unit. It will reboot soon.
But it hasn't. Nothing has happened. No sounds, no whirring, no coffee. What should I do?
I slide my feet over the side. Naked I search for something to cover my modesty. The blinds stay shut, but I peek through and see no light. No sun. No rain. No people.
I look...
there once was a blank it attacked a man who had no hair. he was a very kind man but nobody could see hi. there are full of mysters in this world that nobody really knows. there was a dragon who attacked kenna boyer then kyle came to rescue her and they got married and babies. then lee Kamp got a divorce with his lady and married kyle and kenna was lonely. then kenna got together with a pink donkey his name was jimbo he loved to make shaped with hands and his feet were as brights as a hipopotimus...
100 feet away, all hell was breaking loose. Everything was going to change, forever - but for now, I was willfully ignorant. I chose not to look through the windows, not to know, to keep the door closed, locked.
Real life was not going to invade my sanctury.
It had been my prison, up until the moment when I had heard that damned siren, the one that we had all prayed would never go off. The one that promised that it was all too late, that everything had gone wrong, that it was too much.
That sacrifices must be made,...
The alligator with the cardboard mouth. The whipped cream on the stairs. Hollow clang. Syncopated clatter.
The brighter colors remind me of childhood. Not that adulthood has been faded yellows or softening greys. But a luminescent green or radiant orange triggers my primary nostalgia.
The set is bare. The slice of bread reads 5 in ketchup. A lazy harmonica.
When time runs out here, it starts over there. Follow the alligator king.