The bear was furious. That much we were sure of. This had been its cave, and we'd simply marched in, claws bared, claiming a challenge, ready to fight. It had been nothing against the bear, per say. We'd simply needed a place, to stay, and this was the first shelter from the rain we'd found. It was simple, and it was away.
Away from all the hustle and bustle of the city, the terrible overload and smell and sound and sights; a wonderful palette for the senses to sample, yes, but far too much. We had simply taken it wrong,...
A chicken tried to cross the road
Upon which fate had last bestowed
A fetid mess of flesh and gore
From those who tried to cross before
The other side was just in reach
When road and fate allied to teach
The chicken's desperate, futile cause
Was ended by a couple cars
Ridiculous. This whole argument was absurd but we were going to have it anyway.
"If you heard it, why didn't you pick it up?"
She looked honestly confused but it seemed obvious to me. I scowled at her. "Why is this such a big deal? Yeah, I heard you drop it but I didn't know it was meant for me."
"Did you think it was trash?" Exasperation now threaded her voice and her arched eyebrow told me there was no way I was going to win this one.
"Well, I certainly didn't think it was some super-secret message that I...
They were outnumbered and they knew it. J'nox lifted his six-shooter as he and his comrades prepared to defend the herd of hippogriffs with their very lives. The elf's upswept ears strained to hear every sound, every muttered word from the enemy as he shifted in his saddle, the pegasus beneath him pawing at the air. It was a beautiful day, he thought grimly. A good day to die, and take as many of the savage dwarves with him as he could.
Suddenly, those short people attacked, their twisted beards flapping in the wind as they hooted, hollered, and raised...
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;
The earthy smell of autumn leaves surrounded me and stimulated my senses. The crisp crunch of leaves was projected through the isolated valley as I gaped ahead at the distant disturbance. Harsh rustling and twigs snapping told me that this wasn't wind. This was a predator. My heart raced, its beats rapid and echoing through me. I tried to run but my legs were plastered to the ground, heavy as cement. And then I saw it.
A heart is a beating machine. It's an organ, it's a force beyond all reckoning.
The doctor will now see you," said the nurse in all white.
I glared, knocked over my coffee and walked behind her, moving towards my fate. I would hear that my beating heart skipped beats-a heart murmur. Murmur echoing in my head. Mumu-a dress I wore in Hawaii as a young girl. My mother was in Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked.
The doctor was in the room before I was. Is this a good sign. He's anxious to tell me my heart will explode....
like a breeze?
this prompt sucks, she said as she typed away. thoughts aflutter even while she cursed whoever suggested it.
wasting time. time. like a breeze. sucksucksuck
sucking me out of existence, whooshing me past all opportunities. the wind too strong to lift my arm to grab the hand of the One thing that might save me from wasting more.
and yet, i experience. time flying by, whirlwind, and little i. left with the experience. like a breath. the wind.. swirled into the lung. exhaled, expelled, exploded back out.
all connected.
does wind have any way of Not be...
Emotions are tricky things. They are the things that fill us with that warm, semtimental feeling that we get in our chest while our hearts are busy taking picture so as never to forget the beauty of a moment. That emotion we might call love. They are the pounding of blood running pushing its way through our ears, sweat streaming down cheeks, and our breathing heavy and laboured. That emotion could be named fear. They are also heaviness that seeps through our body after a long day of disappointment and getting nothing done. This is discouragement. But emotions, good or...
It is muddy. I went for a walk and there was mud everywhere. Even in the woods, which are supposed to be haunted, But I dont care. I am suicidal so if I get killed by a ghost or a goblin, it's no skin off my back.
I entered the forest and I got mud all over my slippers. Up ahead there was an animated scarecrow holding a scythe. "Hello," I said. The scarecrow cut off both my legs. Blood flew everywhere. But then my stumps started to itch and throb and vibrate. From them grew pogo sticks. My legs...