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...
"It's simple," he said. "A simple plan for world domination. The Moon is the key. People need the Moon. So if we threaten to destroy the Moon, everyone in the world will have to do what we say."
This guy was ranting and raving. I sighed, and continued to humor him. "How the hell are you going to destroy the Moon? It's massive. Do you have any idea how massive it is?"
He waved his hands dismissively. "We don't even need all that much destructive power, just enough to produce a credible threat."
"Even if you had a credible threat,...
Det kom en dag i hodet på meg. Og jeg så det aldri før enn da. Det var noe som hadde hengt over meg i lengre tid. Jeg visste det var på tide å snu. Jeg visste at jeg en dag ville jeg angre og en dag ville det hele virke meningsløst. Jeg så aldri tilbake. Men nå skulle jeg endelig snu. Det skulle bli min tur å være den gode, jeg er lei av å være den som alltid må gi - jeg trenger å få noe jeg også. Jeg trenger nærhet. Jeg trenger varme. Jeg trenger en som...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "There'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead. I am out of food, out of electricity power for the radio, and abandonded in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. I do not know how or what happened that led up to the plane crash all I know is that I managed to survive two weeks on the scraps I found in the plane and a nearby pond. This is my last statement to the world if anyone finds this, I am going to travel north...
The moon was up and bright, I would hear the trees sing to it's glory and sight. I always wanted to go to the moon, and uncover it's mysteries that it holds. I walked down the street as I glance up still. "Oh moon so bright, where do you do after the night?" I didn't know much about the moon being only a small fairy but I like to dream big. I flapped my small wings like a humming bird and sit on top of a small branch of an old ancient tree. "A girl like me will never know...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
She was crouched over an open laptop, her scowl lit up by the screen as she stabbed cmd+R repeatedly. The browser blinked frantically as it reloaded the same white text area on the same light blue background over and over and over again.
"It's past midnight in the U.S.," she muttered. "Why hasn't the prompt been updated yet?"
She scrolled down the rest of the page, cmd-clicking every link until the Twitter page popped up.
"GODDAMMIT," she cried, 'THEY'RE ON THE WEST COAST."
You're forgetting what happened and remembering what didn't
I'm now your memory and have given up mine
When you're gone
Will that be a blessing or a curse?
I lash out in frustration
But the strike is soon forgotten
And I'm the one left wounded
Twice over
You forget what happened
And I remember for you
And in doing so
I have given up the last pure memory of childhood
I'd trade, you know
You take mine, I'll take yours
But I think you'd find my memory
A bitter thing
You forgot
I remembered
What happened?
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.
"Can you believe it?" she breathed, eyes wide enough to take in the whole panorama.
Venice was empty. The sun hazed behind a gauze of clouds, glinting off the bows of the gondolas that knocked rhythmically against their moors. As we walked across the worn cobbles, I pointed out the bridge of sorrows. Years ago, prisoners were taken from some sort of religious court to their plight, and their wails left echoes that hadn't quite dispersed yet.
The plaza was magnificent, rid of all people - and the pigeons were scarce too. The bell tower was mighty and the palace...
It was cold. Freezing, really. There at the stoop, on the street, glowing in red. Dark, straight hair raking her face. She shivered, stood and walked down the street. To me, this place is foreign. To her, she knows the environment like the stories her mother told her. She walks down the road away from the doorway. Where they threw her out. Spit on her. But now she walks down the road trying to keep warm. She coughs. The shivers shake her again. The cold day drops her onto the street, rejecting her and the brightness of her clothes. The...