Okay, I needed to think. If I went left I would definetly be caught. If I went right, I would also be caught. But if I went straight ahead... I would be an open target. I had no other choice. I looked to the left and to the right, readied myself, and took off. I sprinted as fast as I could acrossc the open field and up the hill to where the man was standing, waiting to collect my information. As I ran, I could hear shouts from behind me but, since the snipers could not recognize me, I was...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. She's even worse at this cat-human hybrid lifestyle than I am, he thought. He laughed derisively. I've got to do something about my derisive laugh, he thought. And maybe start talking aloud.
Matilda was trying to scratch a sofa, and failing miserably. "She's got no claws, that's her problem," he said aloud. Matilda turned and glared. "Oops, I should not have said that aloud," he said aloud.
"Oink," said Matilda.
"No, no, it's meow. Cats say meow. Pigs say oink. We are not pigs." I had...
It was raining and I had nowhere to be and somehow that Leonard Cohen record was on again.
Today I will vanquish nothing.
Today my triumphs will be small and non tangible, smoke like.
I will start with coffee and end with whiskey, the couch will remain the same.
Tomorrow I will be a better man for having lived today slow, reading, sipping - not struggling or scheming. Just the rain and and the mood and my slight beauaty.
The Moon would never be the same again. I don't know what happened. It's my job to research and study the Moon, but not even I can explain why the Moon was bright pink in the sky. All we saw was a flash and all we heard was a huge loud ZAP! A laser beam of some sort hit the Moon and now it's pink. The rest of my team of researchers and I can't explain it. It's just pink. It's probably the guy who shrunk the Moon. It would make sense. But what kind of science can make the...
It's not easy being funny.
People expect things of you. They come to you down in the mouth, looking for a laugh. Most of the time you can oblige them, but it's hard creating something from nothing. I'm not a music box that you can wind up and expect to hear a tune. At least say "please."
I guess it comes from watching too much television. Sitcoms really mold a kid who spends half his day on the couch. That, and a willingness to tell the truth to people's faces.
Anyway, it's easy to ask for a laugh. It's just...
She closed her eyes and disappeared. The notes swallowed her, refusing to let her go. The beat aligned with her heart beat, giving her the illusion of impossible strength. The music grew louder until it was an explosion--as if thousands of butterflies instantly fluttered. She wished she too could fly away. Fly like the waves of the sound. Fly like the butterflies.
But instead, she was bound like the hair on her head. Bound by responsibily. Bound by expectation. Bound by fear of the unknown.
A dapper man bent down and picked up a penny off the cobblestone walkway. A young girl gasped softly as she ducked into a nearby alley. She watched in suspence as the man turned the penny over and over in his hands. That was all the money that her mother had given her for the day and she had been instructed to take it to the baker's shop that afternoon. If she was short by even one penny by the time she reached her shop, she would not have enough to buy any food. The man paused for a moment...
Gigantic.
That was the only way she could describe it. A gigantic mistake.
He had seemed like an excellent choice. A little daring, a little dangerous, but still good-looking. Still smart. Law-school bound and blonde, he could have been taken home.
Waking up in an historic apartment in the Highlands the morning after the Kentucky Derby was romantic. Especially on such a sunny. He pointed out the dog walkers while still wrapped up in white sheets.
She should have never said she knew what she was doing.
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...
Dear one,
Well, I finally made it, I'm in Spain staring out over Santiago de compostella, i always ment to do this with you. I know you know that and as you can see its beautiful here. I wish the accident had never happened i could feel you holding my hand the whole way i swear it. i could hear you whisper at night and damn it if i thought this would help me i longed for you every night i slept in your bag i could smell you. hear your voice in my ear. Damn it! Why did you...