He heaved a sigh as he walked down the hallway. The revolver hung heavy in his hand. He had no idea what model or brand or whatever the gun was supposed to be. He'd gotten it at a pawn shop for $15, along with a little blue soldier toy for a mere 50 cents. It was cheap. The paint on the toy was chipped, but its expression of determination haunted him.
He was exhausted. He was done. He couldn't take this any longer.
"Hey, kiddo..." He called. He'd reached his son's room. This was probably the first time they'd talked...
My mother was not svelte. She spent her life washing clothes, lifting children, and hauling sacks of potato and flour from the market to our small apartment in Flushing. My father frequently looked at the Sears catalog, commenting on the models within. "Why don't you look more like this one?" he would ask, as though the answer weren't obvious. My father did not look like Marlon Brando (young), and my mother did not look like Marlene Dietrich. Yet somehow, I never heard my mother ask my father why he didn't look like this one. Long suffering, some might say.
She...
The dapper man picked up a penny. It was the most gorgeous penny he had ever seen, its beauty shone in the afternoon sunlight, and he thought it reminded him of his youth. This old dapper fellow had been standing on the corner and observed from the corner of his eye this glistening copper object. several minutes before he had been thinking of how his wife had undercooked the roast and he had thrown his wheelchair at her,luckily she dodged and it only hit their crippled son henry. so she sent the old dapper fellow on his way and took...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Two potted cucumbers stood to the left of the doorway, vines climbing twined round trellises up the stucco, the few cucumbers skinny in the middle from lack of rain, though it rained now in gusts and sputters, droplets momentarily darkening her gown.
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. There was scant shade from the clear noonday sun in the inset door. Two cats lay lazily in the sun. She idly stroked one, the calico, under the chin.
Once,...
In order to choose her shoes, Chloe consulted her "Big Book 'o Footwear" every morning while getting ready. Whenever she bought a new pair of shoes, she'd put them on and snap a Polaroid of her feet so she could get a decent idea of how she'd look in them without actually having to try them on. Her fiancee thought this was ridiculous, but she thought it was quite a time-saver. Plus, he had no room to criticize--he often brushed his teeth while peeing.
It was dark, cold. I felt the wind, colder than ice, blow into my face a large number of sharp ice crystals. "Where am i?" i thought. I walked down a hall, made completely of ice. The air was not only cold, but had a bitter smell to it: like torture and an evil queen. I walked into a throne room, by the looks of it, anyway. The only spot of color in the room was the bright yellow hood the person standing before the queen wore, and it was quickly fading. The first thing i noticed about the room...
Who is that person in the corner of my room? is it a person? is it an animal of somekind? Perhaps I should have looked more closely. I mean, come on? How did that person, that thing, get into my room? If it is a person, I'll bet it's the kind of person who thinks its funny to disturn a teacher's class when they are tyriong to do an activity that will benefit eveyrone, because on the STAAR test, well...you know what that test is all about. if it is a person, and that person did make me upsetin that...
"What'll it be?"
"Jack."
"Want ice."
"No."
The bartender pours the brown liquid into a tumbler. I wait patiently.
"First time here?"
"No."
I take a swig and end up downing the whole glass. I point down at the empty vessel. He answers my request.
"Funny, I don't remember seeing you come in here before."
The place was a empty. It was late on a Tuesday, understandable why there wasn't a crowd in here. The lights were dim and mahogany colored bar reflected what little light it could find.
"Yeah, it was a couple of months ago."
I point again....
The sound reverberated through the streets. The sound of the mob on the move. Fear clouded her mind and she acted on pure instinct, she had nothing else to work with. She ran.
Had she been able to think clearly, she would have been surprised about her instinct to run, always considering herself much more of a fighter, but run she did.
Down alleys, through gaps in fences, turning often, doing everything in her power to escape them. Everything but use the gift, the curse for which they were hunting her.
She had been hiding her abilities for so long...