"I hate her." He spit his words, I knew the taste of her still rested on his tongue, and he gave everything he had to saying those three words with such a vile tone. "Listen, I think maybe this time you guys should-" "No." The way he looked at me, at first with anger, and now with the confused sadness I had once felt a few months back, I felt heartbroken for him. "Maybe it didn't work out because.. maybe it didn't work out because I was still in love with someone else." I know it sounds stupid, and corny,...
He was a walking arsenal with knives strapped to his armor at forearms, biceps, chest and back. Two smaller throwing knives protruded from his boots. Across his back, a large Claymore peeked over his head.
He was a walking arsenal. Deadly. Powerful. Angry at the world. His deep black eyes burned with flame. His lantern jaw was clenched with determination. He eld himself erect, his arms resting easily at his sides. Suddenly, the call came and he swept into the undead hordes ahead of him, knives leading the way. His word came out at the last instant, slashing through the...
He set the plate before her. It steamed, smells of carmelized meat and cinnamon wafted up to her nose. "This is my lust."
He still spoke with inflection, they had not dined upon his theatricality, his sense of timing, his desire to surprise. There was an order to these things, and while he still had that order, he would continue. The assembled guests mumbled their appreciation, though Dowager Harriet was still chewing through the last bites of his shame.
When the Boddhisatva-to-be had announced this meal, the good and great had tittered that he had finally lost his mind. Spent...
Mitch sits on the porch steps. He see his daughter near the tire swing. She spins and spins and spins, her tight blonde curls flying around her as the late evening breeze weaves its fingers through her hair. He thinks of how much she looks like an angel. The force of her delightful twirling sends her tumbling back into the soft grass beneath her. Mitch looks to his wife resting her head on his shoulder as she sleeps and smiles. This is their life and it is good.
me and my sister have always been fighting. scince the day we could walk we always fought untill now. we were walking looking for a perfect gift and we saw it ....... the black dress. i always loved to try and make new fashions out of things yet my sister always followed the rules. if your dress was a millimeter too short she would tell. i had decided already that i was going to get the dress and make a new one but my sister would not let that happen . she wanted it for my mother, my mother was...
"I really do hate these balloons," she said as she lay on the ground, trying to decide whether she should use the pink and purple as a theme for her rooftop party later that evening. She hadn't even wanted to throw a party in the first place. Her friends came up with the idea, and like always, Kiersten was pressured into organizing it all. She got up and walked around the roof, carefully checking the tables she had set up earlier. She had a knack for organizing and making things look nice. And although she was great at it, she...
Upon my soft upholstered chair
I sat and spoke into the air
For they were listening, you see
The ones who come and sit with me
I cannot see them, though I try
Their form is but a wistful sigh
More solemn than a flow'ring tree
The ones who come and sit with me
I have no proof that they exist
But still my thoughts of them persist
A secret kept? A fantasy?
The ones who come and sit with me
My audience in silence waits
As softly I pass though their gates
"Yes, I know that she murdered someone. A terrible accident, if I do recall."
"An accident? She killed her husband when she was 25 because he was fucking his secretary. Remember."
"I do remember, but she repented and now is attempting to live a peaceful life. Can't she have that?"
"Why do you love them so much? They are disgusting, and I hate being here. The only we reason we had to leave was because you loved them more."
The earth shook for an instant, as the old man moved his king.
"Lucifer, I will not have you speak about...
One rainy street was much like another, it turned out. It didn't matter where in the world you were, whether it was city or town - it was the same.
People acted the same. They hustled and bustled, tugging coats around them, hoping that collars could be turned up and their necks could be saved from uncomfortable raindrops. Some - prepared ones - had umbrellas, using them as a more sophisticated method (supposedly). They wore smug smirks - until they bumped into one another.
Nobody had perfected walking down a street of multiple umbrellas.
They all rushed, eager to escape...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She gazed upwards towards the empty whiteness where the sky used to be. Outside, the streets were filled with people doing the same. Cars had screeched to a halt. Things were dropped, and dog leashes let go of.
The sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds - nothing was there. Only, they weren't looking just at the nothingness. All eyes had narrowed to the one dead pixel. Hanging in the sky, like a tiny afterglow of a tiny what-used-to-be.