Once in beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, studying the minute details of the back of her scull, while her mind twisted through the rails of reality.
One moment Beijing, 2010. The next moment Cairo in the 1940's, then London in the Victorian era, fast as electricity moved down her synapses and shattered through her mind, she was gone again. The great australian plains. The Transiberian Rail. The nineteen hundreds, the dark ages, the Triassic period, the great black wasteland that existed before existence, and in...
The children were not at school. Where were they? Unkown. I am an English teacher at a high school near Houston and, like any other weekday between late August and early June, I was expected a classroom of childen in front on me. Not on this day. The bells rangm yet I heard niothing. I saw nothng. Heck, I didn;t even smell anything! I walked out into the hallway and talked with the other teachers. Nobody had any students in their rooms. I then saw all the princiapls talking with angry words and loud voices. They didn;t seem to know...
The first time I ever saw Eve, she was laying down on a blue picnic blanket that convered a smooth cement floor. She was holding a bundle of pink and purple balloons resting her head on a bright polka-dotted pillow and staring up at the clear blue sky. Her image printed itself onto my heart. I walked up to talk to her and looked down and her dark brown eyes looking up at me. I asked her what she was doing. She took such a long time to answer my question that I was afraid I'd offended her.
When she...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
The warm dirty mist saturates every poor. Across the street relentless construction of new industry raged on erasing the remnants of an older time.
The girl tries to imagine the world as it was, as she has learned in her history books. But now only progress and drives her world. She can not hear or picture the silence or the wildernesses she imagines and longs for. She grows weary of the diminishing magic of the unknown.
Contemptlation of the one. The flame at the center of life. Beginning and end. No beginning, no end.
It's my birfday.
The children huddled around the flame, discussing what was to be done. One suggested that the only possible route was violence, the violence of the oppressed masses against their oppressor. Another suggested that they might take more subtle means of gaining control of the classroom, gain partisans. The teacher came in, and they blew out the candle, acting as though nothing had happened.
Every child around the cake wished that it was his birthday, that he could be the...
The letter was an important one. The boy knew that much. His mother didn't send much correspondence. In fact, she had to explain where the mailbox was at first. The boy had never been sent there. He had merely observed it in his daily comings and goings, placing no more significance on it than on the tree down the street from it or the fence alongside it.
His mother patiently explained where to find the mailbox and exactly what to do to ensure the letter was delivered. He clutched the letter close to his heart as he walked down the...
Wine. The only way I can escape. The bitter taste of beer and harsh sting of liquour, far too much for me to handle. So I drink wine.
The man has been watching me for a while now. The one with no face. There names for him on the internet, there are stories, and jokes.
But there are few believers.
So I keep to myself. When I'm not drinking wine, I search for answers, but that often makes things worse. The more I read, the more real it seems, although to everyone else he is just a story.
I thought...
"I asked you to stop!", my youngest shouts to Juliana, my oldest. While they have been fighting, I have been attempting to clean out small hole. It might be the smallest, but it was the only one unoccupied. Being the oldest mama mouse makes feeding hard, especially when you are the farthest from the kitchen, and closest to the broom. Being the slowest, I am the only one that The Human knows about. It's extremely difficult to protect your babies when you cant' even protect yourself, especially when they are so young they can
The Moon would never be the same again. Not after the things I saw, the things I knew that were hiding there. I could never again look up at night without a shudder, without averting my eyes from the horror of it.
The Moon's sickly light, reflected sunlight turned mocking and wrong, crept in through my shuttered windows. I had taken to taping them up, afraid to go out at night, afraid of what might be there.
They walked down on moonbeams, those horrible things with too many angles, walked down and fed. I remember the first time I saw...
"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,...