I had done this so many times before. I had done this so often that it simply felt mechanical now. Everytime, we would walk up to each other say hello, and sit down in our desks. And ever day I felt powerless to do anything about the ache in my heart. But I did know what was causing the ache. It was caused by the fact that, although we were so close to one another every single day and although we spoke every single day, it never went any further. I wanted him to hold me and to tell me...
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...
Da dum de dum, normal day- HOLY SH*T I'M FLOATING. WHAT THE HECK. I'M FLOATING. WAIT A MINUTE HOLD IT IS THAT A PINEAPPLE. WHY IS THERE A PINEAPPLE- oh hey Jenny. Guess what? WE'RE FLOATING. WE ARE FLOATING IN THE SKY. I AM SO CONFUSED. WHY ARE WE FLOATING. AND WHY ARE THERE RANDOM ALARM CLOCKS. THAT ARE ALSO FLOATING. I AM FLOATING. WE ARE ALL FLOATING. WHAT THE HECK.
I have a reputation.
The type of reputation that, when I walk into a room, people smirk or have that flash in their eyes that clearly says "I know what you did last night".
I have a reputation. I'm not that proud of this reputation, I mean, I wouldn't advise the me of the past to do it all over again. But I did do it. I did take that guy up to my room, and I did agree to go on a drive with that guy, and I did let that guy pick me up from work even though...
It was picture day. Mom took us all to the park. The whole family, I mean. It was her, dad, both sets of grandparents, all 8 great-grandparents, my sister, my brother, his kid, and all our aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins and third cousins and their dogs and cats and kindergarten teachers. There were 63,293 of us in all. And mom had us all wear the same thing: blue jeans and red shirts.
We all gathered under the shade of the mighty elm and then the photographer took the picture. She had to take 37 shots to...
I looked back thinking about all of the things in that village. i didn't like the thoughts of that, but i have moved on now and i am hoping that this new apartment block will accept me. i walk in the door, it makes a loud creak and i look at the first desk that is there and there is one person sitting at the desk. as i wait on the comfortable lounge chairs i see her juggling three phone calls along with two computers. i just arrived at what could be my new home with a bit of cash...
"And they thought that was porn?"
"I don't think they would have called it that. Erotica, maybe. But...yes. There's something so innocent about it, isn't there? I love the kimono on this lady here."
"I can't believe you're looking at the kimino."
"This isn't your late-night shocker, this isn't your gorey pop-up nonsense. This is - I suppose it isn't classy as such, but it's... There's something about it. It's old fashioned. Charming in its way."
"They had very different ideas then."
"The world wasn't sexualised, I suppose. Seeing half a naked woman was shocking enough. We're just looking for...
She always felt a little self-conscious about wearing headphones in public. She didn't want to seem anti-social, or too cool, or appear totally oblivious to the bike rider frantically ringing his bell as he approached from behind.
That's why she visited the gardens so much. Not so much for the flowers but butterflies had secrets of their own. They listened to their own songs and drifted through a world of their own. They wouldn't judge her musical tastes and she would be silly to judge theirs. After all, who are the deaf to judge those who can hear in color?
There once was a man in a sphere
Whose outward appearance was queer
He was hard to mistake
For the sphere was opaque
Because he had filled it with beer
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...