As I look into the sky, the moon rises from its slumber showing its beauty in the night sky. The stars sit close to the moon, closer than before. As the lights in all the houses turn off and the children hop into bed, I see a star. A start like no other. Speeding like lighting towards the moon. I question myself, 'is it a star?'. The 'star' hits the moon spinning it off track. I look down at the wharf, the water surrounding the land has frozen. The tides no longer come crashing in. I stand and stare at...
We were to meet in the gallery. The glass one, stone fronted with tiles. It is an old place, no longer fashionable. It looks out onto a street where buses no longer run and rubble fills the roads. He said he had a message to give me. The way it was said, it did not imply that the message was from him, but only that he was a messenger, of the most unwilling kind. What inconvenience it must cause you, I might have argued, to have to meet up with me in such way. What a task your people as...
the colours were too bright and he couldn't make out what the picture was. Joe liked to go the the gallery on a Thursday night because they opened late and he could visit there after finishing his stint as a bike courier.He squinted at the painting in the modern art section and wondered if his bid to seem interesting by going to an art gallery would ever pay off. He spotted a sad- looking girl standing by the darkened window and debated what his opening gambit should be, most of the things he had tried on his previous visits had...
I can still see the shadow of the hooded unknown, swaying back and forth whilst wielding a gun. The fumes of gun power turn into a haze, accumulating each time they pull the trigger. The blast of the gun temporarily makes my ear deaf and the sound of shots reverberate each time. the taste of smoke is bitter with the metallic taste of blood flowing out of my bitten cheek mixing in concoction. Fragments of glass scatter among the concrete floor of the prison, glass webs hanging on from the edge of the window frame, the only thing still intact...
Birds. I hate badminton. Eye-hand coordination was never my strength.
"You'll have fun," Fanny told me.
I hate how the little birdies fall apart if you step on them. Which I always do. They're easier to miss, fallen in the long grass like puffs of dandelions.
"Tell her to play," Fanny told her brother. We avoided eye contact. Like we always did when she was around. Our secret.
"You'll have fun," he said, not looking at me. "I'll let you win."
I didn't want to beat anybody, least of all him. I wanted to fold him in my arms, cradle...
She could tell I was faking it. The smile across my face only a slight glimmer of what it once was. Telling my wife I loved her used to be so easy; kissing her face, brushing my fingers in her hair. They were all lies now.
I had only just found out a bit ago about her affair. Long done and over with, it had been with a colleague of mine back in 2002. It only lasted a few months and all the while, I had no idea.
It has been eight years since that time, but only now am...
The night had finally come, the date that I have been waiting for all week! My boyfrend was planning to take me out on a speical day, tho he wasen't telling me where we were going. I was so excited, that I had tears streaming down my face. He was almost here at my house to pick me up, I was rushing, I had to put on my makeup, get dressed, take a shower and I had to make sure that I looked good. OMG he is here!! He arrived in his mercedes benz, wow I am gobsmacked, off we...
Dishes. Toaster. Coffee. Napkins.
Her breakfast routine was always the same. She performs it today as she did on so many days before, and as she would on every day for the rest of her years.
She brushes the tablecloth clean, while she waits for the coffee. She quietly assembles everything: sugar, milk, scones, jam. She does not speak.
She painstakingly sets two places, attentive to every detail. Her cup of coffee would receive two spoonfuls of sugar. The far cup would receive three. Always three.
The toaster signals that breakfast is ready. She pours the coffee, lays out the...
I see his face in my mind's eye and feel my chest being lit on fire. It's not fair. Everything is so perfect when I'm with him, but I always have to wake up and come back to the cold reality that he is only the
Man of my Dreams.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to make his image disappear from where it has burned onto the backs of my eyelids, forming each time I close my eyes again. I feel like screaming at the unfairness of it all until I have no voice left for anything but...
A breeze is a current of air
A portent that hasn't a care
For the cold that it causes
...
..
Please forgive me these pauses
The author was killed by a bear