This happened every single time.He stared at the blank piece of paper. It was taunting him. He sharpened his pencil again. He traced the edges of the paper again. He looked out the window. The rain was falling again. Softly. Looking back at the paper, he wondered why he ever tried to write. He put the pencil to the paper, thinking the action would prompt the thought. But it just left a small mark. He smudged it with his finger. If he could just write something. He tried to think about what he was feeling. Nothing. He tried to think...
"Hello Father," she said.
"Ah, my child, I apologize for being late. I was walking around this glorious park. Did you get a chance to see the green trees and all the life that is budding from them? It is truly beautiful here."
"Yes, quite."
"I like you new look. It fits you, of course I liked the way presented yourself before. However, the all black is bit much, my child."
"Always the judge. Am I right?"
He laughed to himself.
"How easily I forget your cunning humor."
A full set sit in front of them. And while she wore...
Outnumbered three to one. And I think A fourth was creeping up behind me. They fanned out across the mouth of the alley and whispered to each other. They walked forward slowly, and together, I chuckled a bit when I imagined them to be a dancing troupe.
They saw me laugh and slowed their pace, not by much, but just enough to show me I had rattled them.
Cold, black steel appeared in their grimy fingers. One knife, one section of pipe, and the lead man pulled a snub-nosed pistol. A .22, a woman's gun. I wondered how close I...
Backwards, triumphant, towering low over this once perfect field of brown and dusk.
held soft in the omnipresent rapture of breathing.
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...
"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...
So I wanted to go to Europe over the summer. I installed some security cameras in my house, because safety, you know. When I fast forwarded through some tapes, I noticed that the goldfish glas was slowly moving. I took some of the other cameras, so that I had extra angles of that goldfish glas. That night, my TV was stolen, while I was asleep in my bedroom. They broke in, stole my TV and all I could see was that goldfish. But that doesn't matter, because my goldfish is awesome. It is the best pet one could ever have....
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...
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 lost my grip on the wheel. It had happened before, but it wasn't nearly as embarrassing as now. I had just left P.E. with a friend of mine, rolling up the steep hill from the gym toward the vocational building. As usual, I made my slow way up that hill, my forearms and biceps flexing as I pushed my wheelchair, struggling but too proud to ask for help.
Then, again as usual, I approached the next decline, a cement hill with a white awning over it. With a grin, I pushed down and let go. As usual. But, then...