The Moon would never be the same again. I don't know what happened. It's my job to research and study the Moon, but not even I can explain why the Moon was bright pink in the sky. All we saw was a flash and all we heard was a huge loud ZAP! A laser beam of some sort hit the Moon and now it's pink. The rest of my team of researchers and I can't explain it. It's just pink. It's probably the guy who shrunk the Moon. It would make sense. But what kind of science can make the...
Price of a roll of Kodachrome: $5
Cost of the Canon camera: $200
Wage per photo published in Life Magazine: $25
Price per bushel of corn: $2
Day's wages for detasselers: $0.25
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 did it just like they told me to: I jumped. Well, that was stupid. I jumped, I hit the ground and never got up again. But, then again, they don't care. They never even looked to see me land. A piece of advice, kids: don't jump. I don't care why you're thinking about it, where you are, or what you think they'll give you for it, you're gonna lose something. For me, I lost everything, but then again, that doesn't matter.
We were playing a family game of tag. I was the seeker acting as if I was a robber making sure no one was hiding from me. I heard a ringing in my ear. It was nothing but silence and the creaking of the wood beneath my feet. I checked every single closet. But I couldn't find anyone. It was like they had left me here alone trying to find them while they were out doing something fun. I decide to check the basement. I walked don't the slanted wood stairs. I heard the whispers of their v
Spinning. Reams and reams of golden thread passed through her fingers as the spinning wheel conutinued on its endless spiral of revolutions. She had blisters now on all the fingers of her right hand. Blood seeped from under her nails and dulled the glow of the thread as it piled higher and higher on the floor beside her. She wondered what the point was but knew she couldn't stop. He would be back soon and then she would know her fate. Spinning. He said that if she got through all of it he would give her her freedom. She didn't...
He exited the train at Buenos Aires, and was glad to leave the station with its oppressive heat and even worse humidity. He eagerly sought fresh air, but was disappointed; the air conditioning in the station might have been primitive, but it was better than the heat of the blazing sun.
Despite his best efforts, he shivered uncontrollably. "I need a damn drink!" he muttered, and turned in search of a bar. He entered the first one he came to, and slumped at a table, calling for a beer, which the bar tender brought to him reluctantly, though his attitude...
Pulling stitches out. I can do this. it's going to fucking hurt, but I can do it. Maybe I should have eaten first, my stomach is in knots, my heart sunk. That would be the last of the food, and then I would have to brave those beasts. Those fucking beasts!
It had been about twelve months. At first, it seemed laughable. Any science experiment gone wrong in this way, shrinking of huge creatures, or extremely exaggerated growth of the tiniest usually started as a series of late night jokes.
Who would have thought that butterflies of all things would...
I'm a rockstar. And I want to be a rockstar. Doesn't make much sense, does it? Doesn't to me, either. I guess I just want to be a better rock star then my enemy, who is also a rockstar. Hey, guess what my name is? Rock Star. Not even joking. Rock Xavier Star. Idiot parents gave me a guitar for my first birthday and now I'm Rock Star the rockstar. I hate my life.
, he assured the frightened convenience store clerk. The first thing was potato chips. He needed potato chips RIGHT NOW, he told her, or he would literally explode, because there were bombs strapped to him.
Don't worry about the bombs, he said again, trying to calm her down. But get me those potato chips quickly. I want the deep-fried sour cream-and-onion flavored type, he said, speaking slowly and enunciating so that there would be no screw-ups.
He had the advantage. She would be forced to retreat behind the counter, retrieve the bag of succulent potato chips that he knew she...