Immoveable objects.
She'd presumed that they were just an illustrive device - the nemesis of the unstoppable force. It hadn't occurred to her that, actually, they did exist.
Why they existed in a forest was another matter entirely. It wasn't exactly clear (well, the object was, that was why she couldn't see it) why an immoveable object should want to be in a forest. Was there something about forests that made it such a rich environment, suited to objects that resisted force?
Walking around it didn't seem to be an option - immoveable and apparently large. Impossibly large. It was...
In the beginning, he tasted like rainwater: salty. Dried sweat around the rim of his mouth, a taste that clung to his mustache bristles like saltwater taffy.
In the beginning, he was rainwater, and I was a pool. Splashes hit the bottom. He said, you are a the ruin of mankind, rising to the tops of the trees. He said, you make me greedy to reach your destination like a home.
In the end, he tasted like a mountain top. Stretching high above the clouds to breathe a privileged cold. And I was a seed that could not grown on...
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...
I was trying to count them. The little bastards kept moving around, making me lose track, infuriating me to no end. I had been awake for almost thirty hours and sleep was no closer than it had been twenty-nine hours ago. Even my imagination wouldn't collaborate in sending me into unconsciousness. Goddamn sheep.
Sheep and sleep were two very similar words, I decided. I instantly sought to catalog all the words that rhymed with sleep. Bleep, steep, reap, peep, seep, weep, beep, keep, jeep. Meryl Streep.
The original verb still eluded me. It would be a long night (and day).
She walked angrily down the path. She heard a twig snap in the woods to her right. Turning her head, but still moving at a ferocious pace, she decided to disregard it. Perhaps that was the wrong decision but there was no other choice in her mind. Who, after all, has the authority to say what a wrong decision, if there is such a thing, is?
It was a cool night, the only light was glaring from the lampposts along the path. She pulled out a cigarette from the box in her pocket. Pulling her hair back and tying it...
The view was stunning. Marie drew deep, ragged breaths and looked out over the valley below. The climb had been ardous but definitely worth it. The music was coming to a cressiendo and she instincively lifted the headphones a little as the sound got too loud for her. She sighed and smiled. Life was ok. The adrenalin from the climb upp the hill had settled her mind and she was ok. Even though there was only an empty apartment waiting for her back in town she was going to be ok. Life went on, the world still held beauty even...
She stood on the crest of the largest sand dune, her hair streaming in the fierce breeze that had sprung up overnight. The view was stunning, overlooking dunes, common, sea, beach and surrounding cliffs, with the odd lighthouse visible on the distant coastline.
"I have had enough !" she screamed into the wind. "All the constant miserable bickering, the backbiting, the barbed comments, the selfishness, the grumbling under the breath and slamming of doors. I am not going to put up with it any more!" Having vented her anger and frustration, she walked slowly back home, wondering what she was...
It came at me. At a speed of lightning. I couldn't think. Speak, or even hear correctly.
The crowbar was flung directly at the side of my head. It nearly missed my face and I could hear the buzzing of crowbar go through the air. Joe ran for me and the crowbar as I sprinted for a safe place.
Joe and his gang were following behind me. There;s now
"Ugh. I positively hate window shoppers," Eliza groaned while leaning over the counter top. "They never buy anything."
"Hence the name, window shoppers, dearest," Carla giggled softly at her friend who helped her run The Dress Emporium.
They had been working together for about five years now. The shop was doing great, although Eliza would say it could be better. She wishes we could get every person who walks by our store to purchase something.
"Oh, I can't bear to look at them anymore," Eliza folded her arms on the counter and rested her face on them. "Please, Carla. Make...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. This was because I was twisting Arthur's nose instead of the lamp switch. However, this doesn't change the fact that the lamp wouldn't turn on.
"Ouch! Stop twisting my nose," Arthur said.
"Turn on the lamp," I said, twisting his nose.
"Not until you stop twisting my nose," he said. It sounded more like he said "twizdig by dose," which sounds hilarious and just made me want to twist his nose further.
"Never!" I shouted. I wasn't sure why I shouted never, but it felt like the right thing to shout. I could sense Arthur...