Jolene woke slowly, feeling extremely cold and uncomfortable.
She was indoors, but lying on a cold, carpet-less floor. It was dark, save for a glimmer of light peeking through the outline of a door.
She couldn't remember how she came to be where she was. This realization frightened her; it was not her home, nor any place she knew. She got to her feet and tried to open the door.
It was locked.
A sound of sliding metal; light came through a grate near eye-level. "I see you're finally awake," she heard, in a voice so heavily distorted she couldn't...
My bestfriend Ruth Maina is from Kenya. She just moved here in Lawrence, Kansas with her brother Julius last year. She said, theres so many differences between Kenya and America. Keyna people are so nice and very welcoming people but some other people here in American just cant be nice or friendly. The other differences is the languages and the culture. Now, shes been here for a year she finally get to know more about kids here and their culture. She said, Kenya is the most beautiful place that she ever known, and she really wanna go back home. She...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She held a bowl in one outstretched hand. Her eyes were studying the gravel on the road, not rising to the gaze of passersby who occasionally dropped a coin into her bowl. Her mother was dead, her father was missing, she had no siblings that she knew of, she had only a red gown and a bowl. When the bowl filled with money at the end of the day, as it often did, she would take it to a nearby shop and exchange it for rice...
The scene was peaceful, serene and calming. I stood at the base of the light house and pressed my back against the solid wooden door behind me. I felt the cool mist on my cheeks as the fresh, inspiring air entered my lungs. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The sounds of gulls flying overhead, of the playful waves spalshing against the rocks, all of these soothing sounds filled my mind as I allowed myself to get lost in the wonder of it all. This is what life was meant to be - finding enjoyment in the simple things....
It was his job to paint portraits of people. They'd give him huge sums to paint them. Just look in the mirror, idiots! But it was his living, and he did it well. He lifted his brush to the canvas and glanced back at the young lady, who smiled. He smiled back weakly and started to paint. He loved the way the brush flowed over the canvas like ink out of a pen. It was beautiful. He painted slowly but surely, letting the paint take him where it needed to go. Soon the painting was finished. He showed the young...
Fecking parents. Stupid betches who sent me to some Asiaman country. Like, the Olympics were here or some shit? Margo watched the gymnastics because she says those skinny betches give her inspiration.
So the plane. There's some old shriveled mushroom man who murmurs some language in his sleep. His elbow keeps bumping mine, mind my bubble betch.
Some dude picks me up at the airport. No English, obviously. Why the feck don't you speak English? I thought everyone learns it in school. Whatever. My parents sent me here for culture. Sorry if eating dogs and people yelling squiggly lines at...
After removing the gown and sliding to the floor, she flinched - another splinter. Number four. That is simply too many splinters.
Fen agreed.
In retrospect Philip probably shouldn't have put the bologna in the microwave. But Philip was 32 years old. He still had a childish sense of curiosity about the world. And he wondered what would happen.
For the last month Patty had been bringing her dog to work. A small ratty terrier named Bongo.
It barked at Philip every time he walked by Patty's desk. Not a "Let's play" bark either. More like a "Get the fuck away from Patty" kind of bark. Like he was even interested in Patty, a roundish red head with glasses with an annoying whistle...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It was a cold evening, and it turns out she didn't quite make the cut to be invited to the party. There's no way she could've gone back home, though. The opinion of her parents was so important to her-- having them know that she was an outcast? It wasn't an option.
So she just stood there. Outside, watching all the more popular people go in. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could sit alone in a quiet corner of the restaurant across the...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Being a professional, I have no time for such girls. My life is full of alcohol, women, and meetings. I also work on occasion, but if that were the reason I came into my profession, I would not currently be involved in what I do.
Do I care about the world? Funny you should ask that. Just the other day, I sent a donation to a charity. I felt bad because people are starving... somewhere.
My girlfriend is beautiful. She has done modeling for various designers...