Maybe we all do. Maybe we all did. Precious things like our youth framed by handle bars, the hole dug beside the roots.
When I first got the hang of whistling, I sang at the birds. But I was just the needle through which they thread. Winter was rolling down those cooling autumn hills. The flocks were heading south for those mountains.
There was gold in those mountains, precious like the air between a frame.
"Obtain the marionettes!" Fox's tone was commanding.
'Obtain', thought Fred. That was just like Fox: always using a big word when a small word would do. He could have said 'get' instead of 'obtain'. But then, again, Fred's mother had told him 'get' was a terrible word and it should be avoided.
"Are you listening? Did you hear me?" Fox bellowed.
"Sorry. Yes," said Fred. "Get the marionettes."
"Use force if so required."
'Hit the bastards if you need to,' Fred translated to himself. He pummeled his right fist into his left palm to show Fox that he'd understood.
He...
Rouge.
"That's right men, put up the flag. We are no longer the lone-star state, but the lone-star ship!" Captain Johnson bellowed in a frenzy.
The ship's red phone began to ring.
"No. No, we are not coming back from this tour - You can call us Pirates if you want to. No. We will not come back, we are tired of this war. We are tired of these living conditions. And most of all, my men are tired of this food. I will not listen to reason."
Captain Johnson was cut off by the distant rumbling of a torpedo...
Falling forward, I'm falling free, falling from the tips of trees.
Falling in love, I'm falling too fast, falling for something that never will last.
Falling to pieces, I'm falling from stars, falling from heaven wherever you are.
Falling in winter, I'm falling through breeze, falling down onto my knees.
Falling for you, I'm falling from grace, falling only to land flat on my face.
Falling from above, I'm falling far below, falling where nothing ever will grow.
The sounds of the protest reverberated through the streets. Police on horseback formed walls, blocking the side streets, helicopters hovered overhead. The crowd pulsed and moved like blood in the veins. We held placards and shouted in time. People banged on drums and pots and pans and clapped their hands. Sirens wailed on either side.
Steel gates were pulled down or across the glass of storefronts. The media had terrified the small business owners and that terrified the public and then screamed about how we need to be stopped.
The fact they missed the point wasn't important. The fact they...
I have always been a walker. Not a wanderer - that is what I sometimes hear them calling me now. No, I have always been a hiker. Someone who flings a rucksack on their back and dons big boots - leather ones are best, although you do have to work hard to keep them soft and supple. Dubbin is the answer. I used to have some once. Wonder what I did with it. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. I have always been a walker and, believe me, I've done some of the hardest and most challenging walks in the...
It approached. Lisa's heartbeat quickened, her skin growing clammy, the room swimming. Oh my god, she thought, this can't be happening.
It came further - black and menacing, eyeing up it's latest victim.
Lisa knew she should do somehting, but fear had paralysed her. She couldn't think straight.
It stopped. Staring. Staring straight at her. Probably waiting to pounce.
She scanned the room, desperately looking for something she could use as a weapon. Nothing. Nothing that would do much damage, what could she do throw a pillow at it?
Without warning, it began to move again; faster than before. Almost...
'Vanquished. V-A-N-Q-U-I-S-H-E-D. Vanquished." Poppy smiled, proudly, scanning the audience for her parents. There was her mother, beaming at her. Camera in hand, ready to capture every last moment of the Spelling Bee. Her mother was so embarassing, thought Poppy, but at least she cared. Her eyes flickered across the room, until they settled on her father. As usual, he was standing at the back, his eyes glued ot his Blackberry. Typical. at least he was here, usually he missed every dance competition, every spelling Bee, every sports day. He wasn;t really there, though. His body might be standing there, but...
Dressed as a blue cow-like demon, the boy started taking pictures of the wall. The camera was heavy in his small ungloved hands. When he pressed the red button on the top an audible click could be heard and helped persuade him to take as many pictures as quickly as possible to hear that sound in rapid succession.
The camera was his fathers, an old one, one that was locked up until the recent garage sell his mother had. When she got to the box labeled 'Dave's' she sat on it and cried. It was a welcomed moment and she...
I didn't mean to do it- Honest to God, I swear he left me no choice. It was like he watered down my tea on purpose, just to irritate me. And he was always acting so suave to my mistresses, as if he owned the goddamn place. So yes, I shot my butler. But not to kill him or anything, really, I just wanted to scare him a little, I was never gonna pull the stupid trigger or anything. So I pull out the measly little hand gun, and he just goes white as his dainty little gloves he was...