The building I lived in was old, rusty around the doorknobs, the 14th floor was still half under construction. The week of Thanksgiving would be my last there. I was moving Upstate; the leaves were gone, but I knew I needed a change. I had a flashback to 7 years ago, when I was 19. As I was packing my boxes from my soon-to-be-old apartment, I remembered standing in the middle of the road, staring at that white house. I looked left, then right. To the right of me were the woods, an eerie glow radiated toward me. To the...
"So, did your dog eat your homework?"
"No... You won't believe me so it doesn't matter anyway."
"You always have had a vivid imagination. Which I take pains to appreciate. Go ahead. Why weren't you able to prepare for the test?"
"I had been studying for thirty minutes - which is why I aced the radicands portion - when all the sudden there was a rumbling groaning sound from next door. I couldn't focus. I looked outside my window and across the alleyway was a huge green bass flopping about screaming."
"Uh?"
It felt like I was just waking up. I shook my head. I looked at my surroundings. A boxing ring. People cheering. Is there an ape in the crowd?
Who am I?
I'm German. I'm a boxer. People are expecting something from me. Act German.
I did a militaristic dance, taking no joy in it like I might once have. I knew my opponent. We had been in the ring before.
He beat me then, I knew he'd beat me now.
I shouted something in German. I knew no one would understand me. It didn't matter. I went into the...
She cradled the faun's head and he went to sleep.
I had read the final line of the bedtime story about a thousand times, well that is what it felt like and each time Suzie reacted as though it was the first. It made me wonder about the magic words from the authors of these kinds of stories. Did they have any idea just how powerful they were? To instill such feelings in the children listening they could hear the same story over and over yet always hear something else?
Often when my eyes were too tired to read, I...
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"Wait, so he hit you?" "Yep." "Right in the nuts?" "Right in the nuts." "But, why?" "Well, you see...
When I entered that store, I had only one thing in mind: beer. I went straight to the aisle, grabbed a six pack of the usual, took off to the counter, handed it over to the nice cashier, and payed. But before I got to the door, the cashier called me back. She said, that that old man behind me in line told her, that I stole that six pack from him. I went over to talk to him, but before...
Sal was in love.
A part of her felt that she'd always been in love, and almost each time with a different man. But this time she knew it was real. For this man, she'd been in love with twice.
Sal had first met Harold two years ago, when he was about to be hit by a falling piano. That was when she'd known it was love most true, love most divine.
If Sal possessed anything close to an introspective nature, she may have realised that each and every time she fell in love, it was with someone on the...
My sister signed me up for yoga the day before yesterday. And all I could think about were the yoga girl's toenails. She was the participant in front of me, on a pink mat patterned with yellow flowers. Sitting in the most uncomfortable position of my life, it was her toenails that bothered me. Sitting 10 inches in front of my face, yellowed and cracked, with an attempted cover up of aquamarine polish. "Excuse me, " I wanted to say, "That toenail polish does nothing for you." Or perhaps, "Excuse me, could you help me get my elbow out of...
The woman at the window was dead. I knew because it was my sister. She appeared whenever we left the house. We no longer looked around up at the top floor to see the dark shape behind the thin lace curtain. We had seen her too many times before, her wretched, contorted face imprinted on our minds.
Martha died in a house fire seven years ago. Accident after she left a burning candle on her bedside cabinet overnight. It tipped over as her blankets were thrown back during a nightmare. Dad couldn't reach her in time as the room had...
"It was just like all the others.
"Fear. Defense. Anonymity.
"Just enough of the subject's face had been blurred so we couldn't discern their identity. Another one of the Foundation's pieces of work, no doubt.
"It was just too much. Too many people had turned in photos like this. The same damn camera, and the same damn style. Always in the middle of nowhere, with one person fearing for their life, as if the camera itself were the entity attacking.
"There were other varying problems with this one, that the other pictures did not display. This subject's head was turned...