Six minutes. You wouldn't think it a long enough span of time to affect anything. Anyone.
And yet.
It's time enough and more to change your life. My life.
We were given six minutes. The span between one time slot and the next.
Six minutes to explain.
Six minutes to speak.
And I couldn't. There was nothing I could say to erase what I did.
So.
I kissed her.
Again.
And this time she melted into my arms.
Wrapped hers around my neck.
And for six minutes it was perfect.
Bliss.
Until the buzzer rang. And someone rapped on the...
Midnight on the roof and I am still standing in the same place he left me. This wasn't what I had planned; losing my virginity on the tar and gravel roof of the Shop and Save. Especially when the guy that took it was hiding from the cops.
His breath smelled like gummy worms as he kissed me. His hands cold as icebergs, I just wanted it over and done. I was tired of being the only nineteen year old that never knew what it felt like to...you know, do it.
I didn't expect it to be so quick. Fast...
Heather didn't like being out in the rain. She was going to get even with that bastard Gene - how dare he dump her in such a manner, in the middle of nowhere. She eased the strap of her high heel shoe where it was rubbing, and turned to look back up the street. The road glistened black in the wet night, and the streetlights merged into the puddles. She began to walk, planning what she would do. For a start, she had his key, she realised suddenly with a gleeful grin. He wouldn't be able to get into his...
Joey stood sucking on his wine gums. Lime was his favourite, tart and bitter; made him think of summertime grass and his turtle Matlin. Today was supposed to be a fun day; his Mum had brought him to the theme park. He 'love' it she had said. He wasn't so sure. So far he didn't like it but he was trying to pretend. Otherwise Mum would be sad again, and she'd been so sad lately. And angry. She was angry at Daddy because Daddy couldn't come to the theme park. Joey didn't mind though as Daddy had given him two...
Marchiel? is that a boy's name
Dunno, it is French I think
French, right so we are looking for a possibly French possibly male or possibly female person?
Sums it up
Boned
Yep
Tell me again what were Francis's exact words?
Find me Marchiel, find me the black rose
Nothing else?
He was yelling, you know how he gets
Yeah, shit look do you think we oughta just blow. Because it aint looking like we are gonna be making Francis too happy anytime soon.
Let's ask some questions first
I suppose
Boned?
Yep
I never realized just how high the flats in this area stood. Concrete giants standing over this urban world which I am unfortunate enough to call my home. Just last week a local boy was beaten up because of drugs, or money, or girls or whatever is the driving force behind the yobs that unfortunately for me call this area their home too.
Berkley Estate. Full of Highrises but empty of hopes, that about sums up this place.
As I continue my daily journey from work to home through the grey streets filled with grey people I am unfortunate enough...
The beach holds the sand of the future, that he had always been told. Now he rode beside it along with his true love, she of the long brown hair, now setup on a bun to make rideing easier, and thoose fantastic green eyes that told of emerald skies.
They rode now, they should speed up. Soon they would be hunted. Her family would come after them soon. That he of the family on the north side of the island and that she, Johanna of the south side of the island had become lovers what not a good thing.
The...
Peasants. They wouldn't understand. Or perhaps couldn't. Yes. I like that. Their brains too small to grasp the magnitude of this installation.
My art has always... eluded those without intellect.
For example, to the untrained eye and mind, my first installation looked like a series of bricks, forming a wall. If you didn't notice the mortar, it looked just like that. A wall. "Oh, hey, is this the wall guy?" That's how the peons remembered me. The wall guy.
My next installation wasn't much better. Televisions playing to televisions, broadcasting video of televisions. This was before Facebook, even. Don't tell...
She was twelve years old and had blood red lipstick. Her face was flushed and her hair tangled. She knelt at the bottom of the door frame, holding her red gown to her shoulders so that it wouldn't slip off.
Her father would pick her up soon. Relish over the money he made today. Not ask her how her day was. Ignore her fidgeting and discomfort. As long as she kept her customers satisfied, her dad was satisfied. Or rather, his drinking addiction was satisfied.
She wrapped her arms tighter around her legs. Someday she would get out. Someday she...
The cord wrapped around the foundation of the building and led into the hedges separating the two parcels of land. Thick as a forearm and coal-black, it seemed oddly out of place way out here in the Yukon. He follows it through the hedging, sacrificing the soft underskin of his forearm to the barbs and branches which leave a series of shallow scratches, which soon seep small droplets of bright-red oxygenated blood.
It is overgrown past the shrubbery, with wild grasses and weed growing archlike over the alien wiring. He concludes it must have been here for some time, though...