The writers club - writer's club? writers' club? - started amicably enough. Geoff (Murder Mysteries and Historical romps) had searched his family tree back to the 1500s. Seranne (interesting name. A story there...) was nervious that we'd fit round the long raised table, with laptops and notepads, etc, and threw the odd curt look at the young couple inhabiting the corner, uninvited, and unaware. Jen set to work, with numerous hand written notes, while Rachel tapped discreetly away on her duck egg blue Huddl; only the second I'd ever seen not forlornly sat on a Tesco back shelf. Non-fiction and...
His sister was meddling. Always meddling, it never stopped. Turning the milk sideways in the fridge and dumping out the day-old onions. Those were for tomorrow's hot dog.
She caught him. Caught him with his pants down. His figurative pants. It was his hands that were dirty, elbow deep in a sewer - a sick, all too real version of Dirty Jobs. A bad boyfriend, he had three jobs, two girlfriends, and only one sandwich - it was the sandwich that pushed him over the edge. Salami, no cheese - where was that plunger. She knew he had to have...
I think that I shall never see
A sight so fine as irony
For all my life I lay in wait
To see a sight profound and great
This rosy glow that lights the sky
Answers every truth and lie
Every hope and all despair
Is wiped from mind and earth and air
Would that the sun had caused this glow
Sinking down in sunset low
Would that tomorrow it would rise
In sunrise warm and soft and wise
No shockwave yet, though it will come
The world will end and all fall dumb
Yon mass of rock that hurtles...
Midnight on the Roof. That's where he'll be. I know Santa Claus is real. I know that because he's my Dad.
It was small things at first. I made a list:
1) A wistful smile on Mum's lips each Christmas Eve.
2) The way she hummed "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus" without noticing.
3) The fact we ALWAYS put out cookies and beer for him before Christmas Day. And a carrot for Rudolf.
4) My last real memory of him dressed in his large red gown and hat with white fur trim telling Mum he had to go. His...
I stand on the fine sand, gazing out to sea. We stood here before, didn't we? You and I. Younger, then. Innocent perhaps. Lovers learning about each other in those early days.
The time we spent on this beach was perfect. Like an advert on TV for far flung luxurious holidays. Our own private paradise. We didn't want it to end, did we?
A man walks past. Dressed in green trunks, he glances at me. I signal to him and buy. He's feeling lucky now. Selling watermelon and coconut is not easy at this time of year. I feast on...
"Now, tell me again," said the attractive blond in the black-rimmed glasses, "why do you think you're a super villain?"
Her patient sighed. He was draped across her leather couch, one hand hanging limp over its side, grazing the lush carpet as though it was soft grass.
The therapist chewed on her pencil and waited.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" he said. "I'm a scientist. I come from a long line of super villainy, and it's up to me to keep up the family reputation." He turned on his side to gaze at her. "Have I...
I don't like the truth. It gets messy, tangles in with lies and becomes one big pile of words that could mean life or death or nothing at all. I don't like lies either, to decieving. I don't like words in general, to much noise, I prefer silence. In silence no one can deceive or trick you. No one can force you to listen to anything unwanted, but most of all they can't remind me. They can't remind me of my weakness. Not that it's my only weakness, but it is a big weakness, it is the king and all...
This is a confession that I wrote for you. Only you. And I know you won't understand this because your heart doesn't race at the sound of my name or voice. But I wrote this because I hope you do understand this. That you do feel something when you hear my name or voice.
I always seem to be behind you. It's not even one step that's separating us. It's a million steps that I'll never be able to close up because your expectations are slowly eating me up. Everyone seems to love you and I'm afraid that I do...
Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. The words echoed back and forth through my head. The ice went out in all directions, as far as could be seen. It only took three days without water for a man to die from dehydration. You could go a month without food before dying and several years without some minerals or vitamins. But water, water was something the human body always needed.
The ice seemed harder then steel and I didn't have any tools to chip away at it. So I kept walking and looking at the ice. I looked...
She stood there. The first thing he noticed was the red of her heeled shoes. He always liked the color red but in that moment it repulsed him. She drifted closer to him as he peered at her through his dark rimmed frames.
“I miss you” she said through whiskey laced breath.
He stood there for a moment and let the words splash onto his face. He quickly wiped his brow removing his glasses in order to also wipe them clean. He looked at her once again and felt the urgency to grab her, to kiss her, to love her....