If you really knew me, you'd find I hate cinnamon; the smell, the taste, everything about it. I've never tried a brussel sprout and I would say my favorite food are hot dogs, even though they aren't so good for you. If this were a book about my life, I could tell you I've lived in NY my whole life, and just recently I want to move; the winter used to be one of my favorite seasons, and now it's just too cold to bear. If we just met and you asked my favorite color, I would tell you pink...
The wind blew across the plains, picking up clods of dirt as it ran past, and I gripped my son's shoulder, as if by some instinct. Soon the dust would blow through the cracks in our log cabin, and the kitchen -- the tiny corner we called the kitchen -- would soon fill with what looked for all the world like soot. That we could take. The ground and the wind had been trying to kill us for years. We were used to it. But lately we'd had to contend with spiders. Tarantulas. Tough sons of bitches that put their...
i had a dream. It was so weird! I dreamt is was in a truck cruising down the highway. I looked up at the driver and said "Where am i?" He turned around, slow, very slow. I gasped. He was a cat! a gray tabby with neon eyes. "Why am i here?" i asked, thinking that, hey this was a dream. if this cat can drive, then maybe he can talk too. he opened his mouth. "Meow?" was all that came out. So much for the "if he can drive, he can talk" theory. I sat up. We were driving...
I had a dream the other night. Meazles, my cat from when I was a crabby twelve year old, was driving a city bus and trying to run me down. It was terrifying. I don't even know why I would have a dream like that. I mean, I loved that cat. He was my constant companion until I left for college. I always felt guilty that I couldn't take him with me. Even after I got my own apartment, they didn't allow pets, so I only saw Meazles once in awhile when I would visit my parents. I wonder if...
When the truck pulled up into the yard, I looked up from breakfast. It was a large truck, sort of a cross between a utility van and an ice-cream dispensary, and its tires bobbed over the curb, causing it to lurch from side to side. It drove right over our sapling, sideswiped the large maple, crunched into the center of our magnolia bush, and finally stopped over top of the fire hydrant, knocking it out into the intersection. I could see the driving compartment fill up with water, and pretty soon thereafter the windshield split off from its frame and...
Portraits of this generation stand on the top of the grand piano, making it impossible to open the thing and get a good quality of sound out of it, not that anyone dare play in the sanctuary. Portraits of the previous generation hang on the wall in the family room. Portraits of the generation before that hang in the dining room, while portraits, just four of them, all that they had, hung in the living room, huge ovals of ancestry cluttering up what might have been a nice space. The house would have to be remodeled before another generation came,...
Portraits. Hanging in the gallery; all her own work. Self-portraits, and ones of famous people, she had finally found her passion.
Buyers, on-lookers, and art collectors alike all came to marvel at the paintings. The gallery was on Main Street in the City. Nashville had always been her home, and her dream to have her portraits on display for the Country Music Capital dwellers.
Her favorite portrait was one she had painted of her and her brother Damien. This one in particular, Leila was sitting on Damien's lap, looking up at him while their cat, Josephine was sitting at her...
Portraits lined the hallway. No matter where you stood, it seemed like the eyes were following you, staring at you in disdain. Freddy didn't care for the effect, so he hurried his way through the hall to the sitting room.
A large statue stood in the center of the room. The white marble figure resembled a famous historical figure, but Freddy couldn't quite place just which one--perhaps Ben Franklin. Ben Franklin 1.0, to be exact. Ben Franklin 1.2 was currently going through some new, more rigorous testing because Baron Von Bonn's steambot army made short work of the original. Luckily,...
Dancing on the beach in bare feet. What a careless thing to do. You could get glass in your feet, or step on a sharp rock. And what on earth are you wearing? It's too cold out; you'll get sick. Get back in the house this minute, girls. It'll be dark, soon, anyway, and you shouldn't be out after dark. That's when the bad men come out.
Sometimes, I wish I could be like you. Innocent, with the world ahead of me. Able to do silly things like dance on the beach at sunset without worrying about the consequences. But...
The girls rejoiced. It took them an hour, but they finally found the Moleskine notebook that Julia had so carelessly misplaced. Anna and Rachel spotted it beneath a rock that Julia used to keep the pages opened flat.
Now that the hunt was over, the three girls placed the notebook on the ground and stood around it. They took hold of each other, and began the chant. As they chanted, they began dancing around the notebook, faster and faster, chanting more and more loudly.
A beam of pure white light shot straight into the air and appeared to pierce the...