The thing about gold is: it lies inert. I mean, it shines, but...
Dubloons, you've heard the pirates speak of them. 490 years lie, ocean floor notwithstanding, and not a bit of tarnish, no rust.
Just try that with your silver, your iron, brass, your copper plate!
Gold. It runs, blurs, but -cool- it does not interact.
For this reason we think of it as pure, as spiritual:
Gold knows only its own soul.
Like a frigid bride it bides its time, growing not older, but alone

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My sister was called Heather. She only lived three years. I've never been told what really happened to her, only that she was taken away from us too early. I used to lie awake all night, terrified of someone coming in through the window, dragging me out of bed, over their shoulder, down a ladder, running across the back lawn, through a gap in the fence and into a van. Driven away forever.

It wasn't until I was about eight years old and settling into a new house (we'd moved four times already) that I came across a scrapbook of...

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When he'd signed up to visit strange new worlds, he'd never envisioned this. He turned slowly in the glass globe, devoid of even snow or glitter, and bemoaned his fate.

He should have known better than to answer an ad for interstellar traveller posted in the local classifieds.

Crap.

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After the murder I found it hard to recall what happened in my personal life but only remembered other things.

The autumn leaves were not covering the muddy lane as usual this time of year. I was grateful to Mother Nature to avoid the hard toil of removing the crisp orange leaves, too sticky and gooey with liquid earth deal with a power tool.

The deer from the woods below ignored my home made devices to deter their rampage over my immaculate lawn and ate the rose heads in the large bed in the middle.Bright pink, deep red, white, burgundy....

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They were right in front of him, huddled on the stage. Fred checked his cell phone and saw the show started in ten minutes. If he didn't have those marionettes in his possession before then, the world would end. Or at least this theater. But since his wife and daughter were in the audience, it might as well be the whole world.

"Nice try, Fred," a voice sounded behind him. Judy. She, the hater of all things puppets and puppet lovers, had planted the bomb in one of the heads. "But if you move, I'll put a bullet through your...

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Ox bow lake?
I said looking at Jerry. He sat there with that evil kniving look on his face. I knew i should have stayed back, but it was a nice day out. I might as well do something else other than my western art homework.

"okay, lets adventure!"

We were walking through this area of the town that I stayed away from..... mainly because we had passed not one but SIX NO TRESSPASSING PRIVATE PROPERTY signs.
you
"C'mon its up here" he ran ahead.

we kept walking as I heard rumbling behind us, I made the mistake of turning...

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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...

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It always did this. Time after time and time after time. Well, it was time. That was problem really. Dr Karz Flembold took his hand out of his pocket and poked it out of the temporal bubble; he saw a second immediately tick past on the clock face of his Casio.

He whipped his hand back in, feeling the sting of the present like a burn on the skin of his fingers. The watch immediately froze again. 15:04:21. It always was. But yet, he knew, time was still there. He had seen the world around him crumble and fall away,...

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Joshua parked in front of the iron gate, irritated at this sign, just one of many from his absentee father. He was never there when he needed him. Where was he when he was six and skinned his knee riding his first bike? When he brought home his report card? When he needed help getting into college?

His father wasn't there when his mother died. Where was the hand of the older man when he needed comfort, standing at the grave of his closest family on a deceptively bright and sunny day? Where was he when the accident took his...

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Light as a feather.
Light on the eyes.
Light flashing into tear streaming eyes.
Light in my arms,
My long-lost love.
Light as the clouds
soaring above.

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