Printable View
Jim checked the clock. "It's late. I need to sleep."
"I know," Martha pulled the sheets close to her face. "But we have to decide."
Jim sat up, naked, and walked to the bathroom. The hotel room smelled of sex and sweat. "Cremation," he said, and closed the door.
She padded across the floor to her window and looked out into the darkness. Raindrops slithered across the glass like crystal snakes. She sighed and scrubbed her sleepy face with her hands. Inside her soul it always felt like 3AM; and her heart wept rain.
Two donkeys: Jane, skinny-bummed and rough coated, defends her bucket of grain with precisely positioned hind-hooves; the other, Honeysuckle, soft as silk, and curvy in all the right spots, dumb as a box of rocks, even smells like clover, now who do you think gets the leftover carrots?
Once upon a time, she was all he needed, all he wanted, all he had. To him, the sun rose with her smile. Times changed, as good things come to ends, but she remembered when she was all he needed, all he wanted, all he had… once upon a time. (50)
Blah... that was hard :D I think it turned out rather cliche... hehe... oh well :p
The icy water ran down her back like a million small daggers striking her skin. She instinctively gasped. A moment later a shriek was heard.
"I told you not to flush!" (31)
I picked up where I left off; the same, strange chords playing through my head, fingers passing them on to my strings as the rhythm drew me in. The blind, child dancers began whirling again, their eyes pale, empty holes in their jerking heads. In no time, it was morning.
He was mowing the lawn, diligently preoccupied not with the machine of the mower but with an internal combustion of ideas. The world went black around him and he was left in a state where only the reinforced static of the mower broke the timeless reflection of events presently becoming past.
Shy and unimaginably beautiful, she was finally his wife. Even the sweep of her lashes made him fight for breath like the undertows he'd swum in off of the Mendocino Coast. "Wait love, I'm uncomfortable," she breathed, and drew off a sandal, revealing frayed yellow toes and large bleeding ulcers.
There is something on the wall; big hand on 1, little hand on 12. One o’clock. Whatever one o’clock is? The men in white are saying things. I know the words but they won’t slot together into meanings for me. Now both hands are on 1. How did that happen?
Noise,fake light.Breathe in,heart pounding- breathe out slowly,now thuding painfully.Hand the teller the money, looking down,never eye contact.
Open the door of my house. Home-safe, home-my friend. I drop the groceries and lay on the sofa, eyes closed, forehead cooling.Peace.
There was a reason I loved her, needed her with all my hearts desire.
What a splendid bliss would come over me when her dulcet eyes darted my way, and a smile would curve on that timeless face of hers.
Ahh, those tender moments when love grew between us.
"Life is a stage, you have your stars, your leads, your secondaries, and a hell load of extras." - Nonsensical Annotation - #1
Shizz.
“In my country, I want men not even look at me.
Here is, America. I want : Michael, make rub, like this. Yes?”
“Back rub.”
“Back rub, yes. Here is, I want : for smile me, Michael. Yes?”
“That’s doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Here, my country, there’s difference. Strange is.”
Loved him from afar. Dreamed and wished he'd love too. One night did not awake. Dreaming for ever, with him at last.
You have to understand that that was the Past. You should have planted Your Whisper in me before I began life. Life? Huh, you should have known that this was going to happen. (Now I have to be judged on someone else's pretensions.)
Clouds far and near, the pink purple haze of the horizon. A castle in the sky, with gold and silver, where we live forever, you and I.
k so my 'stories' r more poem-ish oh well nice stories btw people! 50 words allows for a lot of mystery