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She was reading Kenneth Tynan’s Diaries. “Could you show me the way to Grantchester?” I asked. Smiling she said “3 rows down, top shelf”. Later, in her flat, during our fusion, her grand finale coincided with my flourish. “Oh God” I cried. “Is there honey still for tea?” she whispered.
He sat helplessly watching the monitor. Her heartbeat seemed to form a word: LIPS. He instinctively kissed her. Would she now awake from her coma? No change. He watched again. HEART it said. He kissed her soft breast. No change. Just before she flatlined, the monitor read I LOVE YOU.
AP, that's so nice... and sad... and nice... awww, poor them :(... sequel? hapilly ever after? Fairy tale ending? I know, I'm silly, sue me, can't help it :blush:
It hurts so bad sometimes; it hurts so terribly, wretchedly bad that sometimes, she thinks she'd rather not have a heart at all.
And so, she sits, watching as the world passes by, and inside, her heart is breaking into a million pieces.
But you'd never know.
I still have my old doll. I don't know why. I hug it, it comforts me. One eye is fallen out,and my dog bit of two fingers. It watches me. I read, it watches me. I undress, it watches me. I wonder what it's thinking?!
Someone gave a homeless man a dollar bill; he spent the dollar on cigarettes; someone robbed the convenience store of the dollar bill; in his escape, the robber lost the dollar bill; it floated in the wind to a woman who gave it to her child; the child tore it in half.
I saw him today. As sweet as ever, he smiled at me.I blushed. I always do. I fell in love with him when I saw his eye's last week. Brown. Love at first sight. We had coffee, in a separet corner. We don't speak the same language.
The edges of the black notebook are frayed and slightly torn, stained by the mundane occurrences of life. But it’s pretty. I kept it by my side religiously for a whole school year. 7th to 8th. I scribbled frenetic thoughts. I dabbled in poetry. I nibbled on elegance. Oh notebook.
Exactly 50 words. B)
I read the news today, about a lucky man who made the grade. And though the news was rather sad. Well I just had to laugh I saw the photograph. He blew his mind out in a car. Hadn't noticed that the lights had changed.
(I kinda stole it, I had nothing)
'This is a story with a trick beginning.'
Your man put down his pen and considered the possibility that if he left this as the only sentence then his story would also have a trick ending.
"On the Art of the Short Story," Bernard MacLaverty
...she was in for a crime she hadn't committed. afraid she would go insane if she stayed, she befriended a rat. for her love, it chewed threw cement walls, enabling her to make her escape. the warden had the prison walls restructured with inner panes of glass.
her friend died.
Rounding the corner, he observed a classy blue convertible parked in front of his house. A round woman sat at the wheel. "You been around long?" he asked. Her lip curled, Billy Idol-like. "Only since I had my baby, you Irish jerk," was her round rejoinder.
I guess you could say his hour had come round at last, eh? :p
Suddenly Death leapt off the page, its letters inflating, rotating. You sat in amazement as the word, forming a bodyshape, awkwardly ambled across to the dimmer switch, the stumps of H slowly turning down the light. The room darkened. It grew cold. You noticed the clock had stopped. Motionless silence.
her nephew hadn't appeared - strange: everyone else had before their birth. yet he was due any minute. her skin tingled; she whispered a prayer, never saw the truck run the red light...the next thing marsha knew, she was blind, slippery, and her sister was saying "my precious, precious son."