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One day the rippling waves of sea will smile upon the mackerel sky. The golden fields of corn will dance with the windswept trees in a summer waltz. A tune will echo through the air, and soprano voices will go arm in arm with baritone. Love will unite us all.
Quote:
Originally Posted by atiguhya padma
I like this one very much :nod: The shortest comment would be :banana:
You could have set your watch by her. Every day at 3.03 the little girl with chestnut pigtails would ride around the court in cockamamie circles until uncouth barks lured her back inside. Once, she didn’t show up to ride around the pavement. Three years later, I still wait for her picture on the milk carton.
Too embarrassed to buy one herself, I ordered it by post. She had a fit, signing for it. Never be able to speak to the postman again. What if it had gone to a neighbour!?! Hours ago she locked herself in the bedroom with it. Still moaning.
A big mistake.
Somehow I do not think that this short story is about books . Still giggling.
Thanks, Isagel. Glad it made you laugh:)
Maria could hear the footsteps behind her as she walked home in the dark street. Her heart was racing and she started to panic . As she increased her walking pace, she could hear the footsteps coming closer. She tried to run when a familiar voice cried out "Bellisimo Maria" She recognised the voice. It was her brother Felipe. :wave:
Raul agonized over his problem. Was it a problem? He thought to himself. Yes of course it is, don't be an idiot. He paced around the apartment, he began to get sick to sick to his stomach. She is an angel. "Only fools rush in."
I looked down at my new shoes, shined for the first day of my new career. My father's words of hard work rung true. I was to be all that I could be as a proffesional. I looked through the window and said, "Would you like fries with that?"
He didn't come. I was waiting all day, well until I went to work. he told me that he would be there. When he's working, he dosen't know that I'm watching him. so beautiful and strong. But today, he never showed up. I wonder if I'll ever see him again.
A man took to the appeals of archery and soon decided to become an archer.
His first words as an archer were "Oh dear"
Why did he say this?
He had missed the target and shot his foot instead.
Completely on impulse. Please, tear it apart.
Bill sat up, exhaaaaaausted. He could hardly breathe he was so tired. His vision was blurry. He thought about the way he had looked at her, and how he had said all the wrong things. Then he started to become depressed about it, and went back to bed. It was still night.
As the flaxen swan tore the princess from the grasp of the handsome prince, a gasp escaped his mouth.
"No!" he yelled, and leaped after her, only to fall into the fiery crater of the volcano...
Yet the swan kept flying, carrying the sobbing princess to who-knows-where...
That little patch of ground in front of the trailer was for her flowers, godd**m it! And for those herbs people used to make teas. Still, he parked that truck there and threw up the hood like it was a flag, surrendering them to squalor. She had it towed away.
Later he turned up in Arles, making a blurry, colour saturated film. He had a tastefully bruised look, as if he'd caught flack from a fistfight between Van Gogh and Gaugin. Perhaps he had. In the evenings, drunk, he seemed to go somewhere vaguer, more blotchy, a little nuts.
she could not get enough: she moved to france to glory in the freshest wheels she could find. she bathed in cheese, talked in cheese, slept in cheese, made love in cheese. years later, her world-class offspring were sold at black-market prices during holidays.
I do not regret anything of what I have done in my entire life. Only you my little child, have the power to choose the way in which you want to live your life. You must to be sure of that is the right choice, because once that you have done it nobody is going to live it for you. These were his last words before dying.
It was odd to see him in real reality, not just reality TV. When I came back from getting lunch he was there again and I decided to speak to him. I'm sorry you were evicted, I said, I loved your remarks on philosophy.
I knew I should have gone. I found out later that if I had have met him, I would most probably be dead. I knew there was going to be some benefit of meeting this man in which I had recieved his number from a phonebox. I should have gone.
Two steps ramained but he could not walk. He'd been shot and walked a long distance just to inform her of the danger. No more, he knew it was the end. His hand on his stomach and his eyes looking at the sky, he stayed there. Then evrything faded.
I lived at the amusement park then. The price of admission was to take a close look at yourself in a dusty mirror. The hearse ride was always popular. People got on it as if they couldn't help themselves.
I really love your short stories , blp. They remind me of some of Bradburys good stories. They have the same feeling , like something living just at the borderline of myths and fairytales.
Now I have to take a look at your other posts. Perhaps you have written poetry as well. To qoute the great one. " This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship"
I remember Bruges in an odoriferous way: the ponies carrying passengers across the city; the waffle houses; the canals lit up at night; the chocolate displayed in open windows. As for taste, all I remember, is your kiss, and the faintest flavour of the finest wine.
Thanks! There's a long poem by me on the second page of personal poetry and it's had no comments, so feedback would be much appreciated.Quote:
Originally Posted by Isagel
P.S. I guess you mean Ray Bradbury, not Malcolm. Might go have a look. Haven't read anything by him since Dandelion Wine when I was 12 (a long time ago)
Yes, I meant Ray Bradbury. Haven´t read anything by Malcolm Bradbury.
Taking a sip from my bottle of water, I gazed at the screen. Her eyes are shining and are deep blue. No I heve to forget her, to take her out of my mind. Oh! How can any one forget his mother although she is dead now.
Jane tapped her pencil against her lips, she had been sitting over her paper for hours now and still nothing had come out, she was almost in tears with frustration when she looked up at the man standing above her.
Holly looked at Jonny, she had no idea that this was going to be the last time she would ever see him, she smiled as he opened his lips to speak, "I have something to tell you!"
It has a terrible affect on one's morrale, being dead. It's just no fun. Espescially if one died in the same manner as me. I mean, when you think about it seriously it was a horrible way to die - but on face value, well.... being squashed by a hormonal cow just isn't a cool is it.
(just over 50)
**I actually knew a woman who died this way!**
Squashed by a hormonal cow? that really happened? I guess it did. My mini-story did, too:Quote:
Originally Posted by Johnny Odd
Richard’s back in town. He’s been in the desert for five years looking for the “Lost Dutchman” mine. Apparently he didn’t find it. I asked how he survived in the desert. He said he survived off the land and ate coyotes. I asked if coyote tasted like chicken. He said it tasted just like dog.
:eek:
She was coming over the hill with a dog on a leash. I noticed with interest that the dog was a plastic one with wheels. In a few months everyone had them. There were plastic dogs on the covers of all the magazines.
Holding my still warm croissant I smile as I sit down on the bench to wait for the bus.
I imagine how the first bite will taste and as I open my carefully lipsticked mouth the bus comes and I cough and drop the croissant.The day seems dull.
"The comedy of man survives the tragedy of man" G.K.Chesterton
Taps her fingers across the poignant café table. Raised her eyes to the poster advertising "Dent's - a real good toothpaste" she spots the reflection, get's up and runs. She spilled the glass.
I took the small objects in my hand and smiled. I had been trying to get these for so long and now I finally had them. I couldn't have been any happier as I grabbed a glass of water, popped the objects into my mouth and swallowed them down. I was dead before my head even touched the floor.
Sorry just a bit over 50 there! Woops.
I bet you could get it down to fifty with some cutting.
Elizabeth stared at Jimmy as if she could not see him, and walked away.
Jimmy wished he could be a fly on the wall of her brain; witness her thoughts, her motivations, see through her eyes.
Jimmy did not want to control her, but observe her from the inside out.
(Aha! Fifty words exactly. This is fun!)
The miracle drifted gently downwards, beautifully shaped. A little boy in red wellingtons and a yellow mac tried to catch it- it escaped. Eventually it landed on the sidewalk to disapeare for ever under a trampling of busy feet. Nobody but the little ever noticed it.
we can expand our imagination through this sentence，
just add my own dreams to the sentence and make a story my own!
;)
Quote:
Originally Posted by mono
I went to see a man today; they said he is wise.
He told me of all things, and we discoursed until dawn.
It came time to retire, and I said come with me, lead others to truth.
He said no I cannot.
Without courage wisdom bears no fruit.
He wasn't so wise.
hm just over.