in the airdock a man asked me: "have you the time?" thank god i learned english when i was fifty.
"half past the second moon dark," i replied "and have you seen any of the crew from Lunarcha?
why did he rush off? and which galaxy am i in anyway?
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in the airdock a man asked me: "have you the time?" thank god i learned english when i was fifty.
"half past the second moon dark," i replied "and have you seen any of the crew from Lunarcha?
why did he rush off? and which galaxy am i in anyway?
She lived alone in the house of her childhood, memories her companions. She read the paper at the table she had spilled milk on when she was three and allowed the dogs to sleep on the couch where she had lost her virginity at seventeen. The circle was nearly complete.
Holding the trophy aloft, he screamed to the crowd in a confident and victorious tone, “I am your champion”. The crowd roared with enthusiasm, then promptly stoned him to death.
The old woman fell asleep. The aged, creased, yellowed piece of paper slipped from her fingers to the floor where her cat batted it lazily in the late afternoon sun. The only words still legible: "I wish......."
The old woman died smiling.
The woman never cleaned her house. She lived in the dirt. Her cat's droppings all over the floor. Pretty soon she couldn't smell it anymore. She didn't care. Then a couple appeared at her door. They cleaned her house. The cat is happy, the woman hates the fresh smell.
it stares
at me for many
weeks now.
eyepiercing
accusing
conveniently forgotten
making
me squirm
in disgust.
and with
excruciating guilt
I try to
ignore
what with
apathetical
impossible
indifferent
impassibility
as one
hugely neglected
towering clump
slumps over
the rim of this
inncocent receptacle.
Laundry
waiting
to be ironed.
The plastic bag had been there since I started. It took me six months to wonder what was in it, during which time Jane assiduously rejected me. I had just decided to look when she came in and suggested a drink. When the affair ended, the bag was gone.
Years ago, I had an intimate friend. Days passed and came between us. Once I saw her walking with a new friend hand in hand, she was happy and ignored my presence completely. Standing there, my eyes full of tears, I've learned how to forget those who don't deserve my love.
I am afraid of old books. They stare at me with their eyeless eyes, silently sussurating with their centurified pages as if they wanted to enhance me to some endless sleep. A silent and subtle death awaits them who fall a victim to them.
The question is: "Am i suicidal?"
Fifty words.
Nice game.
It was a Saturday, sunny, perfect shopping weather. Suddenly there was a scream. Crowds rushed to help. They found a body that had been battered beyond recognition with a charity collection box. A woman covered in blood stood calmly by the body all she would say is;
“Never make excuses”.
:smash: :D
50
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.