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.
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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.