I never did - and I never would have - but it had long been a thought. My stored up fantasy dried up in the far-off desert, and here I pursue my truer Romance in the city.
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I never did - and I never would have - but it had long been a thought. My stored up fantasy dried up in the far-off desert, and here I pursue my truer Romance in the city.
She vomited words that sickened everyone but her. Still, she wouldn't stop her quasipoetics. Their "Gawd!" became her "Cod...isn't that some sort of fish? Haha!"
A road sign finally stopped her: Alive Again Taxidermy. Fascination with resurrection delivered by taxi in both German and English left her speechless.
I picked up my first hitch-hiker on a Wednesday. I'm not sure why I remember the day of the week; I couldn't tell you the month and only hazard a 50/50 guess at the year. She was cute and grateful. I dropped her off just outside Grantham - nice town.
From late winter to summer of that year, they were in the meadows, looking for the remote. A late rainstorm washed the red spots off and when Bill came out in September he found them draped over each other, mossy, nude, drinking beer. ‘Say’, he said, 'what's the big idea?'
Today I went to court with a few friends. I watched five dudes get prosecuted for steeling beer. They were given small fines. One of my friends fell asleep.
Rivitted to repulsive eyes in the littleness of that curious yet frightful age, I sought the thing I already was mapping my escape from. With an unexpected shift to where I had never been, I entered, but was caught. Worry not, but wonder as to what was my rescue.
Watching an ant make his way onto a shard of glass gave me the peculiar sensation of watching some so called hunters shooting deer from a blind. So I picked him up and dumped him in the river, broken glass and all. The sun was about to fry him anyway.
Avoided I the gaze of all those others. I turned my back on them all, only to turn and see the one. I knew this one at once, and I saw my face reflected upon knowing pupils. As she watched through windows, a door opened for us to join up in one place.
A chance meeting, lunch the following week, drinks the next, your arm latches onto mine, a mutual understanding. A year later my smile broadens on waking, I sing to the showerhead, eternal sun even on cloudy days, sumptuous love. Each day, I feel more than the last. Love’s powerful intoxication.
All that was real she had to conceal. The burden reduced her, finally, to tears. Those dervish days intended to propel her into infinity had instead drained her, pained her into this.
It was a taste she didn't recognize - one she deserved - for her duplicity.
Time to go to work.
Mother always said never to trust a man with just a moustache; still, her heart paPOOMed when she saw him.
Tall, dark, and exquisitely ahhhhh, he raised his hand.
She held THE BOOK.
"Do you swear to tell the truth...?"
Their eyes met.
"I do."
Oh, dear! Mother?
A Tale of Two Twitties.
A story by Dr. Cenderlar Harmeshing Jones, PHD, Proffessor 'A P.T.E.S.G. Toole, and Dr. Bernado Elehandero Messersmicht.
A foreward by Dr. Jones (not including the story which is fifty words exactly).
When we first started the composition of this story a few months back, I can remember the almost daunting task that lay before us brilliant proffessional, in composing a singular work of art that would capture all the joy and wonderful expression of the human essence. After months of researching through books, papers, etc. We finally compiled enough information to make a story of this measure possible. Why we could have filled the lower part of Oxford alone with the books needed on researching this subject.
It has for the most part been exhausting, but overly rewarding, and it is our firm belief that this will join the ranks of some of the greatest human literature known to man. So without further adieu, please enjoy the fruits of our labour.
Dr. C.D. Jones
Jerod Forham puffed his pipe, sandwiching in the garden, while Abbigail, was watering roses.
"Do you think Westminster shall be over?"
"I dare say, he shan't, I've got an appointment at twelve."
Ever since that day Abbigail has been in St. Betricts mental asylum for dissolutionment. Jerod kept his doctors appointment.
I awoke on the floor of an empty room. It had two doors, with a sign in between.
The sign said, “Enter the left, and love will touch all mankind. Enter the right, and you will die in five minutes.”
I used four of them to write this.
A man took five steps back and scanned for hope. He wanted canonization, and self-actualization, and buried treasure, and forgiveness.
His head dimmed as it swiveled. Something felt sharply like a needle and resounded deep within him. It was all he remembered.
The man, sat in front of his computer monitor, the putrid stench of febreeze air freshner clung to the inside of his nostrils. "Hell yeah" he so eloquently soliloquized "I learned how to play the main guitar riff from Aqualung". Now as pleasantly satisfied as the man was, something was unacounted for, "Ahhh yes" thinking to himself once again, "my cigarette".
-Excerpt from My life approximately 15-25 mins ago.
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
The other day a fellow fell onto my lap. His face blushed a bright apple-yellow, and his knees shivered like the little moments before a pleasure was announced. I didn't know why. Today I fell onto a fellow's lap and the fellow acted the same way.
I made a deposit on my life. It seems so, that if one wanted to one can buy anything for the right price. I don't really pay attention to what the media says, or what anyone else says from this point on because I know I'm living on credit.
50 words...this is new for me, but fun :)
Decorations torn off the walls and clothes taken out of the drawers, she is reminded of what the room looked like before her inhabitance. She leans over, pulls the last of her bags out the door, and bids farewell to another semester of college. “Adult world, yeah right,” she smirks.
The time of twilight was approaching and the sun was going down after the big green mountains, as people always go to rest for an eternity. As the sun rises again changed, we also rise, but in another person...We all die for others to born... The time of twilight...
She watched as he lowered himself to the ground. He started to pick the daisies from the grass, and slowly made long daisy chains, then wound them into beautiful wreaths. She had showed him how to. How she wished she could sit with him again. How she wished she could wear the daisies in her hair again. He could not see her. He could sense her. He did love her still.
" What the heck" she muttered. "I know I put those scissors on the table." Ahhh, the table...Under the table was a chaos of dust bunnies and dog fur. Evil little pixies live under there, and they are responsible for the scissor theft. She will never know of their presence.
Cackling with glee, the evil wee folk laugh at the blunderings of "her", their ignorant nemesis. O wielder of brooms, hated and feared. "Now what?" one squeaks to the assembled. "Let's infest her computer, give it worms!" They roll around, kicking their tiny feet in abundant glee.
Last Wednesday all colour left the world. Everything was monochrome, like an old photograph: sky, trees, shops, people; all grey. And oddly, sounds and smells were richer, as if they had appropriated all the colours for themselves. Once I realised I had become a dog, it all made sense. Woof.
Short story 50 words and under: (50 ish, it hurts my eyes to count) :goof:
They sit in the car next to each other, mere inches away, but it feels like miles, an eternity. "I can't do this anymore" he says. She hates him for his bluntness. "I'll have the small onion rings" she says to the plastic clownface. " $1.95, Window two," it squawks.
49 words, actually--well done :thumbs_up.