PrecipitationPrecipitation12 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The man on the news said it was going to rain today. Whenever they say that I always think of how they know it's going to rain that day. I think sometimes they guess because sometimes it doesn't rain when they say it will. My grandpa used to say his trick knee hurt when it was about to rain. Maybe the man on the TV has a knee that does tricks too.
Some of the other kids who live where I live hate it when it rains. But I love it. I think its because their rules might be different from my rules. I'm not allowed to go out when it's nice outside, Because everybody is out there, and momma doesn't want the whole neighborhood knowing our business. I can only go play in the rain. And sometimes right after it rains. Those are my rules. When I used to go out with the other kids their mommas used to come out with them to play. And they asked me all kindsa questions about what had happened to my face, or my arms, or why I was such a scrawny little thing. The people from school too. Ms. Hannigan us
The Longest ShowerThe Longest Shower12 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The water was hot.
God, it was hot. Probably the hottest water I'd ever felt. I wasn't gonna say jack shit about it though. I wasn't gonna move out of it neither. As far as showers go this was my first real one in two weeks that felt more like 2 eons.
One boy. One bar of soap. Hot water.
No guards. No fights. I was happy that the only blood running down the drain was old. From ancient souvenirs of the 39 days prior. 1 day passed out in an empty lot at the intersection Broome and Hester with a 6-inch knife through my thigh. 1 day in the hospital, and 37 days in the hands of people deemed caretakers. Minus the care, earned me 4 minor stab wounds, a broken clavicle, and a face that looked like frozen hammered shit.
I needed things to be different.
God the water was hot. But I wasn't gonna say shit. I wasn't gonna move and I wasn't gonna touch the little delicate knob with the small cursive C in cerulean blue. I washed away blood, scabs and the faint smell of stale despair. I got out, and
The RoomThe room was small, built in the shape of a sphere. The walls, floor and ceiling were all painted a bright, blinding white, creating a cold and unfeeling setting. There was no visible discrepancy to the sphere's shape. There was nothing else in the room, and it was kept lit by an unidentifiable source of light. There were no windows, and the only door that led outside blended in seamlessly with the walls. There was no way to tell left from right, front from back. And in the middle of the sphere sat a man.The Room11 years ago in Horror More Like This
His raven black hair was long, dirty and fell to his shoulders in matted locks. He wore a plain white shirt, or at least a shirt that had once been white. Now it had been stained a dull brown-red by blood. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, torn and ripped almost to shreds, and his feet were bare. His nails were long, untrimmed and sharp. His arms were cuffed firmly behind his back, and no matter what he tried they would not come free. His eyes fixed themselves on the section of the sp
Talmor's StoryTalmor's Story11 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
"The scene is: you're hanging out at the arcade, when all of a sudden, a human walks in. Gallant and Tal, go!"
Delamar Gallant, tall, dark, brooding, and liable to kill anyone who used his first name, leaned against the brick wall with his arms folded high on his chest, attempting to affect a 'casual tough-guy' pose, and doing fairly well at it thanks to massive size. Talmor Dearth sauntered casually across the street a few paces away, acting the part of the cocky mortal, and failing miserably, having yet again forgotten to put his sketchbook down before entering a scene. Gallant strode boldly over to Tal, giving him the once-over.
"A human, here at the arcade, eh? You're asking to be meat."
"Oh?" replied Tal jauntily, "We'll see about that."
"Ding!" Arconin Wry called out gleefully, to be answered by a scowling Tal.
"Oh?" Tal repeated, "I just come for the entertainment." He tossed a glare at Arconin, as if askin
Fever at KingsdayLoyal hadn't noticed it earlier, but Tom Fox was paler than usual, and a spot of color had risen high on each cheek, an effect that made his face look even more like a mask than ever. It seemed pointless to worry over the health and well-being of Tom Fox, but by late evening his eyes were bright and the signs were unmistakable—he had a fever. It was almost ridiculous, Loyal thought as he kicked off his boots; the boy had always given the appearance of being inhuman and therefore invulnerable, but that, of course, was a foolish mistake. What else was he, if not a human being—even if he didn't know entirely how to act like one.Fever at Kingsday9 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
"You look sick," Loyal told him frankly, once he saw Tom Fox still intended to change for that evening's festivities. "I know you won't listen to me, but I don't think you should go tonight."
Rather than turn an impeccable cold shoulder, as Loyal had expected, Tom Fox paused in the task of buttoning up his collar and sat down on the edge of his bed. "I am aware of
Time Will Heal The ScarsTime Will Heal The Scars13 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Time Will Heal The Scars
The wind blew through his curly black hair as he blew into his saxophone, standing on the boardwalk listening to the sounds of the beach. He had been playing in this spot for years, and the sound to him was like an old shoe. The kind of memory that he could not throw away despite how useless it was. His saxophone case was nearly empty of the coins and bills that it usually contained. Tourist season had ended, and like the birds, everyone had migrated elsewhere for the winter months.
There was a chill on the air coming off the ocean. The man put down his saxophone to rest, leaning his thin back up against the railing of the boardwalk. At 45, he had been gifted with a young face, but the years of playing outside just for money had taken their toll on his hands, and they bore the marks of someone twice his age. He sat with his fingers clasped over his knees and stared out at the ocean, its green-blue waves throwing themselves on the sand with a fury that co
A Day Less OrdinaryA Day Less Ordinary12 years ago in Humor More Like This
It was a day just like any other day, insofar as it was not actually any other day than that one, but was probably closely related to most of the others. On this day quite like many other days but not actually another day, James Francis walked down the street with his friend Sally.
The day to him seemed to be like most others. The sky was blue, as it usually was, the grass as always looked green and he found that he could breathe the air and live. As he walked he was going to remark to Sally how nice this day quite like any other day actually was when, to the ordinary day's surprise, something changed.
James fell unconscious to the floor. This could have been an ordinary happening, if not a regular one. However, the circumstances of it were not ordinary. A bowl of petunias had miraculously popped into existence some 40 feet above where they landed on James's head. No one but the Petunias noticed the sudden appearance until five seconds later as they crashed into James's head, with what
Nothing v1.5NothingNothing v1.58 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A short play by David Couture
A bare stage. GUY 1 is standing CENTRE stage.
GUY 2 [entering]. Hey.
GUY 1. Hello.
GUY 2. What are you doing?
GUY 1. I'm watching the burning house.
GUY 2. What burning house?
GUY 1. The one that's offstage.
GUY 2. It's offstage?
GUY 1. What do you see onstage?
GUY 2. Nothing.
GUY 1. That's because it's offstage.
GUY 2. Then what's the point?
GUY 1. It's a plot device.
GUY 2. A what?
GUY 1. A plot device. Something introduced to the narrative in order to advance it. In this case, a burning house.
GUY 2. Is it working?
GUY 1. You're here now.
GUY 2. Is it a symbol?
GUY 1. Everything is a symbol.
GUY 2. I don't get it.
I don't think I like this plot device.
GUY 1. Give it time. Have
Sgt. DivineSgt. Divine11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
A few of the men say this used to be a church, but it's hard to tell anything in this storm. We are pinned under a black and violent sky that has held us inside this crumbling room since we arrived yesterday morning. The water slides along the cracked ceiling and bombards us from different spots.
Captain tells us to keep our weapons dry, but he knows it's impossible. The floor clutches our boots with three inches of sucking wet mud. If the wind ever dies down we'll have a better look around this old place, but for now we just listen as it batters the trees into the stone.
None of us know how long we have to wait here. Captain says we are to protect this structure so our side can launch rockets from it if the war ever begins. Barnes says there isn't going to be a war. He says neither side is willing to start it; but here we are, drenched and freezing, just in case.
In the brief moments when the wind and rain pause we can hear the water trickling down through
splitting micasplitting mica10 years ago in Typographical More Like This
Uncloud the borealis of your eye, show your iceberg secrets
on an axis that intersects the surface
an axis that Greek geographers established as a reference line
from pole to pole. While Greece preserves the memory of itself in Rome,
its philosophers deduce morals from the nature of man
rather than from God
and baize of whitened-green mouldering
from the pews-sides
leaving naked wood
to the disturbance caused by a water droplet,
that will be smoothed out by gravity.
This complex folding over cannot be drawn, though its properties
can be specified in full mathematical detail.
∑ 2398 a & b (put > zero as quantum) α 161
FateFate11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God. Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No. But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
AfterlifeAfterlife10 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A desert road.
A body lies on the road. SAM is sitting on it. It is his corpse. He gets up. Looks at the body, and looks at himself. He feels himself for fat. He goes stage LEFT. As he reaches the end, he stops. He then goes stage RIGHT. He stops. He looks out toward the audience. He goes upstage. He goes downstage. Finally, he glumly takes a seat on his body again and sighs heavily with his chin in both hands, elbows on his knees. He stares at the ground and takes no notice of his surroundings.
Enter CHARON, stage RIGHT. He is wearing simple brown robes and a walking staff. Middle-aged and balding. He drags his feet, hunched over and head down, like someone who has been on his feet for a long time. Noticing SAM, he straightens himself. He takes a scrol
Lost Without You ...NotVerse 1Lost Without You ...Not4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Show I care, Tell you I'm there.
Want you Near my dear,
Come here, come here,
'Cause I've been
For so long and I,
Wait here any longer,
pretend I'm any stronger,
these nights they feel so lonely,
without you here right next to me,
So Please, Please, PLEASE
Stay by my side,
and dry all these tears,
the ones that I cried,
for you, my dear.
I've lost all my pride,
You have no idea,
how long that I've tried,
to survive all these years.
I'm begging you,
to show me the way,
I'm Lost Without You
I have Recently,
been Doing Well,
Just thought I'd tell.
I think I've Finally,
broken free, of your Spell.
So I will
no longer say
that I can't find my way,
Made myself much Stronger,
This world is mine to Conquer,
I won't be left behind,
I'll make my Own Happy ever After.
I'll open my eyes,
Haiku Collection 01Haiku Collection 0113 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a leaf descends
the lover mourns
the warming water
flows in constant sobs
the warrior leans
into the autumn wind
chance a jasmine scent
green, black, earl gray
birch in steep, cheese on wheat
we relax on grass
crisping leaves, moistening bodies
woken smiling embers
paint in their den
resolved in white
creations as shells
stand on the beach and point
"this was a fruit of my life."
I spread my arms and smile--
love is not a breeze
cools my still cheek--
light spring wind
between the pear trees
next to you
walking this morning
the blue jay flees my approach
I still see the moon
sitting with his life
in front of honest water
next to his cell phone
within a vernal landscape
passing bumble bee
drops of rain water
infuse mountain streams to feed
roots of the pear t
Cliff NotesCliff Notes12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Cricket leg serenades
To this Asbach taste that veneers late Tuesday -
Companions to a cork parade
Of characters strolling through the vines;
Residential escape in charmed, young prime
Staving off charge of rolling night.
Fetch your pink,
From recessed cupboards, bottled up
To pour on ice.
Lay the tumbler to the coaster;
Watch condensation droplets
Pool into a question
The modern art above your bed
Grasping for tradition, well-kept
And bred in sound conditions;
A sieve that bled until she cried
From underneath those lines,
And you found heaven
Through that answer in her eyes
Shattering shock of matter melting,
Diluting tonight's pride and worth
As the minutes go by;
Leave rocks behind
To remind of true meaning -
Everything at home is everything that's right.
The Chronicles of Bob Pt. 2THE CHRONICLES OF BOB Pt. 2The Chronicles of Bob Pt. 29 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The rain spattered down against the window; a cadence of gloom. Paul looked over to the window. "Sigh," he sighed, "Why does life have to be so boring?" He continued staring out the window. Endless sheets of rain, poring, dumping water against his window. "Wouldn't be surprised if it started flooding," he grumbled.
"WHAT!?!" Paul screamed falling backward, "Who in the blue blazes are you? And where are you, show yourself!" he commanded.
"I'm right here," came the voice, "Right above your bookshelf."
Paul's eyes traveled fearfully towards the top of the bookshelf, expecting nothing less than some strange man there to abduct him; thusly he was reaching simultaneous for the baseball bat that was under his desk. What he did not expect, however, was a green cat with pink spots, but that's exactly what he saw. "Hello," said the cat pleasantly.
just in caseto be with you in those explosions of september nights, when the worldjust in case6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
seems to end in epic sighs and glorious rollercoaster rides.
and to see your face light up like a thousand bulbs plugged in a 2400 watt battery
only with the brightness of the sun,
and the purity of the moon.
to sing you to sleep wishing for the lullabies to end and insomnia to illusion your mind,
just so I could see your eyes open again.
to hate you forever in those mad days of unforgiven silence, when you would forget,
and i would despise to remember.
and to see the way we would fight like newborn kittens, only we were just children of Adam
and had words for claws, and intuition for instincts.
to see all that and never to cry,
more out of relief than joy.
i could have you with me a million times,
and lose you another two million,
will never die.
sparrowsparrow8 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The trees are unsettled, their limbs tossing in the violent tempest -- gauges for Natures wrath or love. The storm plays like a silent film as I sit in the cabin of my car. My old campus gym sits in the distance like a stolid mountain.
The world comes to life in stereo as I step out. Dashing down the side of the parking lot, my umbrella mimics the trees. Trying to avoid the rain, I notice an upturned creature on the wet pavement. I stoop to examine it. Its pale legs stick up like flags of resignation. People must think Im crazy, a university student examining some dead thing. He must be studying taxidermy.
Its a baby sparrow.
Its feathers are maturing over its soft pink underbelly, bunched into a mangy blanket by the rain. Its feet shiver in the wind. Dirt, pine needles, and assorted debris are stuck to its bo
The Expected Part 1 of 4—Preface—The Expected Part 1 of 411 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
This is a walnut.
The walnut has no name. Its Latin appellation, however, is juglans, short for jovis glans. Jovis is what Zeus was called when the Romans saw him and decided they wanted one of those too; glans means nuts. Jupiter's nuts. It is highly probable that, back when this name was chosen, people meant to say walnuts were nuts fit for the gods. Funny, what the evolution of language can do to nuts.
This walnut is lying on the wooden floor of a monastery, a monastery beautifully situated in the middle of a seemingly endless forest.
This is Friar Mattheus. In a moment, Friar Mattheus will step on the walnut, slip, fall down the stairs, and break two ribs. Friar Mattheus really likes walnuts. A little earlier, he was going to crack this one open and enjoy it. At that exact moment, he had a doubtlessly divine inspiration for a chorale praising his saint of choice. The ingenuity of this chorale's words was that they would only make
BigAnd it all came together with a crashBig11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
an expanding singularity creating
Monumental foam rising in a desert sea
The monsters and the carnivores of the soon
and the twisting never
The cancers and the throbbing monads
The green megaliths and groping
The plush sentients
All at once.
Ascending mightily a broad expanse of unbounded
But all the same expelling passionately
the voidless form of before
to sum up into waves of sonic being all that
would pass for passing
all that would crash and scream and pass.
and indolent proportions
of waving wind spun across new fields
making bread, eating it
Haiku For AlexanderInsinuating,Haiku For Alexander6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
his voice weaves dark messages
above minor keys.