Lying in bed. The sheets kicked off. The darkness broken suddenly by the vivid strobe of light. It fills the room with the charged energy of anticipation. The fan whirs its hypnotic rhythm. Counting; "one-one hundred, two-one hundred, three-one hundred " waiting. Waiting for that sound to slice open the entire fabric of the sky. Thunder approaches with smells of memories drenched in childhood, forgotten tears, silent squeals of innocent excitement. Senses saturated as the rain begins to fall. Eyelids heavy. A lullaby of rain on a tin roof. A sleep of all that heaven must be.
the air i breathei never thought it would be you, but more and more i want to tangle you up in my brain like swirls of smoke from an exotic pipe. you're the drug i'm not addicted to, but keep going back to for more, more, more. okay, i lied. i am addicted to you. you're my gateway drug to love, and you'll linger in the bottom of my lungs forever.the air i breathe6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it all started when we were children. we didn't know back then that putting up with each other because we had to would turn into slipping off alone together. we didn't know that arguing heatedly in our shrill kid's voices would become whispers in the dark. we didn't know back when we were young, like brilliant stars in the sky, that one day we would collapse into supermassive black holes and nearly collide, nearly devour each other, nearly fuse into one.
we didn't know that we'd nearly destroy each other.
when i realized that i wanted you, it hit me like a hammer between the eyes. i desperately started looking for signs that you wanted me, too. maybe you moved
Close, yet so far...II.Close, yet so far...5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Call me Ben," you said. "Can I buy you a coffee?"
At first I think it's branches on a window, but then I recognize the sound as fingernails on wood. I stand up and run a hand through my wet hair, the only effort I make to make myself presentable.
Walking over to the door, I first check the cameras you installed. You know, just to be sure. I can't help hoping that it'll be you, sopping wet and ready to eat the dinner I made.
It's a policeman.
I was already in my second year of college. My major was forensic criminology.
I'd seen you around the shop before, so I recognized you, but I didn't know who you were.
You were twenty years old, a tall young man with dark brown hair that was always short, yet permanently messy.
You came up to me and held out a hand.
You said that I was different, and not just because examining dead bodies didn't gross me out at all.
You were quite different as well. Serious, reserved, and a lot more mature than other guys your age.
And when I became
OCD - wash, rinse, repeatI.OCD - wash, rinse, repeat5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
This year, the month of July has five Fridays, five Saturdays and five Sundays.
Five is my favourite number. When learning my times-tables in primary school, I preferred the structured regularity of the five-times-table; the way that the number five and multiples of five fit together so perfectly and predictably, like building blocks. I guess that was the beginning of my infatuation with the number five. Fives have several good qualities in comparison to other numbers - fives seem strong (like triangles) and dependable. In my mind they also take on physical properties fives are red, glowing, and attractive altogether the perfect number.
When I used to go to gym, I would always choose a locker with a number of a multiple of five, often searching through several locker rooms in order to find one. No other number would do. Often the compulsion to include the number five in my life would affect my beliefs a kind of quirky red-letter-day superstition that deemed some
An Atheist's prayerAn atheist isn't supposed to pray.An Atheist's prayer5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is supposed to find hope in some other way.
But then I look down on myself,
realizing I'm kneeling in this house.
Calling out to You for some kind of protection.
Never for myself,
But for others.
I know not to whom I'm confiding in.
003its easier to say0033 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"i'm fine, just tired"
than explain the water rising
when really they just asked out of politeness
and don't -actually- care.
For CiceroFor Cicero1 year ago in Historical More Like This
I recognise the centurion Herennius and a gang of four other men standing in the road, barring my way to the ship which would pointlessly take me to Greece. Pointless because why save a man who is living in his body but dead in his heart?
I would never have told this to Quintus or Atticus or Tiro, but I had delayed fleeing so that I would be caught. I had delayed so that I would die. Because what really had I left to live, and to fight for? My beloved daughter Tullia was two years dead and my precious Republic long since so. I realise that now. Ultimately even the most perfect of things must fall to time. I had risen from nothing to Father of the Country and now the time was mine. Time to die.
“Master what’re you waiting for!?”
“We’ll hold them off!”
“Just get to the ship!”
My slaves beg me to see reason and others prepare to fight, but I only hold up my hands and shake my head. I would not be
We Want To See The KingWe Want To See The King10 months ago in Historical More Like This
No one can have missed the stories of thousands of people queuing to see the coffin of the last medieval King, Richard III, as his bones lay in repose. Nothing short of such great enthusiasm should have been expected, for the reburial of a five hundred year old King in the twenty first century. This was a unique moment in history, a one-time event which we will never experience again. This has been recognised by people from all over the country and all over the world, who flocked in their thousands to Leicester Cathedral over Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. It does not seem however, that this was recognised by those who organised the event.
The coverage of the reburial decidedly failed to show all those who were so disappointed to be turned away. As one who was unable to take the day off work, I had no choice but to travel with my family, immediately from my place of work at five o’clock, to Leicester. This was a journey of over a hundred miles and took a little over three hours.