Beneath the skies of murk and grey
there is a sea, a coast, a bay
it is the sea of lone.
The surface dreary all year-long
and yet below there's something wrong
a never-ending storm.
The glacial tempest never dies
an inch from safety there it lies
with hushed protracted moan.
Those ships that sail by wind and breeze
and make their way across the seas
their voyage sweet and warm,
come not to these malignant pools
stay far away for they aren't fools
and so it's left without
a mate to tame the deepest churn
to bubble mutely scream and yearn
but now a ship floats near.
A crystal ship of purest glass
from hull and jig to highest
"Beef Stroganoff" the man said, ruffling his brush mustache with his forefinger.
"And a beer," he added, "Heineken," as he closed the menu, handed it over and patted his broad belly in a satisfied gluttonous fashion.
"I'll have the grilled Tenderloin, lean, and medium-rare, the Caesar salad, no cheese, eggs or croutons and a diet Pepsi." The woman, even more thickset than her husband was clearly trying yet another failed diet.
Ingrid jotted the orders down and hurried to the kitchen.
"Ingrid, phone call" Tim Genssen, the owner, said clearly irked. No doubt she was going to get the discourse on not having people call her at work. She passe
The way back took twice as long as the way there, yet he made the journey in time for work and then some. Throughout the lengthy drive he kept glancing over at the long silver rod on the passenger's seat. It was stained at the top with brown smudges and has lost its luster in the 30 years prior to it being exhumed, yet it was as sturdy as the day George had buried it. George's eyes were drawn back to it constantly as if it were about to fly out the window.
At last he pulled into his regular parking spot, which he had vacated years ago, it seemed.
The front door of his house was locked. He put the key and turned, then pushed carefully and wi
"Your mom will pick you girls up after school." Ingrid tipped the frying pan over Allison's plate, filling it with scrambled eggs.
"I'm staying at Ally's tonight?" Mariah asked with her mouth full. She was already digging into her own eggs with ravenous exuberance.
"Yes, I need to pick up an extra shift at the restaurant," Ingrid put a mix of cucumber and carrot slivers on each plate, "and don't talk with your mouth full".
Allison and Mariah high-fived as Ingrid topped the breakfast by placing an orange juice box on the table and went out of the kitchen pulling her hair together into a ponytail.
Despite them having everything ready and ha
Marion Looked around. The street was empty of people yet full of shadows. Each made her think there was someone lurking behind a wall or in the shade of a tree. She turned her head every few seconds, ending up cricking her neck.
"Miserable woman" she muttered rubbing it furtively. That witch was trying to psych Marion out. She would not give her the satisfaction. What was she going to do anyway? But Marion couldn't stop herself from feeling vulnerable out in the open like this. Her lime green, lemon of a car waited for her a block away. She could never find parking closer to home. Once safely in the driver's seat she locked the doors and br
George stepped outside and looked over the parking lot. There were only a handful of cars at this early hour. He shivered against the chill and marched over to a black Mercedes.
Within minutes he was speeding down the highway. To get to the coast, however, was half a day's drive. He did not know why he wanted to go down to the ocean but it seemed clear to him that it was well worth the countless hours on the road.
State after state came and went. After a nearly twelve hour non-stop drive he finally got out in Cape May, New Jersey and stretched his legs. He breathed deeply the salty air engulfing him and felt his troubles melt away. His moth
Marion Levitt got out of bed and glanced out the window. A dim orange light shone somewhere in the distance giving the darkness a mellow kind of glow. As she drew nearer, Marion realized it had come from a street lamp fifty yards down the road. It lit the area just enough to make out silhouettes. She turned back to the room. The only thing that showed was a blue light from the clock on the wall. There were several hours left until she had to get up, yet she could not lie back down. For hours, she tried to sleep yet she could not. Lying awake, the previous day kept going around her mind.
Crossing the room, Marion opened her closet door and a
George Hatlestad lay awake in bed his eyes itched with tiredness. All night long he tossed and turned wondering what awaited him at work today. After last night's unexpected visit and what transpired since, George did not know how he could go to work and face his assistant Marion.
A sharp noise pierced the quiet dark bedroom and he jerked up. With a slam of the hand the alarm clock became still and quiet once more. George on the other hand was no longer motionless. Slowly as if from a hangover he waded to the living room. For a moment, George was confused, then remembering he did some cleaning after Marion had left, he headed for the bedroom
"Enter" the voice from within came weary and hoarse.
The door opened and two young ladies passed the threshold tentatively. The tall one had short blond hair that looked as if it was cut off using a chainsaw and betrayed dark roots. The white T-shirt covering most of her torso exhibited garish swearwords and fake blood. It was tight against her skin and stretched to breaking point by two overinflated protuberances. Above ripped low cut jeans, her skin revealed partially covered tattoos. The one that could be made out portrayed a double headed battle axe in poison green and boysenberry. Every step she took nearer the bed resonated around the
As she lies there in front of a hundred people, it is impossible to look. My wet eyes are drawn by a curious smudge on the ceiling. Words float by without lingering. Everything comes to an end. My mother at least had a full life. Words stop then start again. The same words in a different voice, and again, and again, people move by, a brush of a hand on my shoulder. Quickly they come, hastening away. It is hard to remain still.
My body shakes. I'm wrapped in the arms of love. I turn my head; Monica's face is sad but dry, strong and resolute. With a soft unyielding tug I am raised from the front pew. I am to be first. When I reach the casket I
Cars rush past in the other lanes. I can see them clearly through the glass but I roll down the window nonetheless. Air rushes inside and the cars become more real. I can feel every one zooming by. Yet it's all a blur. Everything. Life. It seems to zoom by but at the same time it seems to stand still. All colors seem to be grey, all warmth chill me to the bone. I feel the wind grazing my wet face.
I see her face swimming in front of me not as it was an hour ago with a tube in her mouth and bruises so bad barely an inch of skin was visible. No, I see it as it was before the accident: cream skin, brown eyes, dark chestnut hair and a smile that
Two people were sitting on a bench in the park. Mark was on his way home, a heart-festooned plastic bag in hand. He eyed the couple as they were glued to one another by the lips. He looked back after advancing a hundred yard and saw they didn't seem to have the need to come up for air. He turned from them, frowning now at a young lady striding past with a big stuffed bear under her arm and a smile upon her face as wide as the ocean.
She passed a man and woman who were strolling along his way, arms linked. The woman's head was leaning on the man's shoulder.
Mark quickened his step trying to ignore the swans in the pond. It was clearly foolis
Pain. Most people think they know the meaning of the word, but how many really do? How many people have felt pain so intense it runs through the entire body? You may scoff but physical pain is no greater than emotional pain. Indeed most people don't know what it's like to live in constant suffering. From the time I can remember myself I was as unhappy as I am now. Of course this is the understatement of the century. Everything I do, everything around me and everyone I know causes me great anguish every single day of my whole existence. The worst part of it is that I do it to myself as well. I say as well but if truth be told, I am mostly resp
My heart clenched powerfully as I looked at the ocean beneath me fall far into oblivion. My skin was becoming hastily drenched seemingly to replenish the void. And then came the wind. With a howl such as one made by a wounded animal, it swept through on all directions lashing ferociously with the force of a speeding train. It pulled every drop of sweat off my body and proceeded to try and remove the skin. It was doing a fine job too. My skin was stretched to breaking point.
I could not move a muscle. Chilled to the bone, they have atrophied to the point where even blinking was impossible. Ice flew past on the wings of the wind sniping at me l