“It was a perfectly good grand piano.” She thought, as she was unraveled by the mounting crescendo.
Before I had you, I was a snowflake— cold, lonely, and lost. Now that I have you, I am in love with the thought that perhaps, just perhaps, we both are
snowflakes holding hands so that when we fall to the snow on the ground, we will fall warmly together in perfect harmony.
I opened a fortune cookie. It was a piceous cookie.
“He’s not coming, is he?” I squeezing my mother’s hand, the multi-colored party hat on my head slipping down. My mother squeezed back, and without a word walked back inside the house.
May the Lord strike me deaf if I’m not telling the truth.
It started the night of the Gleason wedding: Missy Gleason and Joe McGregor’s eldest boy, Thomas, had decided to tie their knot at the Town Hall instead of at Missy’s folks’ place, which infuriated Mother Gleason enough to kill her cactus, Ralph, by nudging it out the window (Ralph’s home had been that windowsill since before Mother Gleason could remember); and Missy’s sisters had had their wedding and reception and, later, a funeral, at the old Gleason homestead, so why couldn’t Missy? The instant Mother Gleason found out that Missy was going to be a girl she began looking forward to the day her youngest, and final child, would walk down the aisle… so, naturally, the Town Hall seemed not only an impersonal choice but also an aberrant drift from the long-held Gleason family tradition, of which Missy would have no part, stating, “Because it’s not at the house, that’s why,” further infuriating her mother, who, incidentally, insisted on naming her daughter Mildred Ester Gleason, but had changed her mind when her husband threatened to leave and never return, saying, “…if you demonize that child with that name, I’ll…” So, Missy it was.
Afraid is the man who keeps to himself his life as if guarded… who keeps social togetherness at arm’s length… and who stares at his shoes wondering where and when it all went wrong, mumbling to himself about times that should have been. Terrified is he who journeys back in time to change what was (if only in his mind) into what should have been, thus living a life aberrant to the original plan.
The staccato reports of automatic gunfire filled the room, painting the walls with blood and bone until nothing so much as twitched. Satisfied, the child switched off the game system.
God spread yards of red yarn across the living room floor, weaving it through sofa and chair legs, purring all the while. From the safety of the piano He looked out over his work and saw that it was good
It touches me, and I shy away from it.
It comes closer, but I see no one.
I caught his eye just before he jumped in front of the bus; he smiled knowingly and threw me his breifcase. Inside were divorce papers and a woman’s severed hand wearing a beautiful wedding ring.
Charlie loves Jesus and Suzy. But Charlie doesn’t know Suzy worships Satan.
Paul grabbed his daughter’s hand just as she was about to fall over the railing. Her deep green sorrowful eyes met his for a moment and then she shook off his grip to let herself go over the edge.
“Marissa enters all like, ‘You know, guys, I just lost my phone but then I found it in my hand, tee-hee-hee… momentary blonde,’ and then starts gigglin and snorting like some twat from the Coast, to which I says, “No way, really?” like I truly give a shit, to which she responds in kind, ‘Way.’ What a twat.”
It had been nearly a week since his last dose and the man was shaking, jonesing for his next hit. He pushed open the door to the church and smiled at the pleasant warmth of the opiate as it flooded his bloodstream.
Standing in the crowd, I felt that the people didn’t notice me.
Amazed as I was, I looked in the direction of their gaze.
A smashed, upside down car revealed the mystery of my presence.
Sweetly falls a mother’s breath upon her child’s neck, as softly they touch cheek to cheek, and lash to lash they try to sleep. But her keen ears are ever wary of the sounds that stalk and creep… night has just begun.
William Blakely-Cooper stared at his hands and wondered how much time he had before he’d be dead, these very hands rotting on his chest six feet below. Knowing where you’d like to be buried and discussing it with your family is one thing, but standing on the very grass that’s going to be laid over you soon is another.
I am he who is… who stands before you… condemned to the cross… arisen. I am the man who has become… and I have returned.
The funeral was something of a catastrophe, I must say. People are known to exaggerate, but in this case the truth is much funnier, surprising, and, in the end, sadder than anything fiction could offer: the folks were gathering at the church just fine—many from different branches of the family, and all of them friends of my father—when the thought occurred to me that what a shame it was that Dad wasn’t around to watch this; he would have enjoyed himself… although my mother believed he was watching us from Heaven, and was possibly even in attendance, and dancing around the brawling men as they rolled thru the room, in which case he would have seen the lead-up to the tussle that upset his casket from its stand, which struck the floor and opened splaying its contents—one smartly dressed Stanley Smith—across the floor.
Einstein equals much controversy, squarely falling upon his adversaries’ shoulders. The professor was somewhat indifferent to his naysayers, in fact; to him they were sour men who merely had discovered not much of anything in the realm of physics, quantum or otherwise, and therefore had sought out to debunk any single figure who figured out too much.