Locked

I keep two birds locked in a golden cage, atop the kitchen counter in a dusty, musty house. The paint is peeling, the floorboards are gone, blood streaks the walls, and the two birds stare at me from the confines of their golden cage.

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Rating: 6.3/10 (7 votes cast)

An independent study about the shortness and futility of clocks

Today, she might just drink a cup of coffee, smile at the corner shop flower girl, visit the museum of Extatic Arts and dance around the telephone pole for fun. Tomorrow, she will have enough time to worry about time and her future-if there will be one.

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Rating: 7.0/10 (1 vote cast)

Playing the Gig

Our band had booked the gig a year ago while tooling through Wyoming on the way to the west coast, but we came back to find the factory closed and the buildings slumped, abandoned to time and weather. We pulled our gear out of the van and set up anyway, cranked the amps to ear-splitting and rocked out under the lazy summer sun for a few rats, a bone-thin stray dog and the lonely ghost of an old miner.

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Rating: 8.0/10 (12 votes cast)