|"Tell us about your wishlist." This is my wishlist. I wish for things on this list.|
the underpass- 397 wordsI exhaled in the September night and left a part of myself in the air, drifting ghost-like, a translucent body, a symbol for something with no name. I pulled the leather jacket closer, breathing in cold and the familiar smokey scent of Uncle Matthew, that lone wolf gone now from the cancer. The weight was comforting, the way it lay on my arms; it made me feel like I was part of the night. Part of the dark pavement, the long shadows, the cloudy sky. Spotted with stars, I wouldn't know where to look for the moon.the underpass- 397 words by mackwrites
A soft "ding" signified that Madeline had gotten a text. She looked down at her phone, face bathed in pale light as we walked towards an overpass, graffiti on the cement columns holding up the highway, shards of glass crunching under our boots.
“Hey,” I looked up at the accusatory greeting, noticing a figure huddled by the wall and sitting on a flattened cardboard box. “Are you a boy or a girl?” I hesitated, but Madeline looped her arm through mine and st
Taut-665 wordsRobert had always enjoyed dressing well, until the day his tie became just another noose in a life full of things determined to strangle him.Taut-665 words by mackwrites
On his evening run the night before, he'd stopped briefly beside a boxer dragging a teenager on a walk. The dog rasped, his breath haggered and wet, spotting the sidewalk with drool. Later, Robert dreamnt about the dog, straining against his leash; a car swerved into the dream and hit the dog, who let out a strangled cry.
Robert jerked awake, his body tingling, and lay with his eyes open in the darkness.
He lay there until his alarm clock went off, a sound which set in motion the rest of his morning routine. But the simple actions, like brushing his teeth and having a shower, now seemed to undermine his will to go on. What was the point of having healthy teeth but being sad and alone? How did personal hygiene matter when he never seemed to impact or affect others anyway?
To check his e-mails at work later that morning, he had to push aside a pile
In the End - 235 words"Look at them, Marcus. Take away their pain and they'll do anything! Father always said it wasn't human, but after all what's good about human nature? That's why I'm talking to a severed head." The mad man paused, glancing at the vacant stare and limp skin mounted on the wall. "Well, he's not here now, so it doesn't matter anyway."In the End - 235 words by mackwrites
A knock came at the door.
"What?" he snapped.
The door opened and a man bowed his way into the sterile white room, holding a silver platter in his hands.
"Idiot!" The mad man dashed the platter out of his hands, spilling everything. "I want alcohol."
Smiling and nodding without a word, the man left.
The mad man snarled at the closing door, then paused. A shudder crossed his face, contorting his features. Clutching at the back of a green armchair, the only piece of furniture in the room, as pain shot through his abdomen, he looked at the part of the wall where a faded outline was all that remained of a mirror. He frowned, collapsing into the chair.
luckless I left youLuckless I left you, openingluckless I left you by mackwrites
and closing. Opening, empty
hands. A stain spreading out
from your palm, a tacky feeling
in your fingers; a touch
you can't take back.
It's January and the shudder
of warm breath hangs in the
frozen air, sways as I pass,
leans in to whisper things
and dissipates before telling me.
In my room at the end of the world
I feel the beats between things like
a thumb and a smartphone. I am
moments between eyelashes
and sodium, hydrogen, and oxygen.
Water rushes through a pipe
and I put my head against it to listen.
A cat rolls on the carpet in
the sun spot, stretching, furry.
The earth turns under the guise
of moving us, and I wonder where
we will end up when it is done.
Strangers on a TrainI got on this train at half past two without telling a soul. My family never could have let me go if they had known. But this was something I had to do; I really had no choice.Strangers on a Train by vital-organs
The people gazed politely out the tinted windows, or on the floor, or at their own pale hands folded neatly in their laps. But never at me or anyone else. The car I was in was dimly lit, small, cold, with orange plastic seats lined up on either side of the center aisle. I stood in the middle, one arm hooked around the metal pole near the door for balance and the other buried deep in my pocket. There was no luggage at the feet of the other passengers, nor was there a man to check tickets.
I sighed, letting out a plume of chilled air, and gripped the pole more tightly as the train ground to a halt at the next station, a dark mausoleum, where a passenger waited. He glanced down at the worn leather suitcase in his hand then back
Untitled - First ParagraphIt was a metallic day. Dried fruit lay scattered on the sidewalk as if there had been a battle between the apricots and the apples. Later, she would remember the fruit in more detail than she had seen it at the time. She would wonder at that, in the numbness that protected her from thinking about more important things.Untitled - First Paragraph by BerylAlexandros
New Beginnings Entry.The day seemed in no mood to cooperate with the "requirements" of a proper funeral. The sea of black crowded the cemetery despite the blinding sunlight and the current heat wave that had swept over the Graille Empire since the beginning of the summer. Hundreds of people were in attendance, as was an expected turn-out. Amidst the dresses and formal attire stood lines upon lines of soldiers in smart raven-hued uniforms, a fiery-golden phoenix wing crest emblazoned adamantly on the light cotton. Not a single man or woman in uniform stood out in front of anyone; for the moment, they all silently agreed to stand as equals in the face of their former commander-in-chief. More than one pair of eyes stung with tears-- Fights for his position could wait for a few hours...New Beginnings Entry. by Imperial-Obsession
Tiresias UnboundI. The Beginning
My life - such as it was at the time, nothing more than a polliwog in my mother's belly began one warm summer night when the earth's shadow momentarily obscured an overripe harvest moon.
My mother was nineteen at the time, a tiny creature with silver eyes and sun-gold hair that ran to her waist like unfurled skeins of silk. On the night in question, however, it was bound and tucked beneath a little red cap, and my mother was not my mother, but a young girl playing dress-up as a boy in order to deal cards to tourists. Still, this had not prevented her from being lured into a nearby gondola in order to talk more to the beautiful young man who had caught her fancy at the roulette table.
I discovered some time later that he was actually younger than my mother, but she never supposed that at the time. He was taller than her by nearly a foot, and had a self-assurance few seventeen-year-olds possess, though he was no more experienced. Nevertheless,