The horses well rested and fed snorted at the dawn showing their defiance. Bring the day, bring the cold of the morning and the heat of midday. Bring mud and hard packed earth.
Bring rain and drought. And if this is my last ride then bring me
home, to the place of rest. No fear in the wild eyes of those, only
the excitement that comes with accepting the world as it is and
embracing their place in it.
Added by Paul O on September 30, 2010 at 11:50pm —
Art that comes out bloodless with some purple in the bylines was what he complained about, and the comments piled up. No matter that name upon name was tossed at him. All that produced was an audible, “Ho-hum,” and he continued following the leads. “But if you’re so bored,” one wag intoned, “why don’t you
write the Great American Novel?” I have nothing so audacious to say, nor could I be persuaded to make anything more of this disappointing situation… Continue
Added by Michael Brown on September 30, 2010 at 11:30pm —
To the right of the door stood a rickety bookcase, three shelves crammed to the max with paperback books, stacked every which way. Some had spilled onto the floor and now were just part of the mess.
There'd been books Eddie'd read 20 times on those shelves, back when the shelves were kept dusted and neat. He'd arranged books by authors: Hammett, Ross Thomas, James Ellroy, et al.--his library
, man, and he'd wanted to carry those books to the… Continue
Added by Robert Crisman on September 30, 2010 at 11:21pm —
The first sentence was boring.
The second sentence, although considerably longer, was not much more interesting.
When he considered adding a third sentence, one that would grab the… Continue
Added by Ron. Lavalette on September 30, 2010 at 8:30pm —
A bee hovers near my children as I push their double stroller down a sidewalk in Sugar Land. It occurs to me that my brother was severely allergic to bees so I fear my two and three year-olds might be also. I stop the stroller and peer over the visor to be sure the bee is gone, then before resuming our walk I stare ahead at a pleasant memory of my older brother David, of him saying, "Look over there!" then sneaking extra toys into my Cracker Jack box. I remember the yellow plastic giraffe,… Continue
Added by Teresa on September 30, 2010 at 7:30pm —
He started out tiny and like all infants, he needed support under his chin to hold up his head. When he learned to walk he loved to streak naked across the back yard to our grandmother's house after a bath, completely unaware that he was anything but free. Later in school he had trouble reading, trouble with math, so our father tried to beat
some better grades into him. At fifteen he found new friends, drugs for escape, a one-size-fits-all hole called the streets
. When he was… Continue
Added by Teresa on September 30, 2010 at 6:00pm —
"Thank you for this joyous occasion and beautiful gold watch. As you know, retirement is not an easy thing, so instead of talking about me I will say a few words about my wonderful daughter.
"Why may you ask am I speaking of my offspring at a… Continue
Added by Stephen Torelli on September 30, 2010 at 5:00pm —
In early April 2010 my wife of fourteen years and I woke up flat broke and homeless having just spent and lost thousands on a bad decision to move back up on the Blue Ridge, to leave the heat of the lowlands and breath mountain air again. She lost her job before Christmas, and now works sporadically as a gardener while my SS disability payments and North Carolina pension are being eaten alive at 29% interest by the gluttons who are our creditors. The past seven months have drained our energy,… Continue
Added by Arthur Dubrul Daniels on September 30, 2010 at 4:53pm —
Eddie'd never throw a party at his place. His furniture was Salvation Army crapola, the kind you find in most low-rent pads: a couch that swayed like an old broke-back horse, a raggedy armchair, a crusty old Zenith TV, a rug the color of old chewing gum. The coffee table was just up from kindling, the end tables too, and the lamp was the kind you'd find on the sidewalk in front of some boarded-up flophouse.
The walls were nicotine brown bleeding rust, over white that had thrown the flag of… Continue
Added by Robert Crisman on September 30, 2010 at 4:41pm —
All gussied up in her new outfit, a sunshine yellow sweater and bright, colourful print skirt, she held court in the big chair next to the fireplace. Helium-filled balloons floated over her head, bouncing as her petite body wiggled with joy. Bright, crumpled paper littered the floor around her small feet, reaching up to the growing stack of cards and boxes that filled in the space around her .
Oohs and ahs greeted each new unveiling. A silver bracelet followed a green scarf, a book… Continue
Added by Tiger on September 30, 2010 at 3:25pm —
‘Come home with me… please, please Roxy.’
Somewhere beyond the gunmetal buildings a car horn wailed a lament and the traffic lights changed from green to red.
‘It’ll cost ya,’ she smirked.
‘That’s not funny,’ his eyes reflected back the cobalt cold stone of hers.
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other; bathed in the glow of the streetlight she cast a dark shadow across the pavement, across the stooping, pleading figure of her father.
‘All I wanted was for you… Continue
Added by Stephen Buss on September 30, 2010 at 2:26pm —
Philip Sully has a secret. Its weight slows his progress and makes his book bag float in comparison--third grade Science, Math, and Spelling books within--as he pulls the pavement with each labored step between his front door and his locker.
The principal is on the stoop when Philip summits the stairs, and while he knows Philip to be one of the Good Kids, his sensors catch something, but he'll let the boy pass on precedent.
The secret has swollen and tickles Philip's insides… Continue
Added by Jared Handley on September 30, 2010 at 12:43pm —
The place isn't much, a transient's pad--stay there 10 years it's a transient's pad--smelling of smoke and old sour sweat. The bedroom's a mess, festooned with crap: old clothes piled high on dresser and floor; small piles of paperback books, discarded papers, pop cans, etc.; three butt-choked ashtrays, one on the dresser, one by the bed, and one on the chair that has been there since Eddie moved in.
No bugs in the place as of yet; God must have blinked at the squalor and told them to hold… Continue
Added by Robert Crisman on September 30, 2010 at 12:42pm —
When I was three, I cut my left foot wide open on a mason jar while running through a sprinkler in the tall grass with neighbor kids.
The oldest boy in the bunch, who was about twelve, carried me to his house, propped me up on the kitchen table, and tended to my bloody appendage.
He washed it in the sink and wrapped it in a nice white terry cloth towel, then gave me a cold glass of Coke to drink.
He told me stories of faeries and magic, bears and coyotes, mean billy… Continue
Added by Sissy Anderson on September 30, 2010 at 11:00am —
Turning the corner he had walked too many times to remember, Ashton was suddenly snapped from the partial catatonia that was so characteristic of his daily return journey by a most peculiar sense that he had passed from a reality he had all too much come to take for granted into an entirely different place he simultaneously perceived to be both comfortably familiar and wholly alien.
He (like you) drew in a deep breath and stared down at his feet; the pavement below him,… Continue
Added by NoozeHound on September 30, 2010 at 10:33am —
Not fiction, I have had a concept in my head for over a decade often articulated in seriousness and greeted with laughter and derision.
I grow desperate as does the world for if my assumptions are correct it ends the need for the heavy dependence our world has on fossil fuels .
I have searched the web offered engineers money to simply manufacture one small critical piece to test my theory and had no success because people say what for then ignore me as they do not like the… Continue
Added by Thomas Winslow on September 30, 2010 at 9:01am —
I’ve never been in court before, and everything changed the moment the armed bailiff escorted us upstairs. All the chit chat downstairs died on our lips as we shuffled into the wide open room. In God We Trust in gold on the back wall, high ceilings slotted with narrow windows to let in heavens light, hard oak benches that made me wonder if I should genuflect and say a prayer. Should I pray for the… Continue
Added by Kristine_ES on September 30, 2010 at 9:00am —
‘Glasgow’S miles Better’
: an early, feelgood, cultural Macintosh (Charles Rennie) marketing drive.
Book fairs in the eighties with three, two, one children, a truncated trunk road, city centre motorway, footbridge over to the Mitchell Library and a buzz of a backside view of new architecture intermarrying with old.
Later, Scottish Opera matinées: seven hours drive for two hours of sometimes less than enthralling, but a Fascist ‘Tosca’ remembered yet for… Continue
Added by Sandra Davies on September 30, 2010 at 8:34am —
My lawyer friend from the city decided that he was tired of the rat race and wanted to move to the country. His dream was to become a chicken farmer ? So he bought a nice farm in his favourite part of the country , moved in and started to plan his chicken business. As it turns out , his next door neighbour is also a chicken farmer. The neighbour visits him one particular day and says , "chicken farming isn"t easy , but I am so glad to have you in the area , so to… Continue
Added by mal on September 30, 2010 at 7:54am —
Abandoned thongs hung from a wire fence, where locals had strung them up. Perhaps it was in the hope that their owners would come looking for them. On many, the colours had faded, and cobwebs had gathered. No two were the same, and none belonged. No one was coming to find them. They were forgotten, suspended together, yet alone.
Added by HollyBerryBlossom on September 30, 2010 at 2:39am —