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Lincoln LogsLincoln Logs, she said.
You dont like them?
She smoothed out the wrapping paper on her lap and frowned. I asked for that poetry book. You know, the one with the picture of the tree on the front?
And I had planned on getting it for her until I saw the little sticker with the price on the back.
You cant build a house out of poetry, I said.
She burst into tears, and I got the feeling it was the wrong thing to say.
The LispMarietta suspected strongly by the end of the week, but had little opportunity to pinpoint any proof. She spent every spare moment with Henry in the subtle pursuit of slipping him up, jarring the conversation into unexpected turns. Yes became a rather indifferent okay or alright, no matter how many different ways she managed to ask for affirmation. He veered around plurals and possessives as if they were road kill.
How many balloons are there? she asked.
Eight, said Henry.
Not seven? It looks to me like there are seven.
Henry stiffened but didnt back down. Huh. I thought I noted one more.
You mean you thought you spotted it? Saw it, maybe? Noticed it, even?
Henry tied the balloons to the chair and turned to face her.
I didnt note it, he said.
And that was the end of that.
Marietta wondered if she was the only one to detect
The Man in the Bowler HatIn his defense, the man at the door looked more pathetic to Lydia than a red sock on laundry day. He gripped the wet bowler hat with two clenched fists, dripping considerably on her Wipe Your Paws welcome mat. She had trouble keeping her eyes open long enough to glare at him.
Four in the morning, she said. You know, like the little hand on the four, except you have a tad trouble seeing it, what with it being dark outside?
Miss, I know it might come as a shock to you, but-
Shock? No. Surprisingly, things dont seem very shocking at you-must-be-kidding-me oclock. The milk hasnt even come yet. You have me up earlier than the milk.
The man with the bowler hat studied the dahlias hanging over the archway of the front door. They were salmon, the color of doubt. We found her, Miss. And she wants to see you. We found her and she wants to see you as soon as you can.
Lydia was already searching for her shoes
You Were My SunshineThere, in a too clean room and in a too white bed, lied a young girl. She had very pretty brown hair and very tired brown eyes that she tried to keep open despite everything. In one hand in was a much smaller hand, in the other hand was a piece of folded paper.
Gasping, she tightened her hand, not for a second loosening her grip on the slim fingers in her palm. Sliding her right hand to her left, the young girl deposited the yellowing page in, letting the second hand clench around it. Exchanging the paper from the first hand to the second, the owner of the hand- the young girl's friend- unfolded it gently. Written on the faded slip was a collection of words:
"Hello, my darling, my sweet.
May I please twist you a tale?
Do not worry, it shall be neat;
I can promise you that, at least.
Before I get started,
Let me ask you one thing.
Oh, my darling, my dear, my sweet;
Have you seen the invisible rain?
I know you have painted with
The colors of the wind.
That you have weaved your quilts
The treatyYou were at home one day and you heard a noise so when you went to check it out you noticed a tiny ( can be anything ) and you remember the treaty saying that you catch one you an do it anything you want to but you can't kill it. Once you did catch what we'll you do anything goes.
18+ is allowed but no killing my oc
Tines for the studentsYou were in class when the teacher hands every one a human she said you can do what ever u want with the human but no killing them so what we'll you do with your human girl/boy
Mystery islandYou were on a airplane with one of your friends when they pan had to land on some island and once it landed every one got out. That's when every one realizes that's everything is huge. What we'll you do
1) find a place to hide
2) find a giant
3) switch your the giant
If your the giant
You were walking one day when you see a tiny airplane landing what we'll u do
1) go see it
2) find a mate
3) make them your slaves
18+ is allowed but no killing my oc
Shrunken at a gymYou got shrunk at a women's/ men's gym what we'll u do
Anything can happen 18+ is allowed if wanted
Full CircleThe End. The two most powerful words in a writer's arsenal...
But what do they really mean?
It concludes things, it wraps them up, it sums up the entirety of your words. When it all comes tumbling down in an exuberant crescendo of tumultuous recompense...
But it also indicates when the story is over. When the expected actually happens, and things continue on in their natural order... Whatever that order may be is up to the reader. Left to dream, in a nexus, full of dying carbon stars...
That doesn't mean nothing ever happens after that point, it simply means there are no more interesting things to tell those who are viewing the unchained shaded events. Everything after that will be normal, and boring and expected and blah and perchance even blaze'. Business as usual. Nothing more and no less.
What can you do to spice it up? Nothing... Short of writing an entire sequel, that is.
Maybe it was time things came full circle.
And one more thing... I have found the
Lost Have you ever been lost? And I don’t mean you're in the supermarket and you can’t find your mum. I mean really, really proper lost. You’re walking down the hallway of your school, heading on your normal route to your next normal class running your hand normally along the lockers as you normally do when you suddenly realize, you’re lost. You realize that these people all around you, while you recognize their faces, and could probably even list off some of their names, are total strangers. You notice that these halls that you’ve walked a thousand times and will very well probably walk a thousand more are completely foreign to you. You can feel the cold metal of the lockers and while you know that you’ve felt it before, it seems brand new. You know that it is your hand touching the lockers and while you know that it is there, you also know that you did not put it there. Have you ever been lost? So lost that you can stare into the fac
AfterAs everyone knows, all good things must come to an end. It is the way of the unending circle of life. This life cycle was no different on this day than any other. On this crisp September morning, morning, a maple tree stood tall, silent, and sturdy, providing shade to anyone who happened to sit underneath. It was quiet in the park, the children had played their daily during the summer were away at school, learning multiplication, spelling, and other such things that one learns in the new school year.
Yes, the park was utterly quiet, aside from the conversing birds, the robin couple arguing with the wrens about who made which nest.
The only other considerable sound was the terrible screaming. Screaming of who, you ask? Not who, but what.
The maple tree-which we previously mentioned- being a deciduous tree, had suddenly lost its grip on one of its hundreds of energy factories—or leaves, if you prefer. This certain leave had known for weeks that its unavoidable death was comin
Winter WonderlandI disapprovingly look out over the desolate white expanse. The brutally cold winter had reduced it to almost nothing. The flowers, grass, and plants that used to flourish in the spring and summer had been reduced to dry, brown masses in the fall that are now fully concealed by a large blanket of snow.
I inhale the crisp breeze that plays with the short, chestnut locks of my hair. It seems to wake up my senses as I trudge through the powder. I take a second glance. This time, instead of whitewashed nothingness, I see magnificence. The sparkling, crystal beauty of the scene is awe-inspiring. The way the colorless light reflects off of the shining icicles is almost like prisms, casting long rainbows along the drifts. The tall pine trees in the glade are covered in minute icy formations that extend into breath-taking masterpieces of frost.
I continue to walk through, feeling somewhat guilty of spoiling the picture perfect site. I smile to myself as I think that just moments ago, if I had n
Made in HollandI had never heard of a music box before she let me hold it. She said it felt too cliché to be real, and thats how she knew that there wasnt any such thing. But I could feel its weight in my hands and hear the tinny tune of its labor, and I started to think that maybe she was wrong.
She said you couldnt trust a musician, and thats all it was. A tiny, plastic, fake of a musician. She even said the sticker on the back had lied, and that it probably wasnt Made in Holland. Probably not any of the other European tourist countries, she said.
When it got so cold that we couldnt feel our fingertips and the sky hurt to look at, I played the music box and pretended I was Made in Holland too.
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