|
You are here |
epicchefshat.wordpress.com | ||
| | | | |
squirmzone.neocities.org
|
|
| | | | | ||
| | | | |
podcastle.org
|
|
| | | | | Ink, and Breath, and Spring by Frances Rowat The wheelbarrow thumped a jolt into Palwick's arms with every third step as he led Mattish back to where he'd found the corpse, out in the northern reaches of the garden. The trees waved dimly at them under the grey sky, and the thin morning light crept [...] | |
| | | | |
crooked.ink
|
|
| | | | | I The first time I saw him, I was about ten years old. He was climbing up the path that leads down to the creek, struggling because of the steep trail. He was carrying a bucket in one hand and a walking stick in the other. I was playing with some twigs, running around some imaginary monsters. He quickly glanced at me, with some disgust in his grin, then he turned uphill, towards home. | |
| | | | |
www.greaterwrong.com
|
|
| | | A middle-aged man, James, had come on stage believing it was an audition for American Idol. It wasn't. Out ran his ex-lover, Terri. "You said you loved me!" she said. "And then when I got pregnant, you disappeared! Twenty years, and you never even sent me a letter!" The crowd booed. As James tried to sputter a response, his wife ran onto the stage. "You cheating jerk!" she shouted at James. "You lying, cheating jerk! Twenty-five years we've been married, and I never..." She picked up a folding chair, tried to swing it at James. | ||