There was a sad man who sat beside my bed.
He is one of the first things I remember. Other kids' imaginary friends were much more exciting. They had cowboys and princesses and animals of every description. But all I had was my Sad Man, and he wasn't exciting at all. All he ever did was sit there, and read his book (a different one each time, not that I could tell the difference. This was before I learned to read.) Sometimes he would hum snatches of Gilbert & Sullivan to himself. (I didn't know what they were at the time. It was only later, when I was 19 and saw the Pirates of Penzance for the first time that I recognized the music as the son
The wolf opens his mouth and breathes in
He breathes in mice, and strawberries, and tiny glass angels but it is not enough
He breathes in trees and chairs and ladies' shoes but it is not enough
He breathes in houses and mountains and elephants
He breathes in dinosaur bones
If anything, he is even hungrier than he was before
The wolf takes a deep breath and breathes in the World
He stands on empty space, looking for more
Space smells of smoke and burning metal
He breathes in Mercury, and Mars and Venus
He breathes in all the planets and the Sun
It still is not enough.
Looking around, he sees little lights blinking in the distance,
The wolf sp
King of the Ether by randomrandomandeven, literature
Literature
King of the Ether
Mad, they called me! Crazy hippie, they called me! But I'll show them. Hippies are pacifists. When I pull my army out of the ether they will rue the day they called me a disgusting mess with poor hygiene who needs to get a job! We will fly on the wind and travel through the smoke and everyone will have to wear blue hats on Sundays, oh yes they will! And I shall be the King of the Earth and the President of Mars and the Emperor of San Francisco. (I understand the last one passed away some twenty years ago, leaving no heirs, it was a tragic affair all round.) When I am king the world will sing, or so they say. Who are they, you ask? Did
A Short Play About Jam by randomrandomandeven, literature
Literature
A Short Play About Jam
LAURA is a workaholic who volunteers a lot. She appears extroverted and bubbly, but is under a lot of stress. ROBERT is a laid back goth whose penchant for sarcasm sometimes gets him in trouble.
Scene: A farmer's market. Robert and Laura get to the berry table at the same time. There is only one tray of strawberries left. They both reach for it.
Laura: Sorry, I had them first.
Robert: That is a lie. A blatant lie, in fact. Besides, you don't need the whole tray.
Laura: Listen honey, I've got a whole lot of jam to make. That means I need all of these. You can come back tomorrow, there'll be a fresh crop.
Robert: Honey?
Laura: That's what
The nude descended the staircase and the devil welcomed her with open arms.
"I thought you'd end up here, " he said, his grin full of teeth. She shuddered despite the heat.
"We are not so different you and I," he crooned. "We have committed the same crime." The nude hissed and spat in his eyes.
"We are not the same," she insisted. "We have done the same thing, but not for the same reasons. My intent "
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, girl," he said. "It does not matter now. You are mine,
and I have a job for you."
She was curious despite herself. Her slitted eyes brightened with interest.
"What? What do you want me
There was a sad man who sat beside my bed.
He is one of the first things I remember. Other kids' imaginary friends were much more exciting. They had cowboys and princesses and animals of every description. But all I had was my Sad Man, and he wasn't exciting at all. All he ever did was sit there, and read his book (a different one each time, not that I could tell the difference. This was before I learned to read.) Sometimes he would hum snatches of Gilbert & Sullivan to himself. (I didn't know what they were at the time. It was only later, when I was 19 and saw the Pirates of Penzance for the first time that I recognized the music as the son
The wolf opens his mouth and breathes in
He breathes in mice, and strawberries, and tiny glass angels but it is not enough
He breathes in trees and chairs and ladies' shoes but it is not enough
He breathes in houses and mountains and elephants
He breathes in dinosaur bones
If anything, he is even hungrier than he was before
The wolf takes a deep breath and breathes in the World
He stands on empty space, looking for more
Space smells of smoke and burning metal
He breathes in Mercury, and Mars and Venus
He breathes in all the planets and the Sun
It still is not enough.
Looking around, he sees little lights blinking in the distance,
The wolf sp
King of the Ether by randomrandomandeven, literature
Literature
King of the Ether
Mad, they called me! Crazy hippie, they called me! But I'll show them. Hippies are pacifists. When I pull my army out of the ether they will rue the day they called me a disgusting mess with poor hygiene who needs to get a job! We will fly on the wind and travel through the smoke and everyone will have to wear blue hats on Sundays, oh yes they will! And I shall be the King of the Earth and the President of Mars and the Emperor of San Francisco. (I understand the last one passed away some twenty years ago, leaving no heirs, it was a tragic affair all round.) When I am king the world will sing, or so they say. Who are they, you ask? Did
A Short Play About Jam by randomrandomandeven, literature
Literature
A Short Play About Jam
LAURA is a workaholic who volunteers a lot. She appears extroverted and bubbly, but is under a lot of stress. ROBERT is a laid back goth whose penchant for sarcasm sometimes gets him in trouble.
Scene: A farmer's market. Robert and Laura get to the berry table at the same time. There is only one tray of strawberries left. They both reach for it.
Laura: Sorry, I had them first.
Robert: That is a lie. A blatant lie, in fact. Besides, you don't need the whole tray.
Laura: Listen honey, I've got a whole lot of jam to make. That means I need all of these. You can come back tomorrow, there'll be a fresh crop.
Robert: Honey?
Laura: That's what
If I were cleaning my house, I’d wipe away the toxins
I’d scrub off the extra fat, and dust off every muscle,
Patch up the rough spots, by treating my body like
a Temple,
I’d mop the fears off the floor, throw away hatred
Stacked in piles, and blocking true self-perception,
Sweep the sorrows, bury the woes & forget all stress
that keeps me weighed down
Empty out the attic filled with past traumas, brush cobwebs
from clinging memories, kill the lingering spiders
that scurry in search of a new crevice to hide in,
Safe from the invisible, silent poison
Shut away the other voices, drain the haunting laughter
Then I’d vac
It was a day a little bit like today
the way the clouds threw shadows over the hill
the day you realized that you weren’t going to find your future.
You were never going to go to Mars
or Pern
or Krynn
You were never going to open the door that led, inexorably, to Narnia
(or even Telmar, you weren’t picky, and you were confident of your ability
to lead the revolution.)
Inigo Montoya was not going to slap you on the back
and invite you to take up the mantle of the Dread Pirate Roberts.
There would be no sardonic Vulcans or Andorians;
you would never be handed an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.
That was a strange day.
It