1443 7 6
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Ross, I've been a ghost hunter for almost 10 years now and this is a place I said I WOULD NEVER NEVER EVER go to!
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144342
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i saw a sign and it read A PERSON THAT IS MEAN TO THE WAITER IS A MEAN PERSON i thought of you with your high cheekbones, the sense of entitlement unparalleled, the superiority complex that hid much you had a gig and it had probably…
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144365
|
His shirts he hangs on the back of the chair, one on top the other so they won't wrinkle.
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144322
|
As I fall to the ground I realize that in a few moments I will be experiencing a new kind of pain. The last pain. The last pain I will ever feel.
|
144323
|
my crotch-heavy press of 'Yes.'
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144354
|
A study found that in bat species noted for female monogamy male bats have small testes and big brains, while in species noted for female promiscuity males have testicles five times as big, but smaller brains.
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144364
|
The dead want you to calm down.They are quite fine, and don't needyour post-mortem tears, the flowers and veils; their names mispronounced by preachers. None of your catechisms will do -- especiallyfor the children, who know them well and need no…
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144352
|
The manicured lawn rolls down either side of the knoll, punctuated with flat granite plaques, the occasional bouquet of cut flowers, a smattering of faded eight-inch American flags.
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144350
|
"The Chinese don't have no Mardy Grah, bitch."
|
144354
|
Uzma dashes up the stairs ahead of me . . .
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144332
|
"I'm just going to
take a power nap!"
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144355
|
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144320
|
My brother Herb married his high school sweetheart right after completing college. This was a girl named Beryl, whom he'd met originally in Mr. Reinert's marching band at York High School in Elmhurst. I remember one day in particular in the middle of the
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144343
|
|
144300
|
Cooking dinner for one in a city that isn’t my home. A beautiful city that I’m slowly losing interest in, just as I become a local. In a tiny apartment set in the most realistic part of town, I’ve turned the music up loud to drown out my thoughts.
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144361
|
It was the dead of winter. I took my father's shotgun from his closet. He kept it wrapped up in one of those khaki-colored gun tote bags that had a zipper running the whole length of the gun. It was a 16-gauge, single action shotgun. Anyone could tell wha
|
144377
|
She tossed the big bird into the air. It wobbled, then flew away.
|
144210
|
in her bedroom, opening night of his solo show she is snapping her nylons to center the seam stretching from her toes to where the line disappears into the hem of her dress.
|
144280
|
Beautiful, he thinks, as he taps the ash of his cigarette over the balcony, but this is not good enough.
|
144200
|
When we saw the window, we were impressed. It was so clean and transparent that it reminded us of a new pair of glasses, everything so crisp and clear through it. It looked on to nothing. Actually it looked on to the refridgerators and a few stoves, though most of the…
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144200
|
I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.
|
144200
|
But she didn't. It would have been no historical anomaly if she had, by the way. She played with the world like it was a toy. Sometimes I wondered if I'd wake up in a box, a victim of live internment, and scream only to be humiliated later by her laughter
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144242
|
Feeding you a taste of croissant
|
144231
|
ghosts of the previous owners who leave a trail of whispers
|
144289
|
a half-moon hung straight up and down
|
144232
|
"Sometimes things just don’t go as planned. It doesn’t mean anyone is to blame - It just is."
|
144200
|
Grayson Warren is living the American Dream: a 15-year career as a city cop, a great wife and two kids. And then one day his dream turns into a nightmare.
|
144222
|
A single woman should regard every train ride as an opportunity, I once read in one of those “How to Find A Boyfriend” books. “When boarding the train, don't take the first available seat,“ the author advised. “Walk through all the cars…
|
144240
|
like old discarded snake skin,
dry and coarse after the bite...
immortally tortured by broken glass bottles.
|
144275
|
I'm hearing a noise. I can't see it. It's hiding and seems to be coming from the other side of the creek. With boots on I slowly wade across. The water makes its light lapping sounds. Reaching the bank, I search for the noise. It must have a face, suntanned and warm, that I…
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