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chipped
 
tsevenhuysen
Thomas breathed out a long, slow sigh as he stooped to retrieve his glasses from the sidewalk. One of the lenses was chipped. The chip was near the edge, though, so he could still wear them for now.

Until next time, of course, when something worse might happen.(more)
yummycatt
Nothing ever changes.
It's the same old thing day in and day out and yes, you guessed it, I'm sick of it.
I can close my eyes and walk through my day without looking and still get it all right.
Wake up. Drink tea. Try to write. Drink tea(more)
Anida
hallelujah! the sky is on fire. bright beacon of light finally unearthed, finally the thick goosedown comforter of white fell off the sky. it didn't rain, it didn't sprinkle or drizzle or pour.

one day, like how the weather changes and there's rhyme and reason but we wh(more)
bornwithwings
I have a hard time receiving compliments. The odd thing is a part of me, perhaps the truest part, initially loves praise, really loves  it with party hats and streamers and dancing in monsoon rain. If the praise continues, however, I suffer from frozen face syndrome. I go tundra, arctic(more)
jrblandford
Already feeling like I was there against my will, without a car, and 45 minutes away from my home, it began.  My friend, and ride, and host was in some weird Sunday afternoon hole where all he could do was lie on his couch in a waking state and listen(more)
dlfields
he was tired of the record, and of the bottle, but there was a long night that needed finishing in this manner. there was simply not another thing in the world worth doing, as far as he could determine.

once or twice his sainted mother stuck her old(more)
Trigorin
"They're not clean," she thought.
And it's true enough, they weren't.
"I've got to put them in the wash," she thought.
She did, but it didn't get the blood out.
Caerii
The very first thing I remember, and I mean the very very first, is helping an old woman make up a bed.
I might have been three. Just tall enough to see over the horizon of a big, solid marriage bed, and tug the wrinkles out of t(more)
yummycatt
I'd kill for some clean sheets.
Fresh-out-of-the-dryer soft-cotton bedsheets made of the highest thread count possible.
And one of those foamy pillows that you sink into like those fluffy clouds in childhood pictures of Heaven.
"And a pony," I said to Mal. He just opened his mouth in (more)
SvenDali
Cryptogram

‘Nothing is worse than a writer that writes about writing,’ you once said. ‘And nothing is worse than a writer writing about things he or she knows nothing about,’ you added. ‘And nothing is worse than glorifying aimless drunkenness and insincere ugliness, hiding behind sarcasm. That’s been(more)
LaupNhoj
Past
Future
Hinges rusted
Cold iron black
sealed forever
(more)
Kt
Broken:
Branches
Records
Hearts
Things
(more)
Caerii
It is, when you come to think of it.

A mirror is a tool. Beyond sating vanity, it can be used to start a fire, peer at enemies or pretty girls around corners, or as a platform for chopping powdery drugs.

But I'm not a v(more)
yummycatt
Last time around
I was all-in
wide-eyed wonder
anything is possible and
I'll never grow old
(more)
yummycatt
there's ice in my heart
where there used to be fire
i'm losing my faith