Writing 55 Fiction [PG]

[Annie]

[quote][size=1][color=darkslategray]"You didn't-"

"I know."

The two sit across from each other. Her temper roused in her bare breast, her fists clenched the sheet. His face held no sway of sympathy. He stood to leave the room with his shame.

"I don't believe that you fake-"

"Well, I did..sorry."[/quote][/color][/size]

[Boba Fett]

Shots rang out across the open field. He charged forward, squeezing the trigger. The AK-47 barked loudly, spewing hot lead towards the jeep shooting his men. Their muzzle flashes started to change direction; a grenade flew from his hand and it?s pin hit the muddy ground.

Their bullets caught up to him; the jeep exploded.

[Brasil]

[center][quote][b]?Custard: Part III?[/b][/center]

[left]?Hello, Alan.?[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]?Alex. How??[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]?Digital world, Alan. Think about it.?[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]?Archival back-up...tricky devil.?[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]?Oh, the devil's got nothing on me.?[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]?My shotgun does. Revenge, like a good custard pie, is a dish best served ice-cold. Prepare to die.?[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]?And how can you hurt me with that fish??[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]Alan paused.[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]??trout you to death.?[/left]
[left] [/left]

[left]??shit.?[/quote] [/left]

[left]This is going to get interesting...[/left]

[Azure Rose]

[COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][B]At the End of Summer[/B]

[CENTER]They stared at one another under the falling leaves. The air felt cold.

?Looks like fall?s here,? he said.

?Yeah,? she replied. ?So what?ll you do now??

?I suppose I?ll catch the train to Boston. School starts soon.?

?I guess this is goodbye, then.?

?But, we always knew it would end. We only borrowed heaven.?[/CENTER][/COLOR]

[Fyxe]

[CENTER][SIZE=3][color=silver][b]A Mouth Full[/b][/size]


[size=1]He sucked on the cigarette and let the smoke leak out of the side of his mouth.

"That habit is disgusting." A rich woman's voice said. He looked at her, grunted, and pulled her close to him. He lifted the cigarette again before kissing her. She started sputtering.

"What?!"

"Some... ash... fell... into.... my... mouth!"[/color][/size][/center]

[Annie]

[size=1][color=darkslategray][quote]My heart beat softly, yet with anxiety. My face flushed with a tingling heat. My hands curled up with the rousing flutter in my abdomen.

"This is it.." he whispered.

Then, without warning, we dove into the wind. I screamed, he smiled. Seconds later, the rollercoaster came to an abrupt halt.[/quote]

Haha, you all thought I was makin' a dirty one ~_^ [/color][/size]

[DeadSeraphim]

Custard: Part IV

The sound of the shotgun rocked OtakuBoards. All around members turned to the source of the noise, and swarmed to it, only to gasp in horror.

The Siren lay dead, Alan's shotgun still smoking. Out of his stomach a queer white fluid leaked. Alan dipped his finger into it and tasted.

'Custard,' he spat. 'Figures.'

[BlueYoshi]

[color=darkred]"Yeah, so you got that exam on Friday?" asked Brother.

"Yeah," replied Kas.

"You studied at all, dude?" asked Brother.

"Don't be daft... I've done some revision, of course," answered Kas.

"Worried?" asked Brother.

"A little," replied Kas.

"Good," replied Brother.

"The opportunity cost of me writing this story is me not revising," explained Kas.[/color]

[Drix D'Zanth]

[b]Yardplay[/b]
Tigers lived in those jungles, the young explorer leered. His disheveled hair fell, threading, caked with mud. Low on supplies, water, trapped. Those helpless thoughts of a jungle-fever fell upon his damp brow. He could feel the thick air of the Tiger?s breath. So close.

Then mother beckoned me to supper with an angry finger.

[b]"Sometimes you can be a real cunt"[/b]

His eyes widened and his forehead throbbed. How could he have doubted her? Why couldn?t he of all people have wondered it? He had his chance; the truth serum was still wild within her veins. He shouldn?t have torn Superman out of Clarke Kent.

?He taught you the five-point-palm exploding heart technique??


----------------------
here's some... they are kinda trite, i know, I've not written something creative in a while.

[2010DigitalBoy]

"I like pie!" the annoying squirrel said for the hundreth million time.

"i told you, shut up, you crazy little idiot!" The bunny said in reply.

"I also like cookies!" the squirrel replied.

None of the cute animals in happy forest-ville ever saw the squirrel again.

The bunny never stopped morning about his actions.

[Lady Asphyxia]

[font=Verdana][size=1][QUOTE] [font=Verdana][size=1]They look at her. Some with pity, some with the unmistakable triumph she?s only sensed before, but never seen. She shrugs uncomfortably, looks away from them. ?We just broke up, is all. We?re still friends. It?s not a big deal. I?m over it.? [/size][/font]

[font=Verdana][size=1]One of the triumphant ones smirks. ?Nothing ever goes back to friends.?[/size] [/font]
[/QUOTE]
[font=Verdana][size=1]You know, I never did like custard. :p[/size][/font] [/size][/font]

[2010DigitalBoy]

I stood in line, a quarter in my hand, ready to make the desicion of a lifetime. My friend kept saying "267," but I knew it was 312. I was next in line. I put the quarter in the mans hand and wrote "312" on the paper along with my name. I won the candy.

[Guest Sean]

[SIZE=1]Over the hill they come to greet us. With weapons of torture and devistation. I hear the voice again.
[I]Go Back, Go Back, It Isn?t Worth It[/I]

?Yes it is? I scream to myself. ?My country is worth everything?

And with that I run out screaming, into the apocalypse of myself.[/SIZE]

[Annie]

[size=1][color=darkslategray]I didn't expect I could do this.[/size][/color]

[quote][size=1]"Stop that!"

"I can't-"

"Bullshit!"

He yelled at me and grabbed the blade from my hand. I reached, he slapped.

"This only hurts you. And me," he slashed at his forearm.

I screamed for him to stop. He continued several times more. One for each of mine.

"Does it feel good, does it!? To see pain?"[/size][/quote]

[future girl]

[SIZE=1][center][b]Not Forgotten[/b][/center]

She wondered if he?d remember what today was or if it?d slip his mind like it seemed to happen with most people. It?d be no surprise if it did, nonetheless she hoped. Not that birthdays were special to her, but that she might still be dancing around in his memory meant the world to her. [/SIZE]

[Mitch]

[b]Poemed[/b][G]

The man told him how to write. No other way. Either the poem had meter, rhythm, rhyme, or it wasn't a poem. Juan detested this, it killed his creativity. Imagination. His sense with words. Putting down the pen, he laid his head on the desk. Wrote his poems in his head instead, didn't share.

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[b]What You Sit On[/b][G]

The world had switched its way. Humans were eradicated. Chare, a whicker chair, stands atop the bodies. The furniture had won, glory was theirs. No longer would the humans sit on them, squish them, discomfort them.

"Begin work!" says Chare.

His race of people begin dismembering bodies, making the corpses into furniture.

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[b]Shoe-Tied and Twisted Just an Earth-Bound Misfit I[/b][G]

"Daddy, I can't. I don't wanna," said Franky.

He is trying to tie his shoes for the first time - with trouble.

"Son, c'mere, no - no - hand it over, here - let me show you."

He tries again, fails.

"Oh, son, c'mon! You can do it! Here - I'll show you again. . ."

Franky's making progess. Someday he'll do it.


_______________________________________________________
[b]Phallic[/b][M]

Wanda considered the banana. Its yellow outside holding succulent fruit within. She was trying to pry it open: no luck. Its phallical shape. Freud'd been around, he'd say something, for sure, about this. He would tell her, "You have trouble getting in mens' pants." It was probably true. Eventually she bit it, and it opened.

________________________________________________________
[b]Just Holes[/b][T]

"I don't wanna see anymore, do it," says Lisa. "I'm tired of seeing. Being blind will let me really see."

"Whatever you want, lady," says Jim. "Jus' gimme the money."

A suitcase heavy with bills is thrown. Jim begins feeding her laughing gas.

"Nighty-nighty lady," he says. "When ya wake up, no eyes. Jus' holes."

_________________________________________________________
[b]Whizzing[/b][T]
God called in sick today. Common cold. He was a-hacking and a-couging all over the damn place, so God found a random bloke to watch over things. That's me, Bob.

I've managed to really jinx things up. I took a piss, a real big whizz in the Pacific Ocean. Flooded so many countries I can't see right.

__________________________________________________________
[b]Time's Hands[/b][M]

Time was being a bitch to John. 88 years old, he was a wrinkled piece of shit. Time had put his hands all over this man, loosed his skin, given him hell. John stared at the clock, watched the goddamn hands move. It beckoned him. [i] "Ready to die, fuckface?"[/i] Driving him mad. [i] "Ready to die?"[/i]

__________________________________________________________
[b]Painful Happy Face[/b][T]

The painful happy face greeted Ronaldo. Wal-mart it was if ever. He stepped in. His pocket was full of money. In his other pocket lay the lighter.

An old lady handed out stickers. He took out his lighter, set the flame. "Wanna mess with me?" he said. "I'm a pyro."

"Oh dear lord!" she said.

__________________________________________________________
[b]Daintress Dead[/b][M]

Sylvia walks home from a friend's late at night. An attractive woman, she walks in that dainty way. She carries a purple purse.

Landers drives home from the bar. 5 o'clock shadow, slurred vision, blaring music. He's speeding. But he sees her crossing the street.

Landers wants her, tries to stop, hits the gas.

THUNK.

____________________________________________________________
[b]Ingested Creation[/b][T]

The world was bent from its corners, torn and pried. Unwrapped and eaten like a twinkie. God was hungry, sick of His creations. He'd let them out into this world of His, He could take them back in. He shoved them all in His mouth, ate the entire earth. The stomach ache was coming.

____________________________________________________________
[b]The Android[/b][T]

Alavov stood, admired. The creation was finished. It stood before him, the perfect synthesis of organic and mechanical. Of human and machine. He pushed the on switch on his control panel. A whir. Light flooded into its eyes. It moves. "Yes, yes, this is it!" he yelled.

A fizzle. Flames. The android falls over, a dud.

___________________________________________________________
[b]Hard Silence[/b][T]

We hug. He's too tense. But, that's the way he is. "I haven't seen you forever," I say.

"Yeah." He looks tired. "It's been hard."

I crane my neck. "Hard?"

"Hard."

I nod.

Silence.

". . .How's college?"

"It's all right." He looks at the ground, kicks his foot. "I'll see you later, mom."

He turns. Disappears.

___________________________________________________________
[b]Sound of Night[/b][T]

The grasshoppers. The sound of night. Deborah stood. Her eyes were open but unseeing. Her head was out the window.

"The sound of night," she says. She breathes in deeply. She conjures up images of what the night might look like.

She feels alone. The chirping lulls her. She falls asleep, head on window-sill.

____________________________________________________________
[b]You're Dead[/b][M]

Death is breathing on you. "I'm breathing, on you." He's coming for you. "I'm coming." You're running. Stop.

You fall in hay, beside the barn. Your eyes are wide afraid. Too late for you. "It's too late." Give up. Give up!

You're sliced, you're diced, you're cut, lacerated, decayed. Gone, extinguished, extinct. Thanks for living.

_____________________________________________________________
[b]He'd Say[/b][T]

He was beautiful. On the outside. Inside, he was rank with decay.

"You want my love?" he'd say. "You can have it. It'll be a whore's love."

"All's pointless, non-existence is key," he'd say. "Exist is pain, absence of, beauty."

"Love's a dried-up insipid word," he'd say.

He'd say. He still says, somewhere.

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[b]Pissing Angels[/b][M]

The angels had a bathroom break.

"Hey, Cupie! I bet I can piss longer than you!"

"Let's have a go," he said.

The wind was strong, the fight was bitter and long. "Cupie, you're not wussing out, are you?"

"No."

Cupid's stream diminished. "Fuck!" he yelled. Covered his mouth, ashamed.

Below, piss rained. Acid rain.

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[b]Lost Poetics[/b][G]

The poem roamed alive. The steps it trodded faded by. It waved to passing faces on the streets of nowhere. Everyone was sad. Tired. Sick. Gutted to the core. Here the poem stood, beckoning the peoples' hearts. "Understand me," the words cluttered on the page desperately pleaded. "I can numb the pain." But most turned. . .

______________________________________________________________
[b]Welcome to Hell[/b][T]

"Welcome to hell" outside sign reads. Hell is welcoming, isn't it?

No fire here. Maybe every so often (ie, the two towers). No whips but the metaphorical.

At the podium, he's in a devil suit. This isn't Halloween. He's showing his true colors.

"God bless America." His horns horny, all servile pawns're in his hands

_____________________________________________________________
[b]Sprawling Gone[/b][T]

War was pointless to Jack. That's why he went. He figured life was pointless, at least war wasn't dull.

He held the automatic, hid behind bushes. Heart thud-thudding, he gathered up courage. Ran.

A hail of bullets hits him. The pain grasps him, he sprawls to the ground.

The blood tastes warming. He beckons it.

____________________________________________________________
[b]Pig Sty[/b][G]

He throws clothes out of my drawer. "These aren't folded." Some hit me. He throws the covers off my bed. "This isn't made." "You're a lazy slob." "This place is a pig sty."

The story of my life. It's unconfrontable. His voice is always with me. Won't go. I'm never good enough, never will be.

_____________________________________________________________
[b]The Mess that Felt Organized[/b][T]

Adam wrecked his room in self-loathing. He tore down younger pictures of him. Ripped them to shreds. Stomped his measly trophies to junk. Broke the cookoo clock. Threw his bedsheets off. Crumpled the love letter from Betty.

The whole room was a mess. It felt organized. It felt [i]him[/i], and no one else.

______________________________________________________________
[b]Don't Mess with This Woman[/b][T]
A jab in the jaw. Blood wets linoleum floor. He falters back, catches himself. Puts hands in fists, arms up.

He lobs for her head. She dodges, lands punch to his stomach. She breathes heavy. He falls, grasps stomach, lies prostrate.

"Beaten by a woman. Hmph. You'll never try to steal my purse again."

______________________________________________________________
[b]He Didn't Care[/b][T]

He banged his head against the wall till blood oozed out the corners of his skull. He smiled as unconsciousness eased its way. Everything faded. From far away the world was calling him. . .More specifically, a kind old woman who stumbled on him at the street. "What happened!" she was yelling. He didn't care.

_______________________________________________________________
[b]Kibbles and Bits[/b][G]

Lola the dog didn't get humans. They petted her. Why? They'd come up to her and bark. . .but it wasn't barking. It felt like it had meaning. They ate exquisite meals; she got kibbles-and-bits (although she got scraps sometimes). That was why when she came to the pearly gates, God had some explaining.

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[b]American Laugh-off[/b][T]

It was the plastic bag going back and forth, a la [i]American Beauty[/i]*. A stoner's obvious reaction was laughter. We were cracking up, bad.

"Dude, ohmygod, I can't even breathe," Larry said. "Jus' look at it, over there."

People were staring at us. I looked to Larry, the bag, and started laughing again.

*If you have not seen the movie, there is a character who finds beauty in the visual, and captures it on video or with photography. There is a part where he shows a video he'd took of a bag, going back and forth from the wind, on the ground, and he thought that was beautiful. There was music and everything at that part, trying to capture the moment.
_________________________________________________________________
[b]Words Alive[/b][T]

"Ready to die?" the bully said.

[i]Sticks and stones may break my bones. . .[/i]

". . .But words will never hurt me," Shain whispered. He tried to fight it; he was losing - he was giving in, it was too fast.

The word entered his head, and came alive.

Soon he was on the ground, grasping his heart, convulsing.
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[b]The Hole that Got the Star[/b][G]

(Hello,) the Hole said. (I'm here.) (If you want to see me.)

[Hi,] the Star beside it said. [I see you, wouldn't want to be you.]

(Why's that?)

[You're empty. Nothing.]

(This's how I like it. I can suck everything inside me, not feel anything.)

[What's it like?]

(I can show you, if you want.)

_______________________________________________________________
[b]She Canvas[/b][M]

Her legs're spread open like a book. The pages turn, I'm trying reading them. You should never judge a book by its cover, but instead, by its insides.

There's a person within a person deep inside us. A real us. The one who's hiding.

I take out my scalpel. I'm an artist. She's a canvas.

______________________________________________________________
[b]Robotic[/b][G]

Christopher had worked many grim days of his life. Same desk. Same computer. Typing away. It was monotonous.

That was why one weekend, he built a robot out of cardboard. He named it after himself. He spray-painted it metallic. When he was done, he figured this is what he really felt like inside: robotic.

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[b]Weed's Seed[/b][G]

The weed's seed landed on the green grass one summer's day. From it sprang roots which fed on nutrient, which made a dandelion. A time later, it dies, its hairs turning white.

Jessica picks it. "He loves me." Picks. "Loves me not." She keeps picking until, "He loves me not." "Loves me not," she says.

_______________________________________________________________
[b]Spoon It Over[/b][G]

"Spoon it over," Quique said. He owned Park Place. Vern had landed on it.

"Phrase's '[i]Fork[/i] it over.' Git it right." Vern hands him his money. "Take it, ya basterd."

"Maybe I'm a bastard, but this bastard's winning. My turn?"

"Yah yah yah, ya basterd."

Quique rolled. Vern lit a cig. The stress was getting.

_________________________________________________________________
[b]Cocoon Swoon[/b][T]

Wanda was beautiful, she just didn't know it. She was still in her cocoon - that's what it was, had to be.

"I'm ugly." She stares at the mirror. Stares at her hollow confines.

Butterflies were meant to be free. Right now, she was caterpillar in the way of things. This was her cocoon swoon.

_________________________________________________________________
[b]Tex Mex[/b][T]

"You're a bad, bad man for what you done. You gone and done the worstest deeds I ever seen laid on. You're a real son of a gun, Tex."

"Ain't it 'truth?"

"Oh you well bet."

"And now it come down to this."

Tex put his hands on his guns. Harry did the same.

"Draw!"

__________________________________________________________________
[b]Goodbye[/b][T]

Goodbyes souring are gumdrops in your mouth. Goodbyes whispering are hisses.

"Goodbye." Benjamin walked away. [i]Goodbye[/i], such an insufficent word. It tastes longing, sickening, empty.

That goodbye was a harbinger of the inevitable slaughter of my son. Oh, I'm crying. Tears are rain - turn away, don't face me. He's just a numb number.

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[b]My Neck Broken Wood[/b][G]

I'm not depressed. The tired, monochrome, wailing feeling tunes the right note. I'm a guitar the world plays, hand-for-hand, sometimes softly, sometimes crass. You'll hear my music play. If you hear it you'll hear it. If you ignore it you'll ignore it. Far away my strings break. My neck broken wood.

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[b]What He's Thrown Is Better than He Thinks[/b][T]

A garbage full. Crumpled nothings. Letters written the wrong order the wrong time the wrong place. He sits in digs around his head. Pulls off his brain's clothes, prances it around naked. A flopping excuse. One of his neuro synapses must be blocked. Perfection ruins. Flaws are pretty. What's crumpled is probably genius. Too bad.

_____________________________________________________________________
[b]Geraldo Gets Zombied[/b][T]

The zombie was coming for Geraldo. It was moaning as if in orgasm.

"That's right, moan for me baby. I know you want the action."

It did so. It was getting closer.

"Can you believe this perv? I'm sure in orgasm speak he's saying, 'I want your ass.'"

Closer.

"You can't have my ass! Sorry!"
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[b]Fine Swine[/b][T]

The pigs oinked.

"Now who among you," said David, "ate the hens' eggs."

The pigs oinked.

"One of youse gotta fess up!"

The pigs oinked.

"So this's how you're gonna play? Well, I can play."

He took out a shotgun.

"Tell me. Or else."

The pigs oinked.

He grabbed a pig and shot its head

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[b]They Were Never Meant to Get It On[/b][M]

Life and Death were having a little romp. Death was a gaping emanciated hole, Life was a wrestling hopelessness of smacking passion. They necked each other, they kissed each other. Death was quite aroused. Inside his hole he felt an itch. Life shone himself inside. Death moaned. Death hollowly orgasmed, Life sweated away his pain.

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[b]Fessup[/b][G]

"I jus' can't buhlieve," says Gerald. "For how long've we been slaves to the blacks?"

"Since forever," says Ward. "Now ya better hoe. Seer's comin' this way."

Gerald hoed the field. The seer, Angelo, stands, hands on hips. "An' what I jus' heer of yo' tue?"

"Nothin'," they voice in unison.

"I heerd sumthin'. Fessup."

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[b]Was It True?[/b][T]

[i]Forgive them, for they know not what they do.[/i] The second of God's sons sits in an electric chair, a black holder on his head.

[i]My name is Wenton Mallin. I'm the Next Coming.[/i] They don't believe.

Electricity thunders. He rocks back and forth. His eyes're just whites.

It stops. He's dead. Was it true?

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[b]Lungs Might Burst[/b][T]

Sweat falls off face, legs running in place, hands up and down, breath heaving in, heaving out. Dexter ran from it all. The past, present, future, life itself. That was his fear. He runs until his lungs might burst. He finds himself on some interstate to nowhere. The sun is leaving. He collapses. He's leaving.

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[b]It's to a Sand Castle[/b][G]

The sand, the beach, the fun. Fred sifted it through his fingers, shimmering. He took the bucket, plastic shovel, began work.

When he finished, he was the sole owner of an immaculate sand castle in the far-reaches of the Sahara desert. It had sprawling walls, large towers, an atrium. Until dad stepped on it.

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[b]Glass Ball[/b][G]

Everything got bigger and bigger. Atoms, cells, tissues, organs. Humans, Earth, space.

The Maker held the glass ball in his hand. He could see nebulas, novas, planets, galaxies. It was all his own, small, kept in his hand.

He smiled, reached inside, flung a meteorite at a stray planet. The bang amused him. He laughed.

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[b]Boogey Man[/b][T]

The boogey man was gonna get me. I was runnin and runnin. . .everything fades around me. I saw his shadow in back of me. I wasn't gonna stop. He wouldn't get me. Fear was banging.

Suddenly pain flared. My eyes opened and blood was in my hand. I'd hit the wall. I started cryin "Mommy!"

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[b]Wasn't a Cockroach[/b][T]

My absent mind crawls. A spider's web full of dead or dying insects. Exoskeletons of what was. I lost your love because I wasn't a cockroach. I couldn't survive the winter, our winter. Too cold. It cracked my lips, sored my fingers to numbing. Now you're gone, reborn in this hexagonal beehive. I'll heal painfully.

_________________________________________________________________
[b]Winter Keeps Bitching[/b][T]

Softly whispering kisses on summer's dead, wilted bony hands. "I love you." You see her breath. Taking away warm lips touching each other with fingertips. "I love you."

The deep voice of masculinity, "I love you, too." Scrapes away the numb. They hug in serenity forever. Winter keeps bitching. The temperature's negative. Cold is harsh.

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[b]Drowned in Alcohol[/b][T]

Life was boring. You tried to stitch it to the happiness on the wall, but it didn't work.

Everyone was damn bored, so they drowned in alcohol. I just watched as they became less and less human. More and more gone.

It's a slipping feeling.

By the night's end, they had passed out. I hadn't.

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[b]Dying Finger[/b][T]

The dying finger prodded the trigger and pressured it, the gun discharged a bullet which flew its trajectory, flew into the sky. Gravity put its hands around the bullet and it flew down. Landed someplace to be forgotten. The man dying was to be forgotten. The murderer drove, dumped him to the river.
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[b]She[/b][T]

She broke the mirror into shards that were broken flaws too beautiful to be perfection. When she looked at herself in the shards the right way she looked stunning. Perhaps if the shuffled deck of genes she had been dealt were more fortuitous, she would've been beautiful like everyone else. She wasn't. She hated herself.

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[b]He[/b][T]

He stood on the edge of a problem and the beginning of a solution. Each day parts of him were decaying, others augmenting. He was a walking mansion. Hidden rooms, haunting ghosts, renovations. Outside his property were other buildings. Some were for sale. To co-own. He wasn' t up for the game. He felt foundationed.

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[b]Put to Sleep[/b][T]

The dreary drug whispered [i]go to sleep[/i] to her. Her eyes were the heaviest weights she'd ever lifted. They were giving out. She yelped a tiring sigh. She moved her paws slowly back and forth. They stood around her, watching. She couldn't hold any longer. The last sound she heard was crying. She slept. Forever.

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[b]Hypothermia Killed the Santa[/b][T]

Santa landed atop the roof. A jingle of bells, he dismounts from his sleigh. He begins walking to the chimney. Suddenly, his feet slipped from under him. He slid off the roof, and landed with a crash on the ground. He'd broken bones for sure. He lay there all night, died of hypothermia. He was missed.

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[b]Intelligence Kills[/b][T]

The doctors had been giving Randy pills. He was stupid, they said. Inferior. Below intelligence. So they were devolping drugs to increase his intelligence.

After many weeks, he had much improved intelligence. The doctors told him the effects would wear off. Knowing this, Randy tried to overdose on them. His brain swelled and he died.

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[b]Thriving[/b][G]

The sun rose. Day began his dance. Night went to abyss. The sky was a blue ocean. Some planes swam in it. Skyscrapers scraped the world's ceiling. People skittered and scattered. Time counted the doom. Life was eyeing with wonder. When would this all end? It was too good to be true. But it thrived.

[Brasil]

[center][b]?The Monkey on the Typewriter?[/b]
[/center]
[quote]Random phrases?bits and pieces of a paragraph chopped up onto separate lines. Stanzas?when they exist?aren?t linked together in any coherent scheme. The monkey may someday write Shakespeare, but old habits die hard, as will the ape, who still fruitlessly hammers away on the typewriter, totally oblivious to the meaninglessness of his words.[/quote]

[Mitch]

[b]Till Death[/b][G]

Poetry [i]is[/i]. That's all that matters. That it exists, nearly impossible. That it's dying, there is truth.

Poetry is expression. It is not cold calculating math. It is not so easily defined. Flaws are what make everything perfect. Perfection is unattainable. I will not lay down my pen. Now I will use it more. Till death.

[Baron Samedi]

[size=1][b]Enough[/b]

There are wars, subtle wars, wars which people know nothing about. Whether it be the life or death struggle of ants, the macho showdowns of bull elephants, or the verbal sparring of human competitors, mini-wars are all around us.

The question is, are these wars what you want to commit yourself too?

Cease hostilities.

------

:p[/size]

[Brasil]

[center][b]?Living in a Fool?s Paradise?[/b][/center]

[quote]He?s living on an island in an endless sea, secluded from the world, convinced that what he knows now is all he?ll ever need. But then the tidal wave is comin?, and he?ll get swept out to sea, and as the waves crash down, the fool is gonna weep, ?Darn, I can only blame me.?[/quote](I recommend that everyone listen to Jack Johnson's 'Cookie Jar')

[Yoda]

The blade oozed with heat, pressing against his neck. The air humid, uncomfortably so, as was the silence that crackled between gasps of breath. Running a hand over the mirror, he wiped away the condensation formed there. He made sure he was watching as he did this?

?Ah damnit!?

Once again, he?d cut himself shaving.

[Boba Fett]

[color=green]The SUV was only going thirty miles an hour down the winding road. Its inexperienced driver peered out through the windshield and attempted to divine from the fog the path ahead.

A dog emerged from the mist.

He swerved sharply to the right.

As he hit the child, the leash flew from the boy?s hand.[/color]

[future girl]

[size=1][center][b]PreTeen[/b][/center]

He sits horribly, ruining the curviture of his spine while doing nothing at all. His eyes are glossed over and his lips slack and slightly parted, his breath comes in mucussy rasps. Mom pats his hand, smiles, and he snatches it away contorting his face in disgust. He was getting too old already, she thought.

[center][b]Alone Again Or[/b][/center]

Olivia?s hand searched the bed for the warmth of his skin. It was something of an instinctive act, something she did every night. But there was nothing there and she suddenly became aware of how cold the night was. She scrunched up in her favorite fetal position and shut her eyes until she saw stars.

[center][b]Want[/b][/center]

Michael listened to her favorite song. She was probably in bed already, nude like he liked. Maybe she?d gone to bed wishing he were there, just like he couldn?t go to bed wishing she were here. It?s easy to be with the person you can be with. The person you want is always so unatainable.[/size]

[Baron Samedi]

[size=1][b]Indifference[/b]

The man ran down the street, bare feet thudding loudly on the bitumen. Cars and trucks honked their horns as the man sprinted down the median line, the imbeciles in their metal coffins leaning hard on their buzzers, wanting a prize.

The man saw the monsters, but couldn?t tell you, because a truck hit him.
[/size]

[Brasil]

[center][b]?Unmasked in the Fog of War?[/b][/center]

[quote]Click.

?Drop the shit or you?re fucking dead.?

The VietCong replies, ?You American. American soldiers have rule. You can't kill me, because it against rule to shoot man in back.?

The VC hears a faint jingle, then the clink of dog-tags hitting the ground.

?Well, whaddya know...looks like those rules don't exactly apply here.?[/quote]