The woman stares across the table anxiously‚ her son quietly staring at his hands beside her‚ the look on her husband’s face anything but pleased. The sun hangs midway over the house in the sky‚ and though it is just about time for dinner‚ no one seems to really want to eat any of the dishes she has prepared. A meat pudding sits untouched in the center of the table as if mocking her growling stomach. The silence is nearly unbearable‚ her feet tingling‚ her son obviously restless as well‚ and she
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While I was strolling on the beachfront‚ I happened upon a bottle under the slowly rolling waves. I picked it up‚ unscrewed the cork cap‚ took out the parchment coiled inside‚ and rolled it out on the fine sand to read the message. It was written in Spanish‚ but my years of education in the Spanish language had allowed me to effectively decipher it. To whomever finds this letter‚ I was one of the sailors aboard the Sanlúcar‚ the Spanish cargo ship that crashed near the shore of this accursed island:
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I awoke on a beach‚ completely soaked‚ with salt water up my nose‚ and sand in every uncomfortable place imaginable. Drenched black hair obscured my sight. Cold sea air chilled my bare back. If I didn’t move soon I would die of hypothermia. I stood on my trembling legs. The cold wind bit at my chest. The sky was dark and it was clear that it would rain soon. Broken boards and scattered crates littered the shore. Clearly I was on some kind of ship‚ but where I was or where I came from was lost to
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The campsite that I visit yearly always seems to surprise me. Last year‚ I visited Bear Creek Camp for the fourth time. When one goes to a camp‚ they can expect to get soaked in mud from head to toe‚ leaving them to scratch off the crusty residue until they are graced with a shower. They can definitely count on the infinite drone of insects‚ keeping them up until the crack of dawn. Above all‚ they can count on something to go wrong. Last year‚ I was greeted at camp with a torrent of rain that
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The air flew past our heads‚ and screams echo through the air. The sun is beating down relentlessly‚ people’s cheeks are tinted red‚ partly from screaming‚ partly from the sun burns that are beginning to take form. Individuals of every age are jammed close together. You can hear them begging for an end to their terror‚ and other are embracing the adrenaline‚ breaking out in hysterical‚ maniacal laughter. Lights flash in front of our faces‚ blinding us. At this point‚ my feet are dangling‚ and I
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The Big Blue Building The big cars were rushing by so fast. They were so loud‚ and I was so scared. I walked down the alley to hide behind the big green metal dumpster with all the rancid smelling trash inside of it. I tucked my tail and tried to stay warm as I hid from the cars and those villainous humans walking past. As it got darker‚ I started to doze off. I tried to stay as awake and on guard as I could‚ but I was just so exhausted. I had been running around all day trying to find a safe place
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I could feel the cold. I could feel it against my crestfallen face. I didn’t know if I was ready‚ ready to never see anything I love ever again. I stepped up into the cockpit of my bomber‚ a Matte Black Avro Lancaster with four propellers at the front. It was huge but it flew well and was hard to see against the backdrop of the dark night sky. It had bombs stored in its metal hull and had guns at either end of it. I made a few swift movements. Flicking controls and pressing buttons‚ instantly
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Nakajima Dental Clinic As bold as a lion‚ I proceed to the building and open the door. I stand at the “genkan‚” to remove my shoes first. (A “genkan” is a traditional Japanese entryway area or entrance hall for a house‚ having the same level to the outside‚ something of a combination of a porch and doormat.) I step up onto the raised floor‚ and again bend down to face my shoes to the door‚ as the custom is‚ and perhaps for a quick exit later‚ if necessary. Adjacent to the wall on my right‚
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I’m sitting on a bench in Christopher Columbus Park. The wooden planks at my back are faded from a combination of sun and sea-breeze‚ and under my fingers are lover’s carvings. Names‚ initials‚ crooked hearts‚ equations that end in forever. The last time I was here‚ I was eighteen. Maybe back then‚ I would have seen the beauty in it all. Right now‚ I pass my fingers over the gouges in the wood and hope I don’t get a splinter. I sigh softly‚ leaning forward and hanging my head. One hand dangles
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Road accidents are reported in newspaper and on television every day. There are more frequently caused by reckless drivers rather than faulty vehicles. Last Saturday‚ while I was travelling from Ipoh‚ I witnessed a serious accident. The scene of the accidents was vivid in my mind. A motorcyclist was following behind was taxi very closely. He was so impatient that he was trying to overtake my taxi even near a sharp bend. At that critical moment‚ there was an oncoming car. The taxi driver
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