ashleymec7

The Darkness of Yore An Amorphous Tomorrow Lost, I gasp for air

Humans and Humane The differences burn hot How pompous are we?

For how long did my coattail carry that moment? The one that pierced the atmosphere. I jogged dutifully down the street, stopping now and then to let my corgi, Sam, raise his leg or sniff the place that another leg had risen... or his own from moments before. He wasn't too bright. I liked that about him, though. It was a good day when you got to watch a cross-eyed corgi lick peanut butter off its nose. Dogs were like that. Charming, while tasting their privates. Something only they could pull off. Cats were a different thing. You can't smear anything on a cat's nose without some of your blood being mixed in. Even if a nice cat sits on your

(If taking this piece seriously, and found disorientated, please view description for why this get's oddly intense and not humorous.) I was tired beyond the limits of exhaustion from not having the will to go to sleep the previous night, so I had almost been thankful for the teacher's words of, "Heads down, thumbs up!" Seven up. The dumbest, yet most appreciated, game I'll ever play in school. Never during gym class or recess, the sole purpose of this game is to give students a break from studying. Either that, or give the teachers a break from teaching. I needed a break, today. More so than that, I needed the others to relax and stop scre

His eyes grazed a portrait of the woman who wore a ring matching his own. Thoughts of whatever man might have indulged in her that night tainted the ones of pride or hope. The photograph in his dry fingers was of four people, taken five years ago. A woman and three children who wore clothing bought by the money he had made and natural smiles that were born out of a prosperous life. The man placed the photo down, sighing, and found his way out of the dark basement. He sauntered to the kitchen, making a cup of coffee and grasping the newspaper his wife must have brought in earlier, on her way in from work. Listening to the sound of his childre

I found myself by the music room. I knew why. I hated why. I never 'found' myself anywhere. Everything was planned; everything had its own rhythm. I had been spending too much time near a fleshy guitarist with a quick beat and matching heart. My rhythm became shaky, but, oddly enough, I didn't care. I should've cared. I cared how many steps it took to get to work. I cared how many pieces of cereal were in my bowl for breakfast. I cared about the angle of my mugs in the cabinet, how many there were, what color they were, if they were comfortable, and if I greeted them every morning and night. I didn't care now, though, and that probably

I pulled in a cool breath, shifting underneath the shop's awning and away from the vicious rain threatening to rust my precious guitar's strings and tuning pegs. The humidity and drop in temperature was already killing my business, what with my pegs sticking and the customers running for cover and away from the notes already being beaten down by thunder. I hated how rain thinned my wallet, but I loved its rhythm, its beat, its soul. I gave in to the way it silenced the ones bearing its wrath and how all attention flew to its commanding yells that cracked the sky itself. I wonder what kind of god is supposed to make rain. Zeus, right? He must

Cling-cling-cling... cling. I sighed when that unfortunate chime defied my silent chants. I pulled from my counter and walked to the store's door, starting on my right foot and ending on my left after taking nine steps and breathing out on every third. I reached up and hit the small, golden bell hanging above the doorway twice, each calming tinkle lessening the deep wrinkle in my forehead that I remembered failing to hide as a big, blue-eyed blonde with bad rhythm kept brutally cutting the third measures until it felt like my life-span was shortening along with the beat. I looked around my store with an anxious ego. I had only been here a w