The kid was quiet for the first several hours after he had picked her up. Obe glanced at her occasionally, particularly when he changed the radio station, looking for a sign that he had found the one she liked. She was quiet, but expressive, and she wrinkled her nose for the first five that he tried. When he found a classic rock channel, she smiled slightly and her shoulders relaxed. She was staring out the window at the endless dusty desert, but he caught her stealing glances back at him several times. Obe was patient, and waited for her to start the conversation.
“I don’t remember how I got out here,” she sa
An Exercise in Existing by mondays-emblem, literature
Literature
An Exercise in Existing
From a shore, you watch.
Eyes dripping, contributing to an ocean as wide as space
and as deep as time.
There must be another side, another edge of this vast bowl.
And there is.
Some days you think you can see it, a haze on the far horizon,
like heat on a sidewalk or the hood of a car. You tilt your head,
eyes slit, watching the wavering lines like dancing brush strokes.
Other days, hazy days, there’s nothing more than the clouds
seeping into the water. One long swoop of grey blue green.
And on those days, with salted air sweeping across your face,
hair tangling like serpents, you can breathe again. Lungs ticking
back to life like
There was this moment, early last May, when I could have glanced up from the book I was reading at the breakfast table.
I could look out my window and see you standing on my lawn, this waif in a windbreaker grinning at a daydream you're probably too old for. I could bring you an umbrella. I could invite you in for coffee, and we could lose the whole day debating questionable Scrabble plays. We could take to the streets after dark and try to find an all-night diner that will feed us both for less than fifteen dollars. I could fall in love with you.
But I don't.
...spring
You go home with nothing but a story about how springtim
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 44 by LegendofFullmetal, literature
Literature
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 44
You finally figure out why he really gives you the creeps.
No, it isn’t because of his height. Nothing about his outer physical appearance, really.
Nor is it his immense power.
Or the memories of your childhood and the fears he rekindles.
No…it’s because, even though you know he’s standing right behind you, he gives off no presence, like most living things do.
Absolute nothingness.
It’s as if you’re standing with your back to a giant void.
It sends that sixth-sense chill down your spine.
And that scares you.
Nevertheless, you don’t try to fight or break away. You need to hear what he has to
Inspector Gadget: An Essay by Manga-in-a-Bottle, literature
Literature
Inspector Gadget: An Essay
Inspector Gadget: Building a Better Hero
Introduction
The media industry has been taken over by the geeks. The rise of the internet has allowed more and more adults to indulge in their love for cartoons, sci-fi and fantasy. This has in turn led to a rise in producers investing in nostalgic franchises, with revivals of classic series such as My Little Pony, The Muppets and Transformers proving to be big hits, and many more in the works.
One of the classic shows due for a revival is Inspector Gadget, with a new series confirmed to début sometime in 2013 . The original show, produced in 1983 by DiC Entertainment, was a major success during it
Once upon a time, a young woman was so in love with books that she decided she wanted to become a writer so she, too, could create loveable stories. She read everything she could about writing. Then, one day, she found herself in a book store where she bumped into an old man among the shelves. Turning to apologize, she discovered it was a venerable, much-loved author.
As soon as she could find her voice to speak, she said, "Oh, sir! I know you are very busy, and so I would just like to ask you one small question: what is the best piece of advice you have for a beginning writer?"
The old man smiled and said, "Certainly, young lady. In fact,
Dear Adolescent Self,
I know, everything sucks and you don't want to hear from some lame-ass old person. Lame-ass old people try to tell you things like this all the time, but they're just stupid old people that can't possibly understand. You don't respect me because I'm not in a band, I don't have black hair, and I don't look awesome. I don't write screamey songs that speak to your weasley black soul, nor am I Tim Burton or Freddie Mercury. I get it, past self. I get it. Frankly, I don't want to hear things from me either most of the time. As lame as I may be, just hear me out for a minute.
There's this thing you should really, really try,