The actors finish and leave the stage. There is a smattering of applause from the half-full theater, and the actors just keep walking. In full costume out the back door into the street and home. The applause intensifies in the theater, the audience attempting to call them back, to restart the action of the stage.
They will clap all night, but no one is there to hear them. The stage door stands open to the alley, empty.
He’s always been a ringleader, ever since he was a kid and he convinced a group of kids that trick-or-treating would be more lucrative in July because other kids wouldn’t be out competing for candy.
(Ed. note – I feel like this is a really dumb idea, but it’s come up a couple of times today, so I’m going to throw it out there and let you tear it apart if you want)
The whole point of the game is to hit the ball so far that they can’t get it back and throw it at you again.
There has to be a good story idea in this.
The person who has these keys in her pocket, she’s almost a superhero, almost a guardian, she’s something that’s worth a story.
I’m having trouble getting a concrete idea from it though.
Ancient buildings are discovered, that have no doors, no windows, no obvious means of entrance or egress.
It’s there a difference between these structures and stones?
Keeping time in a story through ants consumption of a forgotten meal.
Sometimes I read something that fits so well, that I am disheartened that I won’t get to write this, because someone else already did.
Shards of a Public Dream, by Joe Kraus
They were cleaning a spotless floor, insisting that they watched the flowers explode all over the room, violent deaths sending petal, stamen, pistil, pollen to the floor in a fine dust.
i believe i know which will be fastest. but i’m testing it, there are so many factors. i may be missing something.
but he’s not. deep within those sunburned eye sockets, far behind the balls, he’s figured it out. the tests are merely for the thrill of affirmation.
”a place 4 higher beings”
A man who will be great (or terrible). Described solely in terms of the monument that will be constructed in his honor, or in the memorials of those who opposed him.
A wallflower. Lonely and horny, caught in the thrall of various bodies at this party. It’s a helpless arousal, an impotent erection.
The end of the world is predicted. Go alone? Disbelieve? Party? At the appointed time, the Earth disappears. Everyone left behind in a very non-biblical way. Stuck in space, unable to move, watching the moon, free of our gravity, fall toward the sun.
I check into the hotel where terrible things happen.
There isn’t even a room key.
You just take the elevator and close your eyes.
”room 512” by Molly Dorozenski