'Why have all prison transports such lousy suspensions?' Jerry thought to himself, as the retro-fitted school bus bounced him around like a bucking bronco. They hadn't even bothered to take the faded, No 26, off the side. He knew the world looked at him as a third-class entity, or even fourth, if there was such … Continue reading Last Sight, By Squid McFinnigan
There is something primal inside me that leads me into a chase. Like when a rabbit darts in front of me as I walk through a park, I always get a little twitch. I have to stop myself from darting after it like a lunatic.
100 Word Story by Stephen Harris
I feel like a potato in a potato sack. Covered in corse, rough, utterly disgusting, Burlap. Perhaps the ugliest material in the word- burlap. I wake up at eight, ride the Number 26 bus to work, get there by nine, and the rest is just an endless stream of burlap. Nine to five, nothing but … Continue reading Burlap Cubicles
I heroically led the charge. Screaming at the top of my lungs as I sprinted towards the oncoming wall of water. Leaping over the tiny smaller waves before it, smashing through them, destroying them, regaining my footing underwater, and charging onwards, my plastic shovel held high up in the air, the sunlight reflecting off the red plastic. I could hear the ranks of the shell army cheering behind me as I led the charge.
The last stop along the Number 26 bus line lies just on the edge of town, near a cliff ledge looking out over the ocean. If you happen to want to get off here, you have to ring the bell not to stop the bus, but to tell the driver to keep going on. The … Continue reading The Lighthouse
Nothing makes me feel more present, more in the moment, than winter. The cold is a constant reminder that I’m still alive- that I’m still cold. That I’m a living thing that can be cold. The wind shoots right through me, bounces and ricochets against the bones in my rib cage, and seeps out … Continue reading Winter Evergreens