muh"Muh" was the best attempt at communication she could muster. It was just too hot for anything else. Maybe after she had drained her glass of ice water she could manage a real word. Maybe even two syllables!"Muh," she said, again. Maybe not… She lifted the glass to her cheek and sighed. "Mmmmm…" she continued. "Mmmmmmm…" She moved the glass to her forehead and then drank a few sips. Maybe if she took a cold bath. All she had to do was go across the hall and turn on the water. She lazily placed the glass back on the end table next to her bed, where she was reclining, and watched as the napkin beneath it soaked up the beads of condensation. O
poor ferdinandYou know, I think the real reason Ferdinand was such a jerk was because his name was Ferdinand. A child can't grow up under the enormous strain of being a "Ferdinand" without somehow toughening himself into becoming immune from the incredulous looks and huge guffaws that ensue once he reveals his name as yes, nothing other than the pretentiously soul-crushing fame of Ferdinand-hood. There is no good nickname for Ferdinand, and nor was his middle name, Rupert, any better. Ferdinand Rupert James. A fairly anonymous last name, yes. A last name a boy would have no problem being connected with, especially with such awkward forenames. The problem w
super8Matt's most prized possession was his super eight film projector. He kept it on the floor next to his bed and every night, before he went to sleep, he would smile at it and think of the films he had watched that day. Families in the park, teenagers by the sea, children on ponies at the fair and birthday parties lit only by the glow of candles on a thickly frosted cake.Every morning, when he woke up, he would pat it right before he threw back the blankets and got out of bed to get ready for work. The commute to work was slow and dull, all buildings and pavement and sidewalk, hardly a tree to provide some sort of reminder of life. Buildings a
woodstoveThe fan in our woodstove turned on and I suddenly became drowsy as the grating voices of late night TV suddenly hushed into breaths of warm, dry air. The cat with an abnormally long tail leapt onto the mantle, knocking down a thick green candle, then, scared by her own clumsiness, leapt away again into the dim shadows behind the couch. One thirteen AM.I kicked the loosely crocheted blanket off my feet and reached lazily for the remote, finding the power button with my thumb and watching with relief as the picture was suddenly replaced by black. Bliss. Tiredness is a constant presence when one is an insomniac, but the feeling of sleepiness,
Sta.sh
