NotTheTalkativeOne

"Matt! Mattie! Where are you?! Matt!" His mothers voice echoed through his ears. He tried to call out but his lungs were burning from the smoke. Every time he tried to shout he'd end up coughing harshly. He attempted to crawl out of his room, but his leg was trapped under a fallen shelf. "Mattie?!" her voice seemed right next to him. Matt looked up and saw his mother in the doorway. She had a cut across her forehead and her face was spotted black with soot. She ran to Matt and lifted the board off his leg. He could hear her panting. "Your leg is bleeding but I think you'll be okay." He winced as his mother lifted him into her arms. "Where'

     I like things that can't think. Well, not the way we think, anyway. I like creatures who don't try to rationalize things; I suppose that's a better way to say it. The 'lower species' never judge me, never berate me. They love me because of a pat on the head, or a little treat, not because of what I drive, what I wear, or my stance on abortion.     Cats, dogs, they really know what love is all about. People are too damn rigid, if you ask me. They spend all of their time trying to rationalize why they don't like someone, and they forget that you don't need a reason to love, you need a reason not to.     My cat watches me shower, get dre

     I sleep a lot. I wait for the rest of my life to pass by in between empty spaces of dreamless sleep. I spend most of my waking intervals standing over the chess set, the only decoration on the kitchen table, in boxers, pouring the leftover milk from the bottom of the cereal bowl down my throat.     This is the condition the suited stranger finds me in. Milk spills down the curved head of the shiny black bishop. I don't often get guests, even considering the front door is always unlocked and often swings open.     "Hello, friend." His voice is dangerously inviting. His smile is so impenetrable and it doesn't seem to move in the slighte

The night air was cold. Much colder than we had expected and as we sat on the ledge, the chilly air blew my hair into my face. I swept it away and looked down at the traffic; the lights cast by the cars made them look as though they were diamonds trickling down a black, silken blanket. The din of the police sirens and car engines reverberated off the buildings, reaching my ears as one distorted blurb. For once I did not feel nauseous at this dizzying height; my body was obviously becoming used to it. "Why do you do this?" I asked Dave suddenly, not turning to look at him. "Me?" He replied in a deep voice. "I don't know. Just because I can d

~Well, this is it my friends. The last step. We've been through many times together, but I'm afraid all good things must come to an end~     The rope is secured to a large hook in the ceiling. Terezi steps up onto the oak stool. She is ready. ~The noose, so tight. Hours I spent working on the perfect knot, and it has finally been assembled~     Terezi examines the rope. She has created the knot of perfection. Its promise shall be fulfilled.     Standing atop the stool, she slips the rope around her neck, pulling it tight, a perfectly adjusted leash. The chair leans. Her right foot is the first to leave the stool. Terezi is inspired. Th