Reposted from here. “It’s a nice set up you got here,” Bunger said. “Real nice.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully, and walked around touching things he shouldn’t have been touching. Solomon twitched, but he didn’t say anything. He scurried up behind Bunger, whose oddly long legs had taken him clear across the hydroponic house already.
Reposted from here. Perhaps I found my seed just when I needed it most. It was always a comfort to have it with me because I knew one day I might have to use it. I would reach into my pocket every so often just to feel it in there. I kept it there for
Reposted from here. I’ve carried it with me for years. The seed lives in a locket around my neck. I never take it off. It’s a small thing, so tiny, but it means so much. It represents hope. There has been precious little of that the last few years. First there was the drought. No
Reposted from here. You’re sat on a fortune her fairy godmother foretold the waif of a lass with a slit bare of hair. Took bids from those that wanted her first, although it wasn’t really, she’d done it before and actually just looked really young for her age. She was prompted, stripped of make up.
Reposted from here. The orb glowed blue. Green. Gold. Blue. She giggled, and shook it again. “Tammy, darling, put that down, you don’t know where it’s been.” A voice called from high above her. She frowned, pursed her lips, and put the orb down. Turning on her back, she stared up at the green clouds
Reposted from here. Seed money, he called it. The few coins tossed into the violin case at the start of the day. No, the viola case. He would always correct me on that, and eventually it became our joke. How’s the violin practice going? It’s a viola, and I need as much practice as you
Reposted from here. “In the year 1144… the day of Pentecost, unheard of in our time a horrible portent appeared” Annales Gradicenses et Opatovicenses – Emler, 1875 At the very moment the dark column descended from upon high she was kneeling to pray. Forever afterwards she would rebuke herself, certain that she had somehow raised
Reposted from here. The door sticks, wood swollen from rain. I tug until it’s release prompts an exhalation of creosote and dust. I stand as you did against a bench of rusted tins, bits and bobs, a curation of things kept for just in case. And an envelope, pretty stamp, address from two houses back.