Matchbox-Dan

Part 2 As he slept, he felt a longing for that feeling, he tried to think of ways to live it again, to keep living it, to keep living it with her. He wove elaborate plans for building huts, then mansions, then fortresses. But none of them seemed good enough, each was crumpled with frustration, and mentally incinerated. He woke, but he did not stop his planning. His eyes remained closed, his thought became more clear and efficient now that he was awake. He lay there, deep in thought, his mind driven by a single idea he did not dare to acknowledge. Suddenly, he noticed the cold. His eyes opened, to look up into the pale sky, in which the su

Part 1 "How high do you think we are?" she whispered. She was on all fours, and holding on to the icy ledge that her gloves had stuck to, leaning as far as she could to get as full a view as possible of what was laid out beneath her. "I'm not sure." he mumbled distractedly. He was trying desperately to untangle the tangled mass of rope he had in his backpack with his stiffened frozen fingers. He threw it down in disgust, and looked up. "Jesus , what are you doing?" he yelled. He ran over and grabbed her coat, trying to pull her away from the edge. She held on firmly, and as he pulled, his feet slipped forward on the loose snow, and he sat

I'm walking up the hill I walk up every day to get home. It's steep and tiring, and it is always a task that I like to distract my mind from. I have walked up it so many times that diverting my thoughts from the mind-numbing journey is easy enough. I entertain myself with the best my imagination can offer. Stories I intend to write get built up I'm my head to be immediately forgotten, elaborate plans are concocted that are never put into place, and lofty aspirations are formed that inevitably crush my confidence in my own abilities from their lack of completion. I pace mechanically onward, drowned in my own thoughts, paying little attention

The fog rolled over the Atlantic waters and onto British docks, concealing the feet of the crowd who pushed and squirmed to see the dark silhouette of the ship that was ready to change history. I was the last to step on the sturdy deck, the gangplank falling behind me due to the clumsiness of the dock worker, into the sea, quickly concealed by the mists. I turned to last look at England, the country whose trust rested upon me and my companions. The crowd varied, some cried for the ones they might never see again, but most cheered and waved. I could not help but feeling restless, as many were wearing black alone, seemingly a foreboding of thin

I close my eyes, and breathe slowly. There is no better feeling than this salty, moist wind calmly flowing around my face. I open them again, and look around at the vast surrounding plain of water. I look down, and can barely make out soft, dim shapes in the ocean below. Soon, they will make sense. I jump, and I welcome the rush of the upcoming and greeting water. I plunge below the surface, my descent, rapid at first, but beginning to slow. I position myself from a diving, to swimming position, my head pointed towards the bottom, and begin to kick my legs. I begin to make out the shapes, their form becomes, more clear and detailed. I see

I sit, in the defendant's chair. They watch me hungrily, tearing me apart with their eyes. The attorneys argue, the defense purposefully keeps his debate feeble, the prosecution brushing away each meaningless point. The judge barely listens to them, he stares at me coldly. I see none of our previous friendship in his eyes. The prosecution objects to the defenses statement, and points out a contradiction. The crowd cheers. I look at him, the man who effortlessly convicts me of crime after crime, none of which I am responsible for. He does not want change in his world, no he fears it. He believes he is a hero in each conviction, that by gettin

    You know, being an atheist is hard. Being an atheist writing for a book about the afterlife, that's harder. But seeing most of these chapters are from the religious, I thought I'd put my two cents in.   If you don't believe in a god, where are you if you die? You're just a corpse, or ashes in a jar. Just think of that. All the thoughts that could have been, all the dreams unfulfilled... and you don't even know what happens to the other people in life.   That's my dream.  If I must die, then I would want to keep an eye on the world, but without emotions to get in the way. I would be able to watch earth's finest moments, and deepest m

Adam opened his eyes. He saw a ceiling. It might have been white once, but now it was yellow and flaky. He closed his eyes again. Five minutes later, the most ear-wrenching, god awful sound he had ever heard came from the general vicinity of his front door. He kept his eyes closed. After another five minutes, he rolled of his couch, painfully detaching from where he had stuck to the fake, crusty leather. He lifted himself with his arms, collapsed, and tried again successfully. He then stumbled toward the kitchen, and hit his head on the door; probably due to the fact his eyes were still closed. He opened them, and was immediately blinde

Ever since Hillium Jillium (Hill for short) was small, he was different, in that he wanted everyone to be happy. He didn't care about what enjoyment he got from other peoples happiness, but only saw the result from their view. He was the first and last being to be utterly unselfish. In evolution's eyes, he was a fluke. Unfortunately for Hill, he lived in a near future where no one was really happy, partly because a recently developed virus had killed three-fourths of them (Who, coincidentally, was considered quite progressive in evolution's eye), but mostly because everyone realized that nobody had ever really cared about anyone else at all.