a cloudy day

by nick nelson

it was a cloudy day. harold was quite a boy. he had been a boy for a long time. he wanted to stand up to the man. he stood on the street watching the man’s door. he had a piece of paper in his pocket with one word written on it. a car drove past - a red 2006 volvo. harold wanted to laugh, but could only shake his head. the clouds wanted to cry, but could only watch. it was that kind of day. another car drove past - a blue 2015 toyota. the piece of paoer was still in harold’s pocket. he took it out and checked the word on it again. he thought of the woman in the green dress. and the man in the brown hat. and the girl - always the girl. the man’s door opened and a boy walked out on to the street. in a few hours it would be night. who would get the last laugh? on an impulse, harold decided to leave the scene. after so many days of waiting for this moment. he turned and walked away. he took the piece of paper out of his pocket. a car pulled up beside him - a black police car. harold wished it was night. the night that would hide him forever. he got in the car.

lonesome song

by horace p sternwall

in a lonesome graveyard when the moon went behind a cloud i heard my mama call me telling me to make her proud on a lonesome highway with the sheriff on my trail i heard my mama call me telling me i could not fail in a lonesome jail cell i heard the sheriff’s keys a-jangle they took me out to hanging tree and left me there to dangle in the lonesome forest they dug me a lonesome hole no more corn whiskey and no more jelly roll

out in the street

by bofa xesjum

it started to rain. the street was deserted. the word “love” had been chalked on the sidewalk. along with what , to robinson’s eagle eye, seemed to be a crude picture of a woman. the rain began to wash the words and the crude picture away. a girl looked out a window. she saw robinson standing in the street, making no attempt to get out of the rain, and looking down at the word “love” written on the sidewalk. maybe i should have written the word “hate” instead, she thought. a cloud passed over robinson’s brain. i really should get out of the rain, he thought. i could really use a cup of coffee and a couple of cheeseburgers. i wish it was night and i could go home. the girl stayed at the window, watching robinson’s shoulders droop. another man appeared in the street. he looked like he meant business. he strode purposefully through the raindrops toward robinson. nice day, the new man addressed robinson. some people might think so, robinson responded tersely. sarcasm will get you nowhere, the man laughed. robinson took a closer look at his new acquaintance. do you always stand in the rain like this? one of them asked the other. a woman seated at a desk spoke sharply to the girl watching the two men from the window. are you going to stand there looking at the street all afternoon? the street can be interesting sometimes, the girl replied unconcernedly. you need a boy friend, that is what you need. the woman picked a piece of paper up from the desk. here, she said to the girl, this requires your undivided attention.

the report

by fred flynn

the adjutant handed the report across the desk to the director the director read it carefully. finally he put it down on the desk. there does not seen to be anything more to say. no. care for a cigar? i do not mind if i do.

world war 4 - the director's cut

by anonymous

an acrobat a beautiful woman a clown and a desperado were walking down a country road toward a dark highway when a storm came up war was declared all hell broke loose and a bird began to sing nobody even cared then the earth shook johnny came marching home and the truth was revealed at last

dynamite sugar

by bofa xesjum

it is too late now, carrington thought despairingly. even if i somehow make it back to the auditorium, it will be too late to present my paper. the denizens of the great metropolis flowed past him unceasingly. the streets were not so noisy as he had expected, but they were even more filled with people. he had not been able to bring himself to ask any of them the way back to the auditorium. in any case, they might not have known it anyway, or even given him deliberately false directions, because that is what the inhabitants of the great city, as everybody knew, were like. carrington decided to walk down the next dark alley he came to - maybe, just maybe, he would find the auditorium on the other side. it was worth a try - everything else had failed. a dark alley obligingly appeared beside him immediately. he hurriedly walked down it, on the other side of the alley, night seemed to have fallen completely. maybe it was because there were fewer lights. in fact, there was hardly any light, and the city seemed to have vanished. he was on a narrow country road. a low wooden fence ran beside it, and on the other side was - what? water? a pond or still river? or a swamp or bog? carrington could not tell. a single dull light was visible down the road, and carrington headed toward it. he came to a small green building with a door and a large window from which the light he had seen emanated. through the window he could see a thin man behind a counter, with his head down, apparently reading something. the building had no sign he could see. was it a bar? some sort of cafe? there were no vehicles outside, and no gas pumps or charging stations visible. carrington pushed open the door. the man behind the counter did not look up. beneath the counter was a glass case, containing - what? some sort of small cakes or pastries? along one wall was what looked like a pinball machine, with nobody playing it, and against the other what looked like a juke box, with no music emerging from it. there was a small table in a corner beside the door, with a young woman seated at it. she too had her head down, reading a book or magazine or tablet. carrington approached the counter, where the thin man was still engrossed in the thin sheets in front of him - some sort of racing form? but before carrington could address the thin man, he heard a voice behind himself. stephen! carrington turned. the young woman who had been seated at the corner table was facing him. it was cynthia mccarthy! cynthia mccarthy, the receptionist at the emergency clinic at graduate school whom he had loved from afar back in the day. who had always been so polite to him, so polite. the true love of his life. now she was in his arms at last. stephen! you have to help me. of course, cynthia! what do you want me to do? suddenly everything was all right - it all fell away - all the years of solitude at school, the terrible years with noreen, the long slow upward climb through the labyrinth of the institute ... now he and cynthia were together! as it was always meant to be. you have to help me, cynthia repeated. just tell me what i have to do. there is a store about half a mile down the road. with a faded red sign. i want you to go there and buy two pounds of sugar and half a pound of dynamite. then come back and meet me here. carrington was out the door and racing down the dark road. the store with the faded red sign was there, just as cynthia had said, it was even smaller and more dimly lit than the green building where he had found cynthia. there were no goods on display inside, a fat man was seated behind a counter, reading volume three of the letters of h p lovecraft to robert e howard. i need two pounds of sugar and a half pound of dynamite, carrington blurted out without ceremony. the fat man put his book down, sure, no problem. i just need to see to see some i d. of course, carrington replied. he took his wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open. his eye fell on his i d and on his date of birth. then it hit him. he was seventy years old. and cynthia, back at the green building, had not looked a day over twenty-three. something was not right. carrington rushed back to the green building. cynthia was gone. the thin man was still behind the counter, studying his sheets of paper. the young woman who was here - where did she go? the thin man replied without looking up, some guy came along and picked her up. did they say where they were going? no, my friend, and i didn’t ask. i mind my own business. i don’t ask questions.

the seminar

by bofa xesjum

elwood had missed the morning semimar, and no one had seemed to miss him, so he decided he might as well skip the afternoon one too. at the last minute he changed his mind - he would attend, because who knows, he might learn something. what, it would be hard to say. he hurried down the stairs of the residence building, two steps at a time. when he reached the sidewalk, he saw francesca, gabriel, isabella, and jonathan , with their heads together in front of the door of the exposition building across the street. he knew right away they were talking about him. he turmed and went back inside the residence building. as he started back up the stairs, he looked up. i never realized the ceilings in this building were so high, he thought.