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Dead Lines2:30am FindingReality13: this isn't going to work ElephantPride12: just think about it okay? FindingReality13: you're ridiculous FindingReality13: and stupid FindingReality13: and I really shouldn't listen to anything you have to say ElephantPride12: whatever…you asked ElephantPride12: no need to be a total bitch FindingReality13: I didn't mean it like that 2:45am FindingReality13: I'm sorry okay? ElephantPride12: I don't know why you even ask for my opinion when you're just going to call me an idiot FindingReality13: you're not an idiot ElephantPride12: FindinDead Lines
by ~oh-em-g
The Deliverance of Letters11:59 is such an oppressive minute-withholding the gratification that comes with the arrival of a new day. Waiting, in anticipation, for the florescent glow of digitalized abbreviated weekdays to flip from Thurs to Fri, she ticks seconds off by tapping, gently, the wall next to her bed. Finally, the suspense is over. If it weren't indecent to throw back bed sheets already dressed, she'd be wearing the carefully selected outfit currently draped over the chair next to her door. It lay there, like snakeskin, in need of a body before becoming a part of the night life.The Deliverance of Letters
What had he said, all those month
by ~oh-em-g
For Your Amusement A slick metallic bar coated in droplets separates the public from Tembo, a 9,900-pound elephant and current showcase of the San Diego Zoo’s Elephant Mesa. Her honey brown eyes, guarded by surprisingly lush lashes of the same shade, lazily scan the familiar surroundings. Following her gaze, I see a mildewing bronze plaque on the far side of the exhibit. It explains that Tembo has been here for years since her retirement from the entertainment industry: a brief television career on Born Free followed by permanent captivity. Tembo continues toFor Your Amusement
by ~oh-em-g
The Girl in the Yellow Dress He knew he loved her. His mother had been dragging him to church every Sunday since he was born and Miss Fee Wald was the only thing he’d come to worship. Nothing else mattered on those Sunday mornings. He’d put on the “Sunday best” grey slacks that barely hung on to his slim frame and tuck in the once white short-sleeve, button-down shirt that had had the same tie around the neck as far back as he could remember. He even let his mom comb his unruly hair until he had one of those ridiculous side parts that would get you teased, or worse, at schThe Girl in the Yellow Dress
by ~oh-em-g
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