the wind blew on the old bard, the old broken shutters flapping back and forth on the stormy niight. the moon was full buit hidden, a wolfs howl could be heard in the distance
A huge gust of wind made her hat fall slowly drifting until it came to a stop in front of the most wanted bachelor in town. Picking it up he stared at it curiously. “That’s mine, thank you.” the woman proclaimed snatching the hat from the surprised young man’s hands. This was a new feeling, no one had ever turned HIM down.
a gust of wind, the smell of espresso and your sad pale green eyes were all i needed to know that i wanted to save you from every demon you’ve ever had hiding inside of you.
As she sat there in the silence of the night she was startled b a gust of wind that swept her long graying hair into the night, swirling it about like ribbons in the wind. It was exhilerating and she leaned her head back to feel the tendrils fall back around her shoulders, face and back. Where had that come from? She kept her eyes closed as she observed the now still air.
i don’t even know what gust is, but i guess it’s pronounced like the german word gast, which means guest, far from the meaning of the word gust, i guess
A gust of wing blew in through the chimney. the howling sounded like a pack of wolves has burst in during the full moon. as papers blew around the room, a rotund young man made feeble attempts to catch them.
Kyle clenched his blood-soaked leg and tried to hobble to the fire station. There was no fire, of course, but it felt like someone had lit a match to his bullet torn thigh. Limping alone in the dark forest, blinded by pain, he began to laugh and cry all at once. Somewhere in the trees, an owl responded.
A gust of wind came in her window knocking off a plant she had sitting on her window sill making her jump. She couldn’t go back to sleep for hours after that, listening to the wind whistling around her old house as if it was singing a lonely song.
You want me to write about the wind. you want me to write about the wind, the one that lifted me off my feet and carried me through Singapore even though I’ve never actually been to Singapore. So I’m not going to write about the wind. I’m going to write about the soft smell of acid creeping through the cracks of the walls inside my head, instead.
He entered the room like a gust of wind. Thank goodness I was prepared. I had my game face on. I was not about to let him take over the evening. Just because he was a guest did not give him permission to act like he came with honors. We were here to celebrate a mutual friends accomplishments not his. Have you ever known someone who always, and I hate using that word, yet it is fair when talking about him, have you ever known a person who always keeps the conversation focused on them, what there doing,where their going, buying, being? That is the man. He has the social skills of a fly just buzzing around the room,greeting and meeting people as if they all wanted to know his story oblivious to the fact that this night was not about him. How to you make someone like that aware of their behavior? And even if I had that answer would I, would it be my place?
the letter brushed past my feet. i hesitated. for a moment, i wanted to allow it to go where the wind intended to take it. but then perhaps it was to me. i bent down to pick it up, anticipation welling up inside me.
A gust of wind took my hat and I watched it flurry and glide. It’d been a gift, a memento from someone who’d told me she knew me better than anyone, knew what fit me. A gust in my life, who’d blown through and taken everything and left destruction, and now the memento was gone.
A gust of wind blasted past them as the Shinkansen sped out of the station. Hidden within it’s roar, and barely noticed by Ohara, was the whizz of a bullet. Ohara saw the puff of smoke as it hit the concrete of the wall ahead of them, and turned to see where it came from. The Niigata officers were already diving for cover, pushing Tricia and Joanne before them. Ohara caught a glimpse of two men, in dark clothing, bolting up the stairs. Two of the detectives rushed after them, while the other two manhandled himself and the girls into a stairwell, screaming into their radios as they did so.
barn*
the wind blew on the old bard, the old broken shutters flapping back and forth on the stormy niight. the moon was full buit hidden, a wolfs howl could be heard in the distance
A huge gust of wind made her hat fall slowly drifting until it came to a stop in front of the most wanted bachelor in town. Picking it up he stared at it curiously. “That’s mine, thank you.” the woman proclaimed snatching the hat from the surprised young man’s hands. This was a new feeling, no one had ever turned HIM down.
a gust of wind, the smell of espresso and your sad pale green eyes were all i needed to know that i wanted to save you from every demon you’ve ever had hiding inside of you.
As she sat there in the silence of the night she was startled b a gust of wind that swept her long graying hair into the night, swirling it about like ribbons in the wind. It was exhilerating and she leaned her head back to feel the tendrils fall back around her shoulders, face and back. Where had that come from? She kept her eyes closed as she observed the now still air.
i don’t even know what gust is, but i guess it’s pronounced like the german word gast, which means guest, far from the meaning of the word gust, i guess
A gust of wind blew down the mountain. It was already hard work, it was freezing cold as-well.
A gust of wing blew in through the chimney. the howling sounded like a pack of wolves has burst in during the full moon. as papers blew around the room, a rotund young man made feeble attempts to catch them.
Kyle clenched his blood-soaked leg and tried to hobble to the fire station. There was no fire, of course, but it felt like someone had lit a match to his bullet torn thigh. Limping alone in the dark forest, blinded by pain, he began to laugh and cry all at once. Somewhere in the trees, an owl responded.
A gust of wind came in her window knocking off a plant she had sitting on her window sill making her jump. She couldn’t go back to sleep for hours after that, listening to the wind whistling around her old house as if it was singing a lonely song.
The wind was gusting so hard that it knocked the swingset over. Fortunately no one was hurt.
You want me to write about the wind. you want me to write about the wind, the one that lifted me off my feet and carried me through Singapore even though I’ve never actually been to Singapore. So I’m not going to write about the wind. I’m going to write about the soft smell of acid creeping through the cracks of the walls inside my head, instead.
Staring into dark
universe rising on
gusts of starwind
He entered the room like a gust of wind. Thank goodness I was prepared. I had my game face on. I was not about to let him take over the evening. Just because he was a guest did not give him permission to act like he came with honors. We were here to celebrate a mutual friends accomplishments not his. Have you ever known someone who always, and I hate using that word, yet it is fair when talking about him, have you ever known a person who always keeps the conversation focused on them, what there doing,where their going, buying, being? That is the man. He has the social skills of a fly just buzzing around the room,greeting and meeting people as if they all wanted to know his story oblivious to the fact that this night was not about him. How to you make someone like that aware of their behavior? And even if I had that answer would I, would it be my place?
the letter brushed past my feet. i hesitated. for a moment, i wanted to allow it to go where the wind intended to take it. but then perhaps it was to me. i bent down to pick it up, anticipation welling up inside me.
A gust of wind took my hat and I watched it flurry and glide. It’d been a gift, a memento from someone who’d told me she knew me better than anyone, knew what fit me. A gust in my life, who’d blown through and taken everything and left destruction, and now the memento was gone.
A gust of wind blasted past them as the Shinkansen sped out of the station. Hidden within it’s roar, and barely noticed by Ohara, was the whizz of a bullet. Ohara saw the puff of smoke as it hit the concrete of the wall ahead of them, and turned to see where it came from. The Niigata officers were already diving for cover, pushing Tricia and Joanne before them. Ohara caught a glimpse of two men, in dark clothing, bolting up the stairs. Two of the detectives rushed after them, while the other two manhandled himself and the girls into a stairwell, screaming into their radios as they did so.