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in the middle of the morning dew, the indian chief ordered Pocahontas to gather seeds for the garden. Her hands were the most fertile of all and her countenance was beautiful. Brown skin with the tears of a conquered race that will never be a virgin again thanks to the creation of Yakub.
By Ian Bunn URL on 02.03.2012
Chiefly, the chief of thieves tinkers and thinks.
By Marianne URL on 02.03.2012
Der Chef sitzt in einem Ledersessel. Er hat ein makellos gebügeltes Hemd an, das er am Abend zuvor aus der Reinigung geholt hat. Er lässt waschen, er lässt liefern, er lässt andere die Probleme lösen. Wenn sie das nicht tun, wird er puterrot im Gesicht. Er platzt fast, kann nicht mehr atmen und sein Hemd bekommt Schweißflecken.
By Eli URL on 02.03.2012
There is a chief at the fire department. There are chiefs of Native American tribes. There is a chief of police.
By Damaris URL on 02.03.2012
“We received a call from the Captain. Outlook not so good.”
“Why, what’s the problem?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Nasty little creatures. They’re all over the place.”
“Where do we start? Texas? Hong Kong? London?”
“You said it was an invasion!”
“Yes, a home invasion. Termites.”
“Chief? Chief? Are you there?”
By Belinda Roddie URL on 02.03.2012
my chief concern was her safety… would he really take care of her, feed her, bath her, omg, what if she missed the bathroom – would he really know how to handle her, or would he, as he was so apt to do, say something that would make her feel small and not important
By robineh on 02.03.2012
By Pk125 on 02.03.2012
A Chief is in charge. blah blah blah blah blah ………………….
By Shadow URL on 02.03.2012
He made his way slowly down the deck and looked out onto the ocean. The clouds were dark as a storm brewed, rocking the ship violently. Squinting, he could just about see land in the distance behind the thick fog. Today would be the day that they finally moved forward but he couldn’t deny the fear that was creeping up inside of him. What would be waiting for them when they arrived? Yes, they would finally move away from their mediocre lives and obtain something more but how many lives would need to be sacrificed as payment?
By VanessaTechlan URL on 02.03.2012
The man strolled down the main road. He had never been one for cheesy sayings, but today all he could think about was that being chief wasn’t easy, and it certainly didn’t look as if it would be getting any easier soon. For now, all he had to look forward to was getting home and sitting in silence…
By Jessica G on 02.03.2012
Chief was for a short time in my youth the name to be called. I’m not sure why. It seems to me that people groped around blindly searching for a suitable replacement for dude. Chief fell woefully short and dude eventually found it’s way back into favor.
By Kellie Spreitzer on 02.03.2012
The window was more grease than glass
more cracked than clear
he’d peer through it like the red-light walker
he was, baulking at the eyes piercing back
relaxed and ready
a price perched on a tongue
Money made him the boss
no loss in value or victory
a vindication of his right
to choose the colour, the size, the position
By gsk URL on 02.03.2012
The Chief of Police was not happy. Things had been getting sloppy, and he was not at the point in his life where he could deal with such things. He just didn’t have the energy to make things better.
By kibi URL on 02.03.2012
but this time it’s different.
sitting at the dining room table by yourself, eating salad straight out of the bag, looking up for the first time in maybe three or four bites, and there is your calico, looking back at you, young paws but graying whiskers.
and it feels like looking into the eyes of a tiger, not just one at the zoo, but one in africa, roaming, one that has seen you and is consciously sparing your life, and for this, giving you a greater gift than god ever has, and you, afraid to break away from
(how many people are ever granted the beauty of observing the details that lie in cat eyes?)
so intense for you, and so lazy for her,
sitting on your table just across from you,
a burning closeness, at that, obscenely intimate, or some kind of power that is unwarranted, because
a wandering jay has brought your cat’s attention back to beyond the windows
(and just like that, a cat again)
By robyn URL on 02.03.2012
Chief. Ho haa. Broo haa haa. Brinny hinny whinny whatever. I’ll just call you Bree. Chief BREE. No, that’s not cool. Chief of Keys. Chief is an active class I think. I have no idea what keys means. Maybe guns.
By Ellie URL on 02.03.2012
“What would you like to do, Chief?”
“Whatever you want to do, Princess.”
By Laurie R. URL on 02.03.2012
When I sleep I am the chief of my tribe, I teach, I listen, I experience new things. I am one with my people.
By Peter Smoke on 02.03.2012
I think of an indian chief wearing a big colorful head dress. He is the leader of his tribe. He makes a lot of noise so people always know when he is around.
By Kandi URL on 02.03.2012
Big Chief Steve
We had a summer carnival type of thing at my day camp when I was very little. About 4 to 6 years old. I can’t remember the name of the carnival. I want to say “Color Wars” but I think that was something different involving competitions. This was like a carnival or fair. We got a certain amount of “Wampum” (different colored paper that represented money) each day, and we could earn extra by winning certain sports or games or doing well in our activities at camp. Then we could use our wampum to play games at the carnival.
I remember we called the head of the camp “Big Chief Steve.”
I also remember a kid saying their parent took their wampum to work and copied a whole bunch of extras onto colored paper using the office’s machine (- Basically printed a bunch of fake money for their kid!) So that kid was then super rich in wampum and could do whatever they wanted. Smart parent ;)
By Noisy Quiet URL on 02.03.2012
“May I speak to the chef?”
“He is not here.”
“Who is cooking my food?”
“One of the waiters.”
“Well, I think he cooks better than the normal chef.”
By jennybis URL on 02.03.2012
The chief reason why it’s hard to accomplish my goals is probably that there are too many of them. The scatter gun approach is not working, baby.
By lil_nail URL on 02.03.2012
Oh, big Indian Chief! Did you watch the old movies from the 50’s too? Sweet lord we do not live in the dark ages any more, and didn’t you know that is very rude? Well, please accept this letter as a sign of my resignation.
By Seansj URL on 02.03.2012
Mycroft glowered at the front page of the morning’s paper, his brother glowering back at him from under that ridiculous deerstalker. The focus of the older Holmes’ attention, however, was the pepper-haired Detective Inspector, with the Cheif of Police hovering over him, wearing an expression not unlike Mycroft’s.
The tired old government official was reminded once again oof his suspicions of corruption in the higher ranks of the police. Perhaps Greg would be able to provide some insight. Mycroft looked forward to the meeting.
By floppybelly URL on 02.03.2012
It’s what we all want to be, right? We all want to lead the way, do something different, be somebody. Then it slips away.Slowly in the beginning, you don’t see it happening. There’s the initial feeling of “I hadn’t planned this life, but there’s plenty of time left”. But there isn’t plenty of time. There’s so little time. And then it’s gone.Like it was never even there in the beggining.
By lizamajig URL on 02.03.2012
The chief of the thieves raised his hands dramatically in front of his group.
“Tonight, we steal the Goblet of Death and the Elixir of Life!” The thief lord cried out. The small troop of four theives cheered.
By Taylor URL on 02.03.2012
My chief’s a bitch.
By Rose Dacy URL on 02.03.2012
Being a human chief of police in a city filled to the brim with monsters is already stressful enough and Will thinks he’ll probably be dead long before his time. He stomps out a cigarette and turns to look at the poor unlucky bastard who had his heart quite literally taken from him.
By Cassie URL on 02.03.2012
The chief loved the woods. Often he would run through them until he reached the thickest part. Once there, he would just sit and stare at the beauty of it all. To be alone and have that feeling of serenity.
By Raven on 02.03.2012
Our high school’s mascot was a chief. Sequoyah Marching Band of Chiefs, that was us. And we were good. Not the best, but good. And as much as I hated the long practices and putting up with the immature and the annoying and the downright idiotic, I do miss it.
By Julia A. URL on 02.03.2012
Known simply as, “The Chief”, my grandfather had been the Fire Chief in Dunn County for more than twenty years. He had saved just as many lives as cats and was loved by all who knew him. He was a man who commanded attention and demanded affection. A hug from The Chief was like being enveloped in a big, furry, love rug.
By Eileen Maki URL on 02.03.2012
I am the chief of Dope City.
I was given this position by the one that I love.
He stands here beside me, as I used to stand above.
There is only one season around this town and it’s colder than ice.
It freezes you in time, but the world around you keeps living.
You blame yourself a thousand times before even considering forgiving.
White powder falls down from the sky and lands at your feet.
It’s snowing all day long, and it’s snowing while you sleep.
Your dreams are filled with butterflies and happiness from a time before.
The sun was out, and there was no snow, you didn’t even know about this place.
But you had to pay a visit, because you wanted to learn more.
But now all you do is pay, and you’ve stopped keeping score.
You wonder when it will all be over, when this City will be put to rest.
You can’t take it any longer, it’s eating at your soul.
You better run far away, before this city swallows you whole.
By Samantha Rose Schaefer URL on 02.03.2012
Just in time, the chief pulled up in his squad car. “What is this I hear about police brutality?” he said and proceeded to pummel his rookie.
By nenana URL on 02.03.2012
chief with his hairnet on. standing in the back of the kitchen longing for a cigarette. his wisps of feathers stick out the holes of the net and the girls always think he’s greasy even when he’s not. sweat stains and stains are never on his shirts. but it’s that hair sticking up as if in defeat.
By erica on 02.03.2012
I am Indian warrior warrior.
Big chief Indian.
In a teepee.
With my chickadee.
Fight with my enemy.
Big chief Indian.
By Lizzie on 02.03.2012
He wears feathers in his hair
a coyote around his shoulders
and facing north
By mere URL on 02.03.2012
Chief among its features was the startling level of detail. Such intricate sculpting was something, until now, unheard of, but Dr. Gerard’s laser cutting technology was capable of so much more.
By A. Hay URL on 02.03.2012
“I am the chief.”
The boys were continuously bickering over this one statement, back and forth, day and night, til the wee hours of dawn, when their lethargy from fighting prevented them from seeing the beaming lighthouse just beyond the horizon…
By SarahJess on 02.03.2012
The oil slick down 67 coursed through the turnstile and into Chief’s domain. His office walls were splattered. He stood and gave it a wink, the girl at the fore looking him straight outta her lazy eye. “If it’s money you want,” he said, “all I got’s these quarters.” He flung the bag at her feet. Her knees turned black. She ripped it open with her teeth and tested one before retreating, the tiles offering up a sheen brighter than his 30-year badge. He sat back down and sighed. He’d always had a thing for raven-haired beauties.
By RS Bohn URL on 02.03.2012
The chief, she thinks, the chief can solve this. He is the only one that has enough followers, enough power.
By Katie on 02.03.2012
He had risen to his position with a ruthless gaze and unarming charm which, depending on his audience, varied in their proportions. Underneath this cool exterior lay a dragon. From ancient depths, and prehistoric loyalties and divisions, had grown this political juggernaut, steamrollering those in his way with callous disregard, while lifting up those moving in his direction, from the turbulence of his own speed of ambition, and with the weight of tribal self-belief that made him a force that had to be reckoned with.
He would not concede. He would control. He would decide. He would bring death where there is life, if so he chose to. And his new wish to bring life where there was death, would be difficult, but not impossible. Indeed, the scientists working for the state department would be forced to find a way, now he himself was ageing in years. He may have been filled with a sense of arrogant immortality, but a glance in the mirror soon convinced him otherwise. Mirrors did not lie. Unlike the attendants around him.
Charged with the duty of finding a way of preserving their glorious leader, they would come up with a solution, or face the ultimate penalty. not just them, but their families too.
In this way, he hastened his own demise. As the pressure weighed too heavily on the chief scientist in charge of the task, he requested an audience with the great leader to discuss the latest results of their research. His answer was that there was no method known to science of preserving life indefinitely, nor of bringing life back from death, and handed him the sheet of test results to look over for himself.
The leader was unconvinced of the results. “Science is never certain of anything” he replied. And he raised his gun from the coffee table to shoot the scientist – an appropriate reward, he felt, for failure.
As he readied himself to pull the trigger, an action which would take only a fraction of a second, his hand refused to collaborate. He willed it, but it would not move. Uncomfortably, he stared at his hand, and felt his arm also begin to stiffen.
A look of surprise, anger, and growing horror appeared in sequence in his eyes. The chief scientist, who knew very well what was happening. The bodyguards who stood at the far end of the Great Hall of the palace, looked on the scene without moving. To them, they could see nothing unusual. Their leader appeared to be lost in thought, and the scientist was on the other side of the table. They had searched him before he had gone in. No weapons. Searching everyone had become the leader’s latest paranoid insistence, the usual act of a dictator convinced that his grip on the people was weakening, and that usurpation would be at any moment.
The scientist, however, watched, empty, and without emotion. By now, the neurotoxin he had coated the sheet in had penetrated the great leader’s fingers and was working its way steadily up his arms, quickly to the throat muscles, and soon the whole body. After a mere twenty seconds, he would be locked in to his body, unable to move anything of his own will.
“You see” the scientist said in hushed tones, so as not to alert the guards “the great quantity of money you pumped into finding a cure for death, we instead pumped into a different area of research – a drug which would control both body, and mind”.
The leader looked on at the scientist, effervescent with rage, but quite unable to express it.
“For years, you have controlled your people, for better or worse, usually…” he added with a sigh, “for worse. Now it is our turn. We considered killing you. That would have been easy. But it would not have been effective. We could have imprisoned you, but that would not have been so easy, and, well, there is always a chance you might have escaped, or spent your time raging, as you would not get to see, or experience, the horrors of being under your own regime.” He took off his spectacles, and gave them a brief wipe on his white coat before replacing them. He felt it added something to the gravity of the scene.
“The drug we invented, you will be pleased to know, was very, very expensive. It consumed much of the costs of funds you pumped in, so none of your money was wasted. And I think you may, through this, experience life beyond death in a way you would not have done otherwise. It locks you in to your body, and gives us the power to control you…order you about, if you like. And no one would know differently. You will find yourself unable to oppose these orders, and unable to express your own feelings. Your body, my great leader, is no longer yours, but ours. Through us, and the good actions we will cause to occur through you, you will come to experience living in a way you never thought possible.”
The look in the eyes of the leader glittered with denial of the reality, horror at its consequences, and finally settled on a dull resignation when he realised that none of these feelings could he express by shouting, shooting, or generally having his own way. He decided to ride it out, until the drug wore off.
The drug, however, never wore off. The great leader went through a change of heart on the world stage. His actions became bizarrely more benevolent, and some, such as firing his whole cabinet, and having them arrested, while appointing as their replacements, the compendium of scientists, seemed unusual, but within his rights to do. The things he said, the things he did, had seemed out of character for a while, until, eventually, they became normal. the country began to prosper once more, tourists came back, the people grew happier, and the lot of the people improved considerably.
The final grey hairs had fallen from the leader’s head some fifteen years later. Completely bald, and almost ninety, the illness which had threatened to finish him off some years ago had subsided long before, and now it was simple age that had taken its toll. At this fifteen year mark, the signs of the drug began to wear off. One morning, on his way to cabinet meeting, as he had been ordered over the phone, he fet his hand jerkily come to life. As he thought about this unusual occurrence, the other hand did the same. Gradually, feeling began to seep across his body, like a sunrise flowing across the countryside. Unlike fifteen years ago, his body felt more comfortable than he had remembered it being. Warmer, more relaxed. While his previous nature had been one of anger and destruction, he found it difficult to summon those feelings once more. As he stepped from the car, a passer-by in the street paused and paid him a small homage, thanking him for what he had done for the country.
This had happened a lot in recent years, but now he had full control of his body once more, he could not decide what to do. Such spontaneous outbursts never happened before he had had the drug. They felt good.
The chief minister approached. “Let us go inside” said the minister, his tone a mixture of greeting and the necessary order to move.
The leader nodded, and for a moment, paused briefly, leaving the minister feeling slightly alarmed. He had forgotten that fifteen years would be up today. He looked openly, and expectantly, at the leader.
The leader looked into the eyes of the chief minister, the same man who had issued the drug to him all those years ago. The armed bodyguard closed the car door and joined them. He waited equally expectantly for something to happen, watching the two men look at each other in silence. It was as if they were conversing telepathically.
The leader broke this eternal pause with a simple smile, the first he remembered experiencing. This fact alone took him a little by surprise. He reached out his hand to the minister, who in turn reached out his, and they shook hands warmly. The leader nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”
By Gordsthoughts URL on 02.03.2012
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.