Comments Posted By Calla
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Ha! She paced back and forth and hoffed and the very idea of the word. Creative my ass. what kind of show are you trying to make of me. I know nothing, I have nothing. I can’t give you want you want! I can;t give you anything! I have nothing in here! It’s a blank void filled with emptiness. There is no substance in this. Hollow hollow hollow right down to the bone. I wish I could prove to you otherwise. But, I can’t. I simply cannot. Stop asking me to give you something out of nothing. Because one day, you will wake up and find it. The broken down, beaten barren shell of my mind, lying on your doorstep, as empty as the day I was born. And you will be terrified.
» Posted By Calla On 07.05.2013 @ 8:14 pm
“Go ahead,” he said. “Open it.”
“Your crazy.” She rolled her eyes. “What do you mean an elephant?”
“I told you. An elephant walked out of the cabinet.”
“A full sized one?”
“No,” he said sarcastically. “A half sized elephant.”
“Whatever,” she said. “Fine, I’ll open it.”
» Posted By Calla On 07.28.2012 @ 5:55 pm
It rumbled. It roared. It sputtered gasoline on the pot-hole filled road. But it worked. It was beautiful. He had gotten up at dawn for over a month and changed a piece of junk his father said would never drive again into a working machine.
» Posted By Calla On 05.15.2012 @ 2:48 pm
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
But he didn’t, he just kept rattling and rattling, explaining why he was right and I was wrong, why I made everything worse.
“I could have married a different girl an
» Posted By Calla On 05.14.2012 @ 8:26 am
“Just until we can get things figured out,” he promised.
“You said that last time.”
“I know I did, but this time I really mean it.” He gave her one last hug and walked out the door.
“You said that last time, too,” she sighed. Down over twenty grand to her dead beat ex-boyfriend, Sierra had promised to put her foot down the next time he asked for money. But his pleading eyes and persuasive confidence forced her to yield.
» Posted By Calla On 05.13.2012 @ 8:56 am
Calla lillies are a type of lilly and i am named for them. I am also named after my aunt cecilia who was apparently very nice and looked a lot like me. Calla also means beautiful is greek. But lillies smell nice
» Posted By Calla On 01.08.2012 @ 5:56 pm
Best time of the year.
When all the animals came out and the leaves were at their prettiest.
Flowers bloomed and looked their prettiest now too.
Yami came up from behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek.
Spring was truly the best~
» Posted By Calla On 10.12.2011 @ 5:46 pm
Calista put her mouth on the straw of her orange juice. She was proud that her mother had finally decided to let her drink out of an open cup. The little girl blew into the straw as hard as she could. The orange juice bubbled and sprayed all over.
» Posted By Calla On 07.11.2011 @ 2:00 pm
He didn’t like sweeping. He saw it more as a woman’s job even though he could easily be placed in that category, the illegitimate son of the head maid. Though there was a rumor that his father was the king. He didn’t see it. He was a spitting image of his mother, or so people said.
» Posted By Calla On 07.08.2011 @ 11:25 am
“How do you like it?” his mother asked. His father stood beside her, anxiously awaiting his response.
Jackson wanted to be grateful, but he couldn’t help it; his lips began to tremble and a tear rolled down his cheek.
“What’s wrong?” asked his father. “You’ve wanted a bike for so long.”
“It’s,” the little boy sobbed. “It’s pink.”
His father hung his head low. He’d been hoping his young son would overlook that it was his cousin Tanya’s hand-me-down bicycle.
“More maroon than pink, Jackie,” his mother said. “And it’s all we could get.”
His father put his hands in his pocket. “I’m sorry, son,” he said. He scratched his head. “Maybe I could figure something out. I guess I could work late a few nights next week.”
Jackson felt a surge of pity for his father. He was willing to work late so his son could have a bike. Jackson felt awful then, like he had taken advantage of his father.
“No, Dad,” he said. He wiped a tear off his face. “I like it.”
» Posted By Calla On 07.07.2011 @ 11:35 pm
My mother lived for forty years, and all she left was a paper crane. If she had to die, I wish that it could have been something else that could stand for her existence – maybe an embroidery sample. But she did not sew.
» Posted By Calla On 07.03.2011 @ 1:29 pm
Morals are simply convention. People can define the word as the wish, but there is no standing definition. While the current thought in the world of morality may be equality and rights for all, morals years ago would have been rights for those deserving and hail to the Catholic church.
» Posted By Calla On 06.26.2011 @ 3:13 pm
When someone says “pretzel”, most people think of the snack. Some poets might relate it to the twists and turns that make up life. Why don’t we leave life as the problematic time in a human’s existence and leave a pretzel as it is – a pretzel.
» Posted By Calla On 05.22.2011 @ 3:29 pm
I had forgotten what it was like to be a child until I opened my mind to the true creative soul within myself and opening my eyes to see it in someone else.
» Posted By Calla On 05.16.2011 @ 9:32 am
She held his hand and kissed his cheek. He bent down and picked the one remaining clover that had survived the recent grass cutting. He moved her hair and placed it behind her ear. He kissed her one last time, wiped a tear from her eye and walked away.
» Posted By Calla On 04.30.2011 @ 6:11 pm
I’m more than half irish and the word clover always makes me think of Ireland. I grew up to the smell of beef stew and the sound of a penny whistle is something I actually enjoy, thoough most don’t. I’ve Irish danced for more than 13 years now. I’m so proud of where I come from. Erin Go Bragh!
» Posted By Calla On 04.30.2011 @ 6:10 pm
In traffic, the intersection is the place through which everyone wants to drive at once. It is only the traffic lights that keeps things regulated. People listen to those lights, those inanimate objects. They listen to them, and save lives. It is funny that with all this war in the world, most disputes are solved by colorful lights.
» Posted By Calla On 04.25.2011 @ 9:08 pm
Digital. All of his life was digital from his wedding tape to pictures of his children when they were young. His wife threw out all of the tapes and CDs because they took up too much space. Everything was kept on a tiny hard drive. All was well. Until the day that the hard drive crashed.
» Posted By Calla On 03.28.2011 @ 11:43 am
Everything in life intertwines. A kid that I will never meet’s existence could have been the cause of mine. How, who knows? But I do believe it happens. If I hadn’t found that penny on the ground, would I have gotten in my car that much sooner, and arrived at the intersection at the right time to be hit by someone running a red light?
» Posted By Calla On 03.24.2011 @ 7:40 pm
There is always a grey lining in the silver cloud. No one is completely good. There is always a “however” somewhere in every aspect of life. Why must it be like that?
» Posted By Calla On 03.23.2011 @ 4:45 pm
Adalyn stood outside of room 406 at the hospital room, pacing. She couldn’t go in there. Her mother was in there. Yes, her own mother was in there, and she had no hair. Once more, she was not breathing on her own. No, she couldn’t enter that room. Her father was there, too. He was crying too hard to even try to hide it from his children. Adalyn looked at the door. She turned the knob. She had to go in there. Her family was there.
» Posted By Calla On 03.22.2011 @ 9:34 pm
You can’t do this, you can’t do that. Does it matter when we’re going to die in the end? Why not break dress code. You’re going to die in the end – why not loosen that tie? But no, because that is against the policy.
» Posted By Calla On 03.21.2011 @ 3:45 pm
Whole is a rare feeling, and one that is rather subjective to what it actually is. Whole, to most, means that nothing is missing. To many, it is when everything seems to be perfect. But when is it ever? While one woman’s husband may be returning from war, another woman’s never will. Whole is impossible.
» Posted By Calla On 03.20.2011 @ 1:16 pm
His arms were rectangles. His elbow was a circle. His face was an oval, and his neck was a square. Addisa looked at the sketch on the canvas. She hadn’t yet started painting, but the shapes already portrayed her father. So many basic shapes made him up as so many basic problems made up the one that led to his death.
» Posted By Calla On 03.19.2011 @ 11:14 am
Go away! Don’t come back! You are not our son, Olivicus. You are no longer our brother. You are not wanted here.
Wanted! Olivicus Williams for shooting ten, killing three. Wanted! Offering ten thousand dollars as reward for his capture, dead or alive.
» Posted By Calla On 03.18.2011 @ 4:49 pm
Gym. The class in which those who were unworthy were weeded out based on primal standards. The kid with the glasses was hit in the face with the cruel dodgeball. The kid who couldn’t climb the rope was teased. Gym was where the strong thrived, and those weakened by society were punished.
» Posted By Calla On 03.17.2011 @ 5:06 pm
Her figure was perfect. Men drooled over it, and other women glowered at her. Her make up was stunning and natural. Her clothes were always in fashion. But she had only a high school degree, and barely that. She did not know the difference between Harry Truman and Abraham Lincoln. She did not know the pledge of allegiance. She did not know how to find x in a simple algebraic problem. But she was beautiful.
» Posted By Calla On 03.16.2011 @ 4:59 pm
All of those girls and women walked on them. I never got it. Heels are just so inconvenient. They are uncomfortable and loud. I don’t understand what makes them attractive, or why women go such lengths to attract men. Shouldn’t the ideal man judge by personality and not beauty of the absence of beauty?
» Posted By Calla On 03.15.2011 @ 7:17 pm
He gazed at the world from the top of the mountain. It was the tallest in the world, in fact. Olivicus, the brave explorer. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need anything. Stepping down from the grassy hill, he started off to the next. As he ran, he heard a voice. Was it an enemy? A call for help? No, it was his mother calling him in for dinner.
» Posted By Calla On 03.14.2011 @ 12:06 pm
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Must a wand be beautiful? In books like Harry Potter, wands are beautifully carved out of precious wood and powered by things like phoenix feathers. Why must wands be pretty when what they can do is not?
» Posted By Calla On 03.14.2011 @ 9:17 am