Comments Posted By Maryannerose
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Nothing keeps my interest long, it’s all shiny and new in the beginning but sure enough it melts away, and like smoke under my fingernails, wisps itself out like a candle in a quiet shove of wind
» Posted By Maryannerose On 11.03.2012 @ 4:31 pm
There was a nervous air around the table as the various diplomats shifted their bottoms in their seats and their eyes at their fellow foreign table mates, all there to discuss the same problem. The Geneva Convention- this event was supposed to go down in history, however if any one person with an ordinary job were to stand in the room with those men at that moment, they would’ve felt anything but humbled; with one diplomat stealing the fancy ballpoint pen and another one thinking about an escort he’d left sullen and angry in a hurry.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 06.05.2012 @ 3:37 pm
There was a jade cap over the filmy net, and as the fish gasped and flopped about on the floor of the boat, I walked myself around and around the circumference of the entrapment, feeling enormous and strange
» Posted By Maryannerose On 06.03.2012 @ 2:04 pm
It was a necessity to chop the old oak tree down, the sheriff had told me. I remember a time when I would have begged for him to leave it alone, but when he told me this now, I only nodded and smiled, exchanged niceties and left, segmented and confused at my own wicked whimsy ways. I could only conclude that the oak tree was evil, and that’s why I didn’t want it to be saved.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 06.02.2012 @ 4:45 pm
There were pins sticking out of her head. Slowly, gingerly, she removed them, plucking them out as if she were plucking out hair. The tubes in her arms could be left for later. Same for the heavy weights attached to her earlobes, the microphones that could hear changes as slight as an elevated heartbeat; anything to indicate she had woken up from her forbidden slumber. The first thing to do, though, was remove the pins. So, that’s what she set about doing.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 04.09.2012 @ 2:32 pm
Such a deafening silence, I’m surprised that my powers can even make a splash in the pond of the large ocean that is her ear; ripple towards her brain, making resonance with the sweet sound of her ear and her lips, vibrating and pretending as pretendings hastened their pace, whilst making it all beautiful in the end
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.30.2012 @ 12:46 am
The trunk was heavy and glossy, and the wood had that malleable quality where when Susanna stuck her nails ever so softly into the varnish, a little bit of the gunk came up and stuck itself right back into her. It smelled a little bitter, but she didn’t mind that one bit. The trunk said, “Don’t come near me, I’m a strange thing,” but Susanna had always preferred the strange things anyway.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.22.2012 @ 12:23 pm
I was gently holding my broken toy, cradling it’s head that was limply lying a few inches below it’s shoulders, as if it had been knocked backwards by a strong gust of wind and simply didn’t have the strength at that moment to resist it. The eyes stared lazily up at me and I looked at the seams, fiddling with my fretting fingers and flexing my weighted palm, trying to discern my next course of action for my poor, broken friend.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.21.2012 @ 8:56 pm
The films ratings were insane. One critic would give it 5 shiny gold stars out of 5, when another one would be berating it and declaring it as the worst film of all time. There was simply no in between, and as I watched the newspapers be delivered and as I saw the many pages dedicated to understanding or appreciate my film, I began to feel more and more unhappy that I had started in the first place.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.20.2012 @ 11:24 am
The beauty pageant had the girls arranged in such a way that it reminded Charlie of a confectionary; the rainbows of their dresses and thick scent of their hairspray which wafted through the air and successfully submerged everybody in a slightly dazed and drugged, but happy, complexion- the various scents of “rain” and “vanilla” mixing in with the gentle, shimmering facial powder that seemed to settle over the girls like a soft snowfall, or ash, falling from the sky.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.19.2012 @ 3:58 pm
I lit up the torch and sat on the cliff, gazing over the waterbed. I was angry and starving, my stomach a cave, turning into itself, and churning itself out over the rocky slopes and down towards the rapids, where I could see salmon gasping and smacking their small bones against the rocks.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.18.2012 @ 1:23 pm
There were pastels in the river. Her mother had emptied them out into the river when she caught her drawing with them. Her father had not stopped her. And now, all of the beautiful colours ran together. She could see where they individually started, and then track their progress downstream as they slowly dissolved into a muddy, opaque sort of ordeal.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.16.2012 @ 11:12 am
The pattern on the skyline was rusty and opalescent, and her hands shook as she traced the outlines of the clouds with her index finger, looking for the smoke rings and the trail of space between suspended water that the bomb had cut through like a sword cutting through butter. The air was getting hotter and she knew it was only a matter of time.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.15.2012 @ 12:31 pm
There was a small spot underneath the sun and she sat there during her stay. She never moved once. Only did her eyelashes sometimes tremble with the breeze, much like how a butterfly would alight upon a flower, only to flutter away in heartbeats. The shade was too cold and the grass was too soft. The small spot in the sun was all that was left, so that was where she stayed.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.15.2012 @ 12:25 am
Joe hated petitions. He had gone door to door for the past three hours, getting people to sign this stupid petition for this girlfriend’s cause. Something about polar bears or trees, he wasn’t sure. At any rate, he needed another 500 signatures by the end of the day, and the end of the day for him was 5:30. That’s when Laura would stop by. Good news, no one had turned him down for signing. Bad news: it was 4:30.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.13.2012 @ 9:40 pm
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She felt a little used, a little tired. The human, recycled. Upcycled, renewable, neverending resource- that was her. She didn’t know it now, but she was causing more harm than good.
» Posted By Maryannerose On 03.12.2012 @ 1:09 am