Comments Posted By Penny-Anna
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The emblem upon the fluttering flag was a snake, when you looked at it one way, and a bird when you looked at it another. Was it a quirk of the design, that made it shift and move as the flag moved in the wind, or was there something more? In the bright sunlight, on the windiest days, the snake, the bird, looked all but alive and they averted their eyes from it as if it were the sun.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 03.24.2018 @ 9:20 am
I left my baggage on the platform and watched helplessly as it slid, faster and faster, into the distance. The platform drew away behind us, rolling on its smooth wheels away across the plain in search of another town, another train, and there I sat on my hard seat with only the clothes I had on and my hat and a newspaper, and I thought, “well, crumbs.”
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 03.18.2018 @ 1:54 pm
fuck capitalism mate
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 03.12.2018 @ 2:28 pm
Lighter, and lighter, lighter than air. She rose up into the sky, the ground flattening and vanishing beneath her. Eventually the earth would shrink into a blue dot and by then she knew she would be dead. She wasn’t flying, just rising, inexorably, and she thought, ‘I need to remember how to be heavy’.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 03.10.2018 @ 1:20 pm
“Conflict is the best way to build tension in your narrative,” he said. “So go on.”
She looked at the tiny figures on the planet. “But I don’t want to make them fight. People would get hurt.”
“Only very tiny people,” said her teacher. “Do you want to be a planet artist or just a worldbuilder?”
She began to cry. Her teacher smirked.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 03.05.2018 @ 1:48 pm
The skylight was unbroken, which was strange because it was the only window and yet the floor was strewn with broken glass. “How did they get in?” he said.
“More importantly,” I said, “How did they get out?”
The room was empty, but for the broken glass, a chair, a table, and a single indisturbed mug of tea.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 03.04.2018 @ 1:06 pm
It took me a very long time to learn how to tie a bow. The rabbit goes around the tree and down the hole, but which hole? I always got it horribly wrong and it was always a mess. Even now I don’t quite remember how. Thankfully my fingers can always do it. They’re smart that way.
Still can’t tie one without looking, though.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 07.14.2011 @ 3:21 pm
Why is a black board? Why is a board black? So you can write on it in white chalk! It’s a word-reversal riddle. You have to cheat to win. Perhaps the only winning move is not to play at all, but that way you’ll be a prisoner forever.
Nails on a chalkboard one-two-three.
Chalk is made of bones.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 06.04.2011 @ 4:40 pm
The radio was playing in the background. The glow of the street lamps hung over the table like a cloud in the twilight. Insects buzzed and thrummed in the dusk. It was a song, perhaps, or the evening news, we weren’t even listening, too caught up in each other and the atmosphere of it all, but the radio was comforting, stablising, linking us to the world outside of each other, so we let it play.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 06.03.2011 @ 5:14 pm
The limo pulled up outside the house with a smooth rush of engines. I peered at it from behind the net curtains, anxious, waiting to see what would come out, but there was nothing, just the eery black glint of the tinted windows, staring back at me like giant blank eyes. TIt stopped there for a minute or so, engines still running, then drove on, leaving no trace behind, as if it had never been.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 06.02.2011 @ 4:11 pm
I filled my backpack with everything I owned, which came to one book, a toothbrush, and a few shirts – it was a little pathetic, really – before setting out into the unknown of the metropolis. It was a jungle of cars and concrete. I’d hardly been beyond my front door. it was huge and unknown and terrifying, and I already loved it.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 06.01.2011 @ 3:31 pm
I watched the montage of my life flutter before my eyes, like a thousand butterflies, and wondered what the point of it all had been. ‘But it doesn’t have to have a point’, the voice said. ‘It was your life, and it’s over, and we’re showing it to you. That’s what happens’.
‘Is that all death is, then?’ I asked. ‘A montage?’ The voice was silent. “Can’t you do a little better?’
‘Well, if you’ve got so many complaints, perhaps you’d like it better downstairs, hmm?’
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 05.31.2011 @ 5:12 pm
I remember a time when things were different.
I remember a time when things were this same.
I remember this morning, when I woke up
From a dream
Which I don’t remember
I remember years ago when
And I remember when I was a child
I remember when I was happy
And when I was not happy
I remember when I spelled remember ‘rember’
I rember being ten years old.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 05.30.2011 @ 11:34 am
I never did like mint.
Not even in toothpaste.
People would offer me sometimes but I always said no.
We grew the plant in our garden, it actually smelled quite nice
It was very green, very
I remember the leaves were very
That’s what they made toothpaste out of, though.
I don’t see the appeal.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 05.27.2011 @ 2:25 pm
The torch was bright with flames in his hand as he edged his way down the tunnel, the stone steps wet and slippery beneath his feet, water pooling in every dip and groove. It was dark, so dark that all he could see was the fire lighting his way. It was as if the shadows were too dense for it to penetrate further than half an inch or so into the gloom. he had to hold it at arm’s length to see the faintest outline of the ground ahead of him. He began to feel that there was nothing but him and the torch and the feel of the cold stone beneath his feet, as if he would journey on forever into the centre of the earth and out the other side, because there could be no end to the tunnel, nothing, nowhere to reach. Or perhaps he was stuck on a loop like a broken record, the steps going round and round and round in a circle. There was no away to tell. It was too dark to make out any distinguishing features. Nothing except the flame of the torch.
When he looked straight at it the light left searing patterns on his eyeballs, grey flashes every time he blinked. It stung, and his eyes watered, tears seeping down onto his cheeks. He was along beneath the earth, and he didn’t even remember where he was going, only that he couldn’t go back, not ever.
He paused for a moment, feet stumbled and scuffing on the wet ground, that tightened his grip on the torch and kept on going.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 05.25.2011 @ 2:43 pm
I was in the election booth when I was struck by a sudden indecision, my hand wavering over the ballot paper. So many boxes, so many options, and suddenly all the careful research I’d done seemed irrelevent, now that it was all narrowed down to a single cross and a crease. I knew my views, I knew what I wanted, but I was seized with apathy, beccause what did it matter? I was just a man in a little wooden booth in a community centre, standing over a tiny slip of paper with a pencil that didn’t even belong to me, choosing between half a dozen people I’d never even met. It was so silly I had to laugh. The woman in the next booth gave me an odd look, as if to say that I wasn’t taking it seriously enough. I smiled back cheerfully.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 05.24.2011 @ 3:07 pm
Pretzels are swirly.
I think they come with salt on the top
It’s sharp and clear, like little crystals
Must be very expensive, pretzels, with diamonds on top
(I don’t eat pretzels
Probably for the best
The diamonds would break my teeth!)
Swirly swirly dough
Twisted into funny shapes!
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 05.22.2011 @ 1:23 pm
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The thief had stolen the crown jewels. He was feeling very crafty about it. He had taken them straight out of the case without anyone noticing until he was alreayd halfway down the stairs. Because he was a magic, invisible thief, and he could do things like that. The crown jewels were very shiny and all. He’d have to spend them on something very special.
Unfortunately, when he took them into the first shop he came to to buy himself some sweets to celebrate, the shopkeeper took one look at his new money and fainted dead on the floor. The thief shrugged, and decided to just steal all the sweets instead, because he was a thief, and he was good at stealing things.
When he got home, he put the crown jewels away in a cupboard and forgot all about them.
» Posted By Penny-Anna On 05.23.2011 @ 11:42 am