Comments Posted By Rolo
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he carved up the turkey, throwing the slices to each of the plates stuck out. As the meat slapped the china, the face scrunched and the arm withdrew, placing the plate down. They sat silent, hands on their laps til they were told they could help themselves to vegetables. They were never told.
» Posted By Rolo On 12.26.2011 @ 1:36 pm
It was boiling. The lads sat outside, discussing the women as they walked past, cheering as the wind blew slightly, making their skirts do a Marilyn. Jeff pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. The others looked at him in disgust. “When did you start to smoke, Jeff mate?”
» Posted By rolo On 08.02.2011 @ 3:58 pm
He spread his wings and let himself just float upwards into the blank sky. His feet clawed for the ground. They still weren’t used to being free from it. He passed birds who all gave him weird looks, feeling uncomfortable that something they always saw attached to the ground was now airborne.
» Posted By rolo On 07.31.2011 @ 11:23 am
Amuse me. Play with my heart. Make it dance, and sing and maybe do some kind of self-help thing, where it doesn’t have to depend on your fingers to bend it into shape.
Take away the ropes that you have tied around it and scratch the words off the walls that say I can’t cope without you.
» Posted By rolo On 07.28.2011 @ 12:26 pm
The thunder burnt through their heads, and she couldn’t hold onto the railings anymore.
» Posted By rolo On 07.26.2011 @ 3:37 pm
That was the ticket.
It flew off into the wind, swirling up over rooftops, across gardens, and finally settling on the Waldorf’s front porch. My waldorf saw it first as he walked up to the door on his way home from work, swishing his business suit out the way so he could try and find his keys in his pocket.
» Posted By rolo On 07.22.2011 @ 4:23 pm
Her cheeks rose to the colour of violet, matching the patches on her arm. She ducked, hoping to avoid being the centre of conversation in the kitchen, however her mum caught her arm as she saw her trying to escape, and she yelped. Right on a violet stain.
“Jesse, what the hell is this?”
She didn;t want to answer, she didnt need to answer, she just ran.
» Posted By rolo On 07.21.2011 @ 12:19 pm
He picked up sticks all day long, thinking that was what he was supposed to do. He copied all the dogs in the neighbourhood, although for some reason, he knew not to stick them in his mouth. He would just find them and take them home, leaving them in a small pile by the front door for Derek to find when he came home from work.
Derek was never pleased, never patted him on the head. He just would bend down, pick up the stick, and throw it back out into the garden.
» Posted By rolo On 07.17.2011 @ 4:18 pm
He bowed so that his face almost touched his knees, closing his eyes tight shut and hoping that when they were open, he could balance again and bring himself upright. He tried, and he did so, no effort involved.
The room was the same, people were still staring, but he had more respect on his side because he had the prettiest bow anyone had seen so far. He even got a clap for it.
» Posted By Rolo On 07.14.2011 @ 12:19 pm
The straw hung out his mouth, not one of those curly straws that everyone used to lunge for, but the standard size.
» Posted By Rolo On 07.11.2011 @ 4:04 pm
It wasn’t what he meant. He meant something more, not something less. He was mean, because he was hurt. She had no clue. She never understood him. Maybe it was for the best that she walked away and left him.
She certainly thought so. How could this continue when they wanted different things, needed different things? it was useless.
» Posted By Rolo On 07.11.2011 @ 10:15 am
the crane stood tall in the centre of the square, sectioned off from the public. You could see it for miles, towering above all the other buildings in the city. It was a landmark – though a temporary one, because when it had finished creating the building, the crane would have served it’s purpose and be removed, moved to it’s new project. But for now, it deserved it’s place in the town.
» Posted By Rolo On 07.04.2011 @ 8:13 am
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Her hair twisted, tugged into the tight ribbon the woman was holding. She didn’t want it in her hair. She could feel the roots ripping, tearing away from her scalp. And she didn’t like it. How could she tell the woman in a polite manner that she was hurting her? Would that be rude to tell her to stop? Would she ignore her?
» Posted By Rolo On 07.01.2011 @ 1:07 pm