Comments Posted By Yona
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She had no less than fourteen barettes in her hair–in purely deocrative places–each one with a plastic sweet glued o one end. Her hair was blue at the roots and pink at the tips.
“What are you looking at?” she said.
» Posted By Yona On 08.15.2016 @ 3:19 pm
The sand scraped her knuckles. She pinched the sand dollar lightly, blew the sand off it, and held it out to him flat in her palm.
“I don’t want that,” he said, shrugging, hands in his pockets.
» Posted By Yona On 08.11.2016 @ 3:20 pm
She pushed the teabag own with the end of her spoon and let it pop back up.
“Smells good,” Sonja said.
“It doesn’t have to be now, but you know we are going to have to talk about the letter eventually.”
» Posted By Yona On 08.07.2016 @ 6:30 pm
Liza lay the compass down atop the stack of white stones from the riverbank, quietly, without even a scrape of metal on rock. The cracked glass face glinted in the low evening light. They could no longer use it, but she hoped it would be enough to help Corey find his way back to them.
» Posted By Yona On 12.04.2015 @ 5:17 am
Her hand was cramping, but there were only 6 entries left, so she maintained her rhythm. One, two, three, four, click, copy, click, paste–two, three, four…
This, the steady click and clatter, was the only way to be sure she was coding the reports correctly – she wasn’t going to reread her work.
» Posted By Yona On 11.21.2015 @ 6:42 pm
“He thinks he’s God’s gift to mankind,” Aunt Wanda said, flicking suds from her fingers.
Annie handed her aunt a dishtowel, looking away. She managed to keep herself from saying, “isn’t he?” but couldn’t stop herself from blushing.
» Posted By Yona On 11.11.2015 @ 3:25 pm
The veins in his biceps bulged. (Red wire, blue wire.) With a considerable amount of noise, perhaps more than was strictly necessary despite the bulging veins, Jon hefted the boulder over his head.
“That wasn’t too bad,” he said, and Jeanette knew she’d been right to suspect all the moaning and groaning was for dramatic effect. He wasn’t even slightly out of breath.
» Posted By Yona On 11.07.2015 @ 6:11 pm
“That’s what’s left of the ancient Romans,” he said.
“What do you mean ‘what’s left?’ I’m pretty sure they were never in Louisianna. And what about, you know, the modern Romans?”
“Oh you know what I mean.”
» Posted By Yona On 11.05.2015 @ 7:08 am
Twigs snapped under foot, releasing the scent of pine. In the long shadows, mushrooms twined with weeds and wild blueberries. It was beautiful. It was a war for space, for room to grow.
Kathy stapped high over a bush and kept going without looking back. The only sounds were the birds and her own breathing.
» Posted By Yona On 11.01.2015 @ 7:27 pm
The sharp lines and unpainted, smooth white face of the new dresser made Sam’s heart lift. It was a quiet victory, one that hardly demanded a smile let alone much else. But all the same, the satisfaction in tossing out the old, ornate, crumbling trunk his late mother had left behind was a great satisfaction.
» Posted By Yona On 10.29.2015 @ 12:04 pm
His hair wasn’t as soft as it looked at a distance–hard, and sticky too–but she dug her fingers in and held on.
That was what he wanted. He winced in pleasure and reached up to clamp her hand to his head before bending to slobber all down her neck again, pulling at the buttons of her shirt.
So this was what it felt like to be a steak.
» Posted By Yona On 10.22.2015 @ 6:45 am
“Still at work, held captive,” she typed back.
She looked up and found herself face-to-face with the new boss and his large, crooked mustache. “You’ve been here long enough to know that no phones are allowed on the floor,” he intoned in his pitbull-like voice.
» Posted By Yona On 10.19.2015 @ 1:41 pm
They sprang from the marsh, not unlike cattails. Glistening in the gray dawn air. They were made of glass at first, silvery, but the walls soon began to thicken, and by full morning, under the sunlight, they were real.
First came the knights, on the backs of frogs and sparrows.
» Posted By Yona On 10.15.2015 @ 7:32 am
They were traditionally made of feathers. For the queens hand maidens, flamingo, or perhaps parakeet. Something colorful and soft. But the queen was only fanned with peacock feathers, embroidered across the bade with silk. She perspired not in massive sweat stains but in beaded jewels across her stately forehead.
» Posted By Yona On 10.13.2015 @ 7:34 am
She felt the hair along the back of her neck prickle in spite of her frin and the heat of the day.
“If that’s what you’d like,” she said. She lifted the cowgirl hat from her head and set it behind her on atop a fence post. “Then let’s do it.”
» Posted By Yona On 10.11.2015 @ 12:08 pm
The bulldozer thinks itself unstoppable until the single, small pebble that –all in an instant–lodges between two parts or ends up inside a shaft. Sends the whole thing smoking. That’s all it takes, a few ounces of something just and hard and determined as all of you. Will vs will vs fulcrum vs tipping point vs fall.
» Posted By Yona On 10.06.2015 @ 6:04 pm
With their glass pipes full of tar and newspaper clippings. (Burn, presidents, civilians, neighbors. Burn.) With their leather boots and brand name sneakers and flip flops. With their TV remotes, plungers, and cell phone chargers. With their backacks and skateboards. With the ties and sunglasses.
» Posted By Yona On 09.07.2015 @ 7:45 pm
In the dream, your face is a thousand shades of purple and gold and pink. No greens, no dragonflies behind those eyes. I shake my head to try to clear your fog, but the smear runs deeper, like streetlights spitting and splitting over water. I cannot, will not, do not ever get to you. Not to the you of you, beneath your colors and fog.
» Posted By Yona On 07.19.2015 @ 6:51 am
The cymbals clanged, the elephants, trumpeted, and the pottery all along the merchants’ stalls jingled as it jiggled in place. The force of the sounds and the motion and the colors knocked Salam back. He crouched in the dirt and watched wide-eyed until the spectacle had passed, leaving candy wrappers swirling on the dust of its wake.
» Posted By Yona On 05.30.2015 @ 5:41 pm
The ice pecked at the window. After only a few minutes, the entire pane was frosted over. The wiper blades made empty zipping sounds as it moved across the ice, shifting not a particle aide.
“Pull over!” Sandra screamed.
“I can feel where the road is.”
“There might still be other cars–pull over!” She opened her door–the wind whistled and whisked a few receipts off the floor out onto the highway–and peered into the ice storm, squinting to see the road.
» Posted By Yona On 05.29.2015 @ 6:29 pm
She cut the air with her hand and shouted, “Ya basta!”
The children, the dogs, the cooks, and the patrons–even the ones who didn’t speak Spanish–all fell silent. The room resounded with the clink of a single dropped fork. No one dared bend down to grab it from beneath the table where it landed.
» Posted By Yona On 05.25.2015 @ 9:15 am
The sound of rustling leaves, funneled down an alleyway by a gust of wind. A cold drip from the storefront eaves on the nape of your neck. A whisper in a language you do not speak. A shiver through your belly–indigestion or premonition?
» Posted By Yona On 05.22.2015 @ 5:29 pm
She squinted, watching the shape of his mouth (bend, compress, one side twisting into a higher smile than the other) as he spoke so intently that she lost track of what he was saying.
“Mm yeah,” she said, forcing herself to refocus. “Hot air balloons.”
“Yeah, like stars–”
And she was gone again, lost in the space between the two almost impossible to notice freckles on his cheek.
» Posted By Yona On 05.19.2015 @ 8:14 pm
The line shivered on a breeze but did not pull tight again. Silver shadows flitted just beneath the water’s surface, skirting around the rowboat’s hull and clustering in the shadows.
“Why don’t they come any closer–?”
The sound mirrored the hiss of air leaving the Coors can as grandma Jane popped the seal. “We have to wait very quietly,” she said, and then took a drink.
» Posted By Yona On 05.19.2015 @ 6:21 am
The metal clanked beneath Jane’s belly; part of this was the sound of her toes hitting the bottom of the duct, and part was independent rattling and growling of pipes. She knew she has passed over a hot water line when she felt the warmth against her palms through the metal.
» Posted By Yona On 05.17.2015 @ 6:29 pm
The girl twisted and shimmied her hips, the wheels grinding up and over the root-warped sidewalk blocks. She ducked low to avoid the neighbor’s wisteria. Then–a sudden pause in the grating sound–she was airborne.
The cat either didn’t hear her (Missy, who was actually male, was very, very old) or he trusted her to miss.
» Posted By Yona On 05.07.2015 @ 4:35 pm
Her eyes flashed green, then red.
“You’re right, ” she said after a long moment. She looked away, out the window towards the mountains, and the air was filled with a smell like burning ozone. “I know nothing of what it means to be human.”
» Posted By Yona On 05.06.2015 @ 5:45 pm
Is that dirt or freckles? he wonders, watching her from beneath the trees. Sunlight slides over her bare shoulders, spearing down towards the earth where she digs in her fingers. Her lap too is covered with dirt and suspiciously bodily roots.
She looks up suddenly, piercing him like sunlight.
“What are you doing over there in the shadows by yourself, Tommy?”
» Posted By Yona On 05.05.2015 @ 5:58 pm
She clicked form one screen to another. “I dunno let me look,” she said.
Janice hardly noticed the pause and kept talking as Susan switched between screens.
“Uh huh, uh huh…”
» Posted By Yona On 05.03.2015 @ 3:48 pm
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His hands were white with chalk and left prints on his shirt where he set his hands upon his hips. “Ready?”
Clara tipped her head back, searching for the top of the wall where it kissed the sky. The dizzying sideways view alone gave her vertigo. She swallowed. “Yes.”
They each wore a harness strapped into a metal rod drilled into the rock–
» Posted By Yona On 05.01.2015 @ 8:45 pm