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kriskenn
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kriskenn
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stunt
It began as just a way to get attention. To bury oneself in shock and awe. To finally stand out amongst the crowd of down gazers, noses plugged into whatever is happening anywhere but here. But your little stunt snapped them into the present. Like a tiny lightbulb flash. Making them have to actually come face-to-face with what they think they might have witnessed. Thanks David Blaine.
recording
High up in the dusty attic. A box. Flaps weaved shut. Below the layers of newspaper clips from a better time. The final recording of his voice, his radio show, lie dormant. He worked his whole life to make them. Call it a feebile attempt to try an make something, anything, that could out last time. But a generation later, it is but a fool's errand.
driveway
headlights. They crawl across the dark living room wall, as if to be a gentle, almost ghostly warning shot that the hard conversation, the one that can't be avoided, is about to explode as soon as he parks. The only thing standing in the way is a sullen walk up the driveway.
medical
sirens echo down cavern streets like a master calling out for a lost dog. the anticipation of what could be wrong, what might be wrong, what's definitely not okay lay at its destination. it's only a place for those with a certain knowledge, that of the medical variety. no boy scouts allowed.
serious
it doesn't matter what else you're doing right now. putting away the groceries can wait. flip off the tv. Get on the phone and call your senator, damn it! stop the texting about how you can't believe your boss is making your work the weekend. There's real stuff going on in the world. And it's way more serious than whatever 1st world inconveniences are bugging you.
bland
everyday. the same thing. I clock in. stare. day dream. clock out. go home. tv. no adventure. no spice. nothing to break this cycle of sameness. Is this what teachers meant by you can be anything when you grow up? they meant be nothing?
eventful
piercing the placidness of the everyday grind. Shaking that Groundhog's Day movie feeling. Shattering your tunnel vision, forcing you to see that maybe every moment is special. Maybe every single moment is worth paying attention to.
flock
together, buzzing through the sky like V-shaped musketeers. One for all, slicing through the clouds, honking like rush hour or big rigs chugging down a highway making sure that everyone stay out their way.
bait
in the middle of the vast blue, it's floating. limp, but present. waiting like nothingness for a train that will never come. But don't let it fool you. One bite, and life as you know it is over.
toned
sweat beads down his forehead. his eyes, focused with a piercing stare. he can endure this self-inflicted pain he puts himself through. he can do it for the beach.
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