As he walked briskly down the road he felt a slight nagging that he shouldn’t be there, as if the fates of the world were being bent by his pure existence. This overwhelming feeling left him with such a straining amount of grief and guilt that he had to just leave.
Kyle Cocina
penny lane. there’s a red bus and a firetruck on the lane, a woman with a black spiky umbrella and a great blue sky. she strolls down the lane, as the firetruck turns on its sirens and flashes, screaming down the road. the woman spooks, and her umbrella flips inside out, waiting to receive rain which won’t fall.
rachel
go down it. Keep up the pace, put one foot infront of the other. Why are you just standing here. You have to get away from him.
lindsay joy
The one lane street curved viciously through the town, as wagons barreled down it and children ran accross heavy traffic. This street was a dangerous way, and it was usually safer, best even, to take to the rooftops.
But htis was my street. Me, the thief boy. I owned this street, this busy, lucky street.
amanda
penny lane
Anonymous
i love to see the lane of the stair case and i see it everyday and i will always get to ride on top of it and it is so much fun and i love it too.
lane
oneword.com is a great path to author
Anonymous
he walked down the lane to her house, skipping slightly, and going out of his way to step on the crunchy leaves. the smell of campfires and happiness filled the air, and he turned to face her house. he imagined her sitting in her room, playing with her hair, and doing math homework.
marissa
He clicked the bookmark to oneword.com. Rats. The word hadn’t updated. He closed his laptop walked out to the lane in front of his house and laid down on the blacktop. A passing car crushed his head like a melon.
Comrade Matt
the car started traveling down the lane. it went into an alley. all of a sudden a robber appeared and took out a gun
Anonymous
it is like a strees and it is my dads middle name
Anonymous
A lane, a path we travel through our lives. It is our fate, our destiny, but also our choices. It can be followed like a path across the vast hills of reality, and through valleys of expectations and decisions imposed, or it can be carved for ourselves, burnt from the forest of possibility.
Kommissar
down the winding lane ambled a crooked, agen man. WHo is he? WHere is he from? No one knows. Yet he still he comes.
Mary P.
Lane are in traffic, in Elementary school, right before the cafeteria. Lanes consist of direction, guidance. They show you the path and you go to it. It’s as simple as that. There is no discussion, no debate, no screaming against your father’s wishes. Nothing is more simple, more dedicating. You are on a lane.
Scythe42
Lane, as in street, as in road.
Such a strange thing that we have so many words for the same thing.
Were they all once different things? Doubtful. Most likely regional dialect. Who knows.
Casey
down the winding lane ambled a crooked old man. Who is he? WHere is he from? No one knows, yet hes always there.
mary papania
It was a lovely evening. A lovely evening for a walk. I look down the street towards where the sun was setting. The street sign caught my eye and I laughed. It was so ironic I couldn’t help it. Memory Lane.
AlmaPheonix
as i walked down the lane, the rain was beating down. i was soaked to the bone, the chill in the air making me shiver. there was something familiar about this lane
dh
Walking down the lane, all I could hear was the crunch of the leaves, crumbling under my feet. It’s moments like this that make me think of nothing–and just feel.
someone
One lane led to prosperity and one led to treachery. The problem was, she didn’t know which was which. She had tried to listen to the advice given to her, but she just couldn’t be sure. She gathered all her strength, weighed her options, and finally chose. This is it, she told herself. It’s now or never, and I’m tired of waiting. Here goes nothing!
Tonia
take the slow lane the next time… and look around…
Anonymous
There’s something therapeutic about driving in the opposite lane. I’ve never done it, but I’ve often thought about it and imagining it always makes me feel a strange mixture of calm and exhilarating. So I’m thinking about trying it. After all, don’t we all want our lives to be like that?
Kaston
lanes with trees. dog lane? lean.
Anonymous
i was driving in the fast lane. slow traffic to the right.
i was moving past motherfuckers i didn’t like.
lotan
I took the next turn and kept going. Not looking back. Never looking back. When the sun started to rise over that long stretch of highway I was struck by a sense of freedom I had never known. Its just a never ending patch of road with a never ending line of possibilities. Its just you. The road. And all of your inhibitions thrown out the window to play with the roadkill and trash. Hopefully one day it won’t be inhibitions but highway hopes and dreams. Loves lost and found. A time for everthing and your perceptions thrown to the wayside. I love the road. It reminds me that there is something bigger out there in a more symbolic way than religion could ever accomplish.
Allison Wint
rustic almost, a little thatched roof cottage, flowers on a trellis. dusty. spring. England? it is a path that leads to simple, so ironically it never is.
trellis
I went down Copperfield Lane and thought of all the times I spent at the cul de sac down the street. We smoked cigarettes and played guitar, made high school seem interesting, made anything seem better than what’s happening now. we had our own place, somewhere only we knew, somewhere we could go and enjoy without anyone bothering us. in the springs the cherry blossoms come out and bathe us in pink.
tigger
Lane what we can drive and walk down, t is spelt with four letters and other word combinations are anel, nela, elan, nale, nael, nlae. quite boring really. I think I hate this word really.
Robyn
Everybody knows Lane, She was only 16 years old but man did she had the world in her hands. She was the class president, did a bunch of community service and she even went to Church like 3 times a week. She was a good girl.
Kiwi
The cop gave a ticket to the guy in the next lane.
niki
As i speed pass cars switching lanes.
Anonymous
I wish I was driving down my lane.
Anonymous
Are there any other words besides lane? I don’t know that I am even particularly fond of the word “lane,” the connotation is nothing all that thrilling. I think of cars and lines and waiting and cigarettes. Of blinking lights at supermarkets and muffin-top fleshy torsos spilling over Wal-mart jeans.
devon
The lanes merged up ahead, but the driver didn’t seem to know which one he wanted to change in to.
Charrle’s sighed, his patience waning; having worked as a trucked for over twenty years, he had seen all type of drivers as he crossed the country on his routes. There was the sunday driver, as most people were familiar with, but there were so many other variations of the animal.
Deadlox
i am driving in the lane and i am sad about it becaues i am driving in the wrong lane and i am about to crash and die but i don’t want to die and now i am really sad
nynna S.
There was a small lane just inside the vilage walls. No-one ever used it. It had the best virgin snow in the county. It was there i saw the footprints…
DCB
It wasn’t just your ordinary lane. It wasn’t particularly long either. A gargantuan lane that sucked up its surrounding components like a twister. I was sucked in like the rest of them. A little fly following the light “13”
devon
lane is actually my cousin’s middle name. i love my cousin!
haha.
rae
The lane was full, jam packed up to the exit, we were emerging from the hinterlands and we had a concert to go to, and all at once, we were stuck. All six lanes. Jam packed. Stuffed Up. The road clogged.
As he walked briskly down the road he felt a slight nagging that he shouldn’t be there, as if the fates of the world were being bent by his pure existence. This overwhelming feeling left him with such a straining amount of grief and guilt that he had to just leave.
penny lane. there’s a red bus and a firetruck on the lane, a woman with a black spiky umbrella and a great blue sky. she strolls down the lane, as the firetruck turns on its sirens and flashes, screaming down the road. the woman spooks, and her umbrella flips inside out, waiting to receive rain which won’t fall.
go down it. Keep up the pace, put one foot infront of the other. Why are you just standing here. You have to get away from him.
The one lane street curved viciously through the town, as wagons barreled down it and children ran accross heavy traffic. This street was a dangerous way, and it was usually safer, best even, to take to the rooftops.
But htis was my street. Me, the thief boy. I owned this street, this busy, lucky street.
penny lane
i love to see the lane of the stair case and i see it everyday and i will always get to ride on top of it and it is so much fun and i love it too.
oneword.com is a great path to author
he walked down the lane to her house, skipping slightly, and going out of his way to step on the crunchy leaves. the smell of campfires and happiness filled the air, and he turned to face her house. he imagined her sitting in her room, playing with her hair, and doing math homework.
He clicked the bookmark to oneword.com. Rats. The word hadn’t updated. He closed his laptop walked out to the lane in front of his house and laid down on the blacktop. A passing car crushed his head like a melon.
the car started traveling down the lane. it went into an alley. all of a sudden a robber appeared and took out a gun
it is like a strees and it is my dads middle name
A lane, a path we travel through our lives. It is our fate, our destiny, but also our choices. It can be followed like a path across the vast hills of reality, and through valleys of expectations and decisions imposed, or it can be carved for ourselves, burnt from the forest of possibility.
down the winding lane ambled a crooked, agen man. WHo is he? WHere is he from? No one knows. Yet he still he comes.
Lane are in traffic, in Elementary school, right before the cafeteria. Lanes consist of direction, guidance. They show you the path and you go to it. It’s as simple as that. There is no discussion, no debate, no screaming against your father’s wishes. Nothing is more simple, more dedicating. You are on a lane.
Lane, as in street, as in road.
Such a strange thing that we have so many words for the same thing.
Were they all once different things? Doubtful. Most likely regional dialect. Who knows.
down the winding lane ambled a crooked old man. Who is he? WHere is he from? No one knows, yet hes always there.
It was a lovely evening. A lovely evening for a walk. I look down the street towards where the sun was setting. The street sign caught my eye and I laughed. It was so ironic I couldn’t help it. Memory Lane.
as i walked down the lane, the rain was beating down. i was soaked to the bone, the chill in the air making me shiver. there was something familiar about this lane
Walking down the lane, all I could hear was the crunch of the leaves, crumbling under my feet. It’s moments like this that make me think of nothing–and just feel.
One lane led to prosperity and one led to treachery. The problem was, she didn’t know which was which. She had tried to listen to the advice given to her, but she just couldn’t be sure. She gathered all her strength, weighed her options, and finally chose. This is it, she told herself. It’s now or never, and I’m tired of waiting. Here goes nothing!
take the slow lane the next time… and look around…
There’s something therapeutic about driving in the opposite lane. I’ve never done it, but I’ve often thought about it and imagining it always makes me feel a strange mixture of calm and exhilarating. So I’m thinking about trying it. After all, don’t we all want our lives to be like that?
lanes with trees. dog lane? lean.
i was driving in the fast lane. slow traffic to the right.
i was moving past motherfuckers i didn’t like.
I took the next turn and kept going. Not looking back. Never looking back. When the sun started to rise over that long stretch of highway I was struck by a sense of freedom I had never known. Its just a never ending patch of road with a never ending line of possibilities. Its just you. The road. And all of your inhibitions thrown out the window to play with the roadkill and trash. Hopefully one day it won’t be inhibitions but highway hopes and dreams. Loves lost and found. A time for everthing and your perceptions thrown to the wayside. I love the road. It reminds me that there is something bigger out there in a more symbolic way than religion could ever accomplish.
rustic almost, a little thatched roof cottage, flowers on a trellis. dusty. spring. England? it is a path that leads to simple, so ironically it never is.
I went down Copperfield Lane and thought of all the times I spent at the cul de sac down the street. We smoked cigarettes and played guitar, made high school seem interesting, made anything seem better than what’s happening now. we had our own place, somewhere only we knew, somewhere we could go and enjoy without anyone bothering us. in the springs the cherry blossoms come out and bathe us in pink.
Lane what we can drive and walk down, t is spelt with four letters and other word combinations are anel, nela, elan, nale, nael, nlae. quite boring really. I think I hate this word really.
Everybody knows Lane, She was only 16 years old but man did she had the world in her hands. She was the class president, did a bunch of community service and she even went to Church like 3 times a week. She was a good girl.
The cop gave a ticket to the guy in the next lane.
As i speed pass cars switching lanes.
I wish I was driving down my lane.
Are there any other words besides lane? I don’t know that I am even particularly fond of the word “lane,” the connotation is nothing all that thrilling. I think of cars and lines and waiting and cigarettes. Of blinking lights at supermarkets and muffin-top fleshy torsos spilling over Wal-mart jeans.
The lanes merged up ahead, but the driver didn’t seem to know which one he wanted to change in to.
Charrle’s sighed, his patience waning; having worked as a trucked for over twenty years, he had seen all type of drivers as he crossed the country on his routes. There was the sunday driver, as most people were familiar with, but there were so many other variations of the animal.
i am driving in the lane and i am sad about it becaues i am driving in the wrong lane and i am about to crash and die but i don’t want to die and now i am really sad
There was a small lane just inside the vilage walls. No-one ever used it. It had the best virgin snow in the county. It was there i saw the footprints…
It wasn’t just your ordinary lane. It wasn’t particularly long either. A gargantuan lane that sucked up its surrounding components like a twister. I was sucked in like the rest of them. A little fly following the light “13”
lane is actually my cousin’s middle name. i love my cousin!
haha.
The lane was full, jam packed up to the exit, we were emerging from the hinterlands and we had a concert to go to, and all at once, we were stuck. All six lanes. Jam packed. Stuffed Up. The road clogged.
lane.