There was a soft rustling noise as I slid across the couch. Putting my arm around his shoulder I murmured, “I’m so sorry. It happened last night. It just-”
“No.” He looked at me full on in the face. I was surprised with the dedication and vehemence he spoke- his eyes were unsure, but I could see no start of tears.
RUSTLING. I FELT IT. IN MY PANTS. Then I realized. oh. it was a mouse. That mouse was was pure white. How did it get there? What..I don’t work in a laboratory. I ain’t no scientist. EXPLAIN.
I heard a sound from the bushes. What was this? A small animal or an alien or a large man? I could not be sure until I checked. I peeked in but couldn’t see.
Darn.
I’d have to get my hands dirty.
I grabbed a shovel.
That bush is not here anymore and neither is that rabbit.
When I hear this word all I can do is think about the fall. Then that makes me think about the fall semester of school, and how that turns into winter. And how my Junior year will be over before I know it. I am ready, I am ready to learn.
rustling leaves signal the coming of autumn. the wind blows a new start, a new season, a new reality. the wind blows away the past, the old leaves of summer. who knew such wonders could arise….the sadness lets go to a new beginning. i don’t need you anymore, though a part of me still wants you more than anything. but i will live. a new chapter has started
The baby raccoon was underneath the bush, causing a slight rustling noise. It filled the damp night air and sent a shiver down my spine. Derp derp depr derp derp. Garbage bags rustling in the winddddddddddddddddddddddddd yep. WEEGEE!
the leaves were rustling around the dirt floor. They sounded like someone digging their hands in a bag of lays potato chips. The sky was so blue it almost hurt my eyes.
my eyelids move all funny up and down and i drink a lot to make them slow down and beat a normal rhythm. i don’t know. i’m hurting, and i wish i heard some rustling outside my window and i wish i’d look out and see you there but i know better, so i drink. i slow my eyes.
There was a sound above me in the trees. a clicking, whirring sound that rustled the leaves. i could see tiny beams of light filtering through the branches, and could hear tiny breaths
as i stared out the window i could feel the wind rustling through my hair. in that moment, it was as if i knew everything was going to be ok. it was the calm.
The papers rustled as they clumsily moved around her room, ignoring the mess that was everywhere. There could have been a sea monster in the middle of her room and they wouldn’t have cared less.
as i heard a rusting in the leaves, i dicided to check it out. wallowing in the leaves, was my dear friend Russel. he tends to do this when he’s bored. i think he’s mad he has no arms and legs.
The leaves sat high on the branches…they were ready to fall. They let go one by one rustling through the old rotting tree. Until they peacefully hit the soft ground.
He walked through the park, the leaves on the trees rustling in an eerie way. It was eerie because he could only hear the rustling. That it was so silent that he noticed something that he would never notice at another time…
the leaves fell perfectly on the pavement. The most beautiful comors you could imagine. As i walked to work i made sure i stepped on the crunchy ristling le
leaves falling off trees int he fall. red, orange, yellow, turn to brown when they are on the ground. walking through leaves, crunching, fall is a beautiful season. sounds of wind in the background of life.
There was the leaves, the sky, the falling sun. We were nestled in those autumnal piles, wet and crawling with unwanted critters but the two of us. The wind rushed by, rustling the leaves along our skin.
there is a rustling.
a rustling deep within me.
to be better than myself.
to achieve the impossible.
to love like no other.
to have children,
and help them achieve.
a rustling within my soul.
the rustling is passionate,
it is deep,
it is neverending.
as an old lady i know i shall hear it.
but sigh contently.
when i die, and the rustling is over.
Autumn’s soundtrack; wind and decay that smells not really like the bad kind of death, but the kind people can accept and even admire. Autumn is a good thing.
Everyone is going to post something about leaves rustling in trees. I’d like to be different, and write about something else, but I can’t think of anything else. I guess we all think the same way. Oh, humans.
The leaves rustled in the trees nearby. She sat, silent, waiting for him to come back, knowing he never would. After a few minutes, she sighed and turned back to find a new home.
the leaves rustle in the trees. this us strange, because it is winter. it seems like everything is a step behind. the whether, the sun in the sky, even though it is nighttime, the way you feel. could this life really be yours?
Caw! Caw! Sitting here in my tree is so embracing to a bird like me. CAW! Just rustling my feathers and being a pimp, this is how it is done. All the cawing I does is for the world and I am me, huzzaw.
Leaves rustle on the path as you make your way to the bus stop. That’s a distinct part of the first day of school, and the only one I particularly care for. The rest of it is quite devoid of pleasant rustling.
The sound of her taffeta skirt rustled as she walked, and to most it would have been a rather normal sound, but for me, I who knew what was under that skirt, it was the most erotic noise in the world.
it’s not a word. someone tried to make up a word to describe a small thing that was rusted. and then we got rustling. poor little thing. it doesn’t have a name.
Rustling through my desk drawer I find an old picture of us at the beach, with the ocean bright blue behind us and the day crystal clear, and I cant help but wonder… What went wrong?
When the leaves rustle in the wind, I think of fall. I think of you and I walking, holding hands and breathing in that crisp air. I think of what I felt, and I am starting to think I won’t be able to feel that way ever again.
a few tremors, just a few
but enough to shake the feathers
out of the looser pores;
coated in sweat,
cold, shivering sweat.
my eyelids shot up like
the teacher’s drop down
projector screen when you let
go to soon & I found myself
looking into a stalled ceiling fan.
There was a soft rustling noise as I slid across the couch. Putting my arm around his shoulder I murmured, “I’m so sorry. It happened last night. It just-”
“No.” He looked at me full on in the face. I was surprised with the dedication and vehemence he spoke- his eyes were unsure, but I could see no start of tears.
Rustling. It’s an annoying word. It keeps popping up when I don’t want it to. ARRR I’M A PIRATE. AHHOY DER. I BE SITTIN. I be pip.
RUSTLING. I FELT IT. IN MY PANTS. Then I realized. oh. it was a mouse. That mouse was was pure white. How did it get there? What..I don’t work in a laboratory. I ain’t no scientist. EXPLAIN.
I heard a sound from the bushes. What was this? A small animal or an alien or a large man? I could not be sure until I checked. I peeked in but couldn’t see.
Darn.
I’d have to get my hands dirty.
I grabbed a shovel.
That bush is not here anymore and neither is that rabbit.
When I hear this word all I can do is think about the fall. Then that makes me think about the fall semester of school, and how that turns into winter. And how my Junior year will be over before I know it. I am ready, I am ready to learn.
The couple was rusting underneath the covers. A small child walked in the room, gasped, then ran away. BOW CHIKKA BOW WOW!
rustling leaves signal the coming of autumn. the wind blows a new start, a new season, a new reality. the wind blows away the past, the old leaves of summer. who knew such wonders could arise….the sadness lets go to a new beginning. i don’t need you anymore, though a part of me still wants you more than anything. but i will live. a new chapter has started
Rustling in the moment….before we kissed goodbye.
The baby raccoon was underneath the bush, causing a slight rustling noise. It filled the damp night air and sent a shiver down my spine. Derp derp depr derp derp. Garbage bags rustling in the winddddddddddddddddddddddddd yep. WEEGEE!
the leaves were rustling around the dirt floor. They sounded like someone digging their hands in a bag of lays potato chips. The sky was so blue it almost hurt my eyes.
The tree’s were rustling with anticipation as she held the crumpled paper. Resisting the temptation to read it.
my eyelids move all funny up and down and i drink a lot to make them slow down and beat a normal rhythm. i don’t know. i’m hurting, and i wish i heard some rustling outside my window and i wish i’d look out and see you there but i know better, so i drink. i slow my eyes.
3 baby foxes rustlingin the nearby pines
There was a sound above me in the trees. a clicking, whirring sound that rustled the leaves. i could see tiny beams of light filtering through the branches, and could hear tiny breaths
as i stared out the window i could feel the wind rustling through my hair. in that moment, it was as if i knew everything was going to be ok. it was the calm.
The papers rustled as they clumsily moved around her room, ignoring the mess that was everywhere. There could have been a sea monster in the middle of her room and they wouldn’t have cared less.
as i heard a rusting in the leaves, i dicided to check it out. wallowing in the leaves, was my dear friend Russel. he tends to do this when he’s bored. i think he’s mad he has no arms and legs.
She heard the rustling of the leaves behind her;
but paid it no attention.
Boy, was she surprised
by the engagement
ring.
The leaves sat high on the branches…they were ready to fall. They let go one by one rustling through the old rotting tree. Until they peacefully hit the soft ground.
He walked through the park, the leaves on the trees rustling in an eerie way. It was eerie because he could only hear the rustling. That it was so silent that he noticed something that he would never notice at another time…
the leaves sat high on the branches…they were ready to fall. They let go one by one rustling through the thick branches. Until it hit the soft ground.
the leaves fell perfectly on the pavement. The most beautiful comors you could imagine. As i walked to work i made sure i stepped on the crunchy ristling le
leaves falling off trees int he fall. red, orange, yellow, turn to brown when they are on the ground. walking through leaves, crunching, fall is a beautiful season. sounds of wind in the background of life.
I;m a successful being and always will be i possess infinite intelligence, divine beauty , ONE WITH THE earth. Love life life loves me
There was the leaves, the sky, the falling sun. We were nestled in those autumnal piles, wet and crawling with unwanted critters but the two of us. The wind rushed by, rustling the leaves along our skin.
there is a rustling.
a rustling deep within me.
to be better than myself.
to achieve the impossible.
to love like no other.
to have children,
and help them achieve.
a rustling within my soul.
the rustling is passionate,
it is deep,
it is neverending.
as an old lady i know i shall hear it.
but sigh contently.
when i die, and the rustling is over.
The rustling of pages as they turn is gone. I miss that noise. ebooks should have that noise when you turn the electronic pages.
Autumn’s soundtrack; wind and decay that smells not really like the bad kind of death, but the kind people can accept and even admire. Autumn is a good thing.
Everyone is going to post something about leaves rustling in trees. I’d like to be different, and write about something else, but I can’t think of anything else. I guess we all think the same way. Oh, humans.
The leaves rustled in the trees nearby. She sat, silent, waiting for him to come back, knowing he never would. After a few minutes, she sighed and turned back to find a new home.
the leaves rustle in the trees. this us strange, because it is winter. it seems like everything is a step behind. the whether, the sun in the sky, even though it is nighttime, the way you feel. could this life really be yours?
Caw! Caw! Sitting here in my tree is so embracing to a bird like me. CAW! Just rustling my feathers and being a pimp, this is how it is done. All the cawing I does is for the world and I am me, huzzaw.
There was a rustling behind her as she walked through the woods. She turned and saw a deer peering at her.
Leaves rustle on the path as you make your way to the bus stop. That’s a distinct part of the first day of school, and the only one I particularly care for. The rest of it is quite devoid of pleasant rustling.
The sound of her taffeta skirt rustled as she walked, and to most it would have been a rather normal sound, but for me, I who knew what was under that skirt, it was the most erotic noise in the world.
it’s not a word. someone tried to make up a word to describe a small thing that was rusted. and then we got rustling. poor little thing. it doesn’t have a name.
the leaves were rustling in the trees, the same kind of rustling made by shiny foil wrappers on your favorite candy bars when you were five.
Rustling through my desk drawer I find an old picture of us at the beach, with the ocean bright blue behind us and the day crystal clear, and I cant help but wonder… What went wrong?
When the leaves rustle in the wind, I think of fall. I think of you and I walking, holding hands and breathing in that crisp air. I think of what I felt, and I am starting to think I won’t be able to feel that way ever again.
a few tremors, just a few
but enough to shake the feathers
out of the looser pores;
coated in sweat,
cold, shivering sweat.
my eyelids shot up like
the teacher’s drop down
projector screen when you let
go to soon & I found myself
looking into a stalled ceiling fan.