I looked at my trunk, the old one with the brass lining and sighed, trying hard not to cry. It was the first time I opened it since Papa died. there was my dress, my favorite one I wore when I was eleven. And my shoes and necklace he bought me on my birthday.
we all carry around luggage. some purses, some backpacks, some suitcases or dufflebags. on days like today i feel like mine is a trunk. my feet as if they’re fitted into cement because of the weight holding onto me. tell me, can you really let go of the past? or does the Past have to graciously loosen it’s grimy fingers from your collar for you to move on?
He had to but he was terrified of it. Brant looked around, and the forest was stil quiet and calm. But he knew they were coming. So he did it. He jumped and started climbing up the trunk. This was his onlhy way to keep himself alive. And if there was one thing he knew for sure was that he needed to be alive.
it unfurled its trunk smoothly, like a blossom opening in springtime, except that rarely were blossoms awe-inspiring. its smooth, leathery grey skin shone in the sun, and when it blew water playfully at its companion, the droplets caught the light like mirrors and reflected it all over the great beast, dappling it with gold.
finally, the final bag had been crammed in the trunk, and he was feeling increasingly anxious about the whole road trip idea. That is. He could hardly stand these people for a few hours at a time, and now he’d agreed to drive them halfway around the country? With a trunk full of bags heavier, probably, than the car itself?
but it was too late to change his mind now. His friends were piled half on top of each other, and the empty driver’s seat was sitting there waiting for him.
he took a breath, released it slowly, and climbed in.
The old trunk looked quite dusty and alone, sitting on the floor of the attic. it’s what drew her eys, and once she noticed it, it seemed to shift the room, to become it’s centre. She decided that was where she needed to start. Weren’t old trunks in movies always the source of information and mystery?
Ich stelle mir vor, dass ich eine große Portion Gepäck, nein, eine Leiche doch?, in einen Gepäckraum des Autos verfrachte. Ich schließe ihn: knall. Und fahre los. Los, los, los! Ich rase dahin, nichts geht mehr, mit 180 Sachen und mehr schlittere ich dahin; einer Wand entgegen. Boooooooooom.
hauling our lives in hollow trunks behind us everywhere we go. Onto trains, in a passenger seat’s of our lonesome beetles running on asphalt roads leading no where. Our past haunts us, why do we hang onto it so closely?
for the third time i get TRUNK. I’da thunk I’d have gotten another word but it keep coming up trunks..is it trying to tell me something ? My cousin says our family all has legs like tree trunks..
Screwed up already, she’s said yes to the boy she knows she can never love. And to the man she wants to love. And to the boys who would never love her. The forest doesn’t console her, just gives her plenty of shoulders to cry on, more broad and more reliable than any others she could possibly find.
I just did Trunk, but I guess the randomiser is on holiday, its summer holiday time and even a randomiser has to have a break now and again, it’s tough having to think of fresh new words every time some aspiring writer or bored person presses your button
The cop lifted the trunk of the car suspiciously, scrutinizing every detail of the decrepit backseat. The smell of bleach seeped from the rough carpet and clothes were strewn on the car’s floor. When the cop spotted rope and duct tape under the tattered old seat, he knew he’d found a infallible suspect for the murder case.
Donald and Daisy duck, off for a drive in cartoonland country, with Huey , Dewie and Louie crammed into the trunk…actually they’re in a rumble seat I think but not being american I always think of it as a trunk
Someone had slid a trunk across the barn floor, and then several sets of hands roughly dragged Jensen’s body across it, with someone holding his legs down. He grimaced. As he opened his eyes he was facing the fireplace and watched as a grinning young man pulled an iron from the fire and wave it in front of him.
a road trip. it was the only suitable answer to the question of “last summer before graduation; what are we doing?” becca looked over at me, her blonde hair shimmering under the scorching summer sun and i laughed, making a stupid face. i shoved my suitcase into the trunk of her car and slammed the lid down.
I could hear something in the trunk, banging around. The more I listened, the heavier it sounded. And it wasn’t really banging. It was rolling. Who were these people? Suddenly, hitch-hiking felt like a terrible idea.
He ran his hands on the beautiful trunk of the elephant. Smiling, Gary couldn’t help but marvel at how he managed to go all the way to Africa. How is it that he of all people won the contest?
“Almost done?” Hannah asked.
Gary laughed, “Sorry, this is just so spectacular.”
I packed it all up in the trunk of my car. A couple old t-shirts, a pair of sneakers, a bag of coffee, my dog. And I took off. Holding on to the steering wheel with one hand, I shuffled through my loose cds, now pretty scuffed up. I picked one out, hoping it wasn’t too scratched to play and I popped it in, turned up the volume, and got out of there.
In the trunk of the car there was nothing but forgotten toys. The girl opened the trunk, trying to look for her old roller skates. They were there, purple and worn out, long ago forgotten. She sighed, she could no longer use them.
“whatcha gonna do with all that junk all that junk inside yo trunk.” that song was not the first thing i thought of but i thought about it for too long and decided to just write down whatever. I actually kind of love that song to be honest..i mean it’s called my humps how can you not want to just dance like a maniac when you listen to it?
As I packed the luggage into the trunk of the car, I wondered when the next time I would be back home. I never had to pack up my entire life with a one way ticket in my other hand; not knowing the future made me worry about what could happen, what if everything didn’t work out as planned, and what would happen if it doesn’t.
My mother has a trunk that contains all of her memories from her childhood, including essays and fun little holiday stuff from elementary school. We don’t look through it anymore, but when mama was divorcing my dad, we went through some of the stuff and she started crying because I knew that there was so much stuff that she missed out on in her life.
I still remember that day we folded over my car seats and sat on top of my trunk. All seven of us squished in the small space of my Ford, with our breaths fogging up the windows. It really was a marvelous day, now that I remember. We all felt so open and free, like the bird that flew over our heads. Somethings just have to feel like they are enough, and that was one of them.
Why did I stick him the Trunk? I know its wrong. I know I shouldve just left him alone. but he should have left us be and then the trunk wouldnt be covered in his blood. The trunk wouldnt be a hiding space for the dead. but the scary part was that the trunk was empty.
I knew he was there. I saw him. I put him there. He’s blood was seeping into the carpet.
It’s not evil. It’s just the trunk of a tree. And yet, it hurts, it hurts to touch, to look at, it hurts to think of the memory of the trunk. How many years went into that trunk of one tree, swirls of years, swirls of hurt in that one trunk. Black bark. Black years, of a people hurt by wars. Yet the trunk survived winters and summers, blood and tears. The trunk is still there, no branches, no leaves. Just a trunk. The memory of a tree, the memory of a people.
The tree trunk served two purposes. It carried all the memories of the leaves of course and it also carried everything that a great big plant like that could need. The veins of memory and water, thought and sun rippled through the trunk.
She pounded and pounded against the inside, painted black for effect, she imagined. With each fist that landed on the concave roof, another gash appeared on her knuckles. But despite any feeling or blood dripping, she had to beat her way out. She had only herself to rely on. It was the only way. Nobody was going to save her.
Will growled, kicking out at the side of the trunk.
“You haven’t actually been abducted,” laughed a quiet voice. Will jumped and turned to see his roommate sitting beside him. “We jsut tied you up so you wouldn’t try to get out.”
“Oh,” Will answered quietly. “Dew, where am I?” Dewey shrugged, then stood up, peering out of the trunk.
“Hey, where are we? Mr. Heir wants to know.”
It’s the thing elephants have, right? It’s also the rear part of a car. It’s awesome when it’s the thing elephants have, though. I mean, they squirt on people with that thing! They do that, don’t they?
I didn’t know what to expect when I looked down, but it certainly wasn’t that. It’s not a dead body, if that’s what you’re thinking, because that would be too obvious to find in the trunk. No it was something quite different all together. It was a bag, just a bag at first, but spilling out were pages and pages of photos of her, just her.
“where is it?” the voice was low and threatening. I bit my lip, wondering if it would do me any good to struggle against this strangers strong grip. Probably not.
“answer me! i said: where…is…it?”
“let me go and I’ll tell you,” i answered, trying to keep my voice steady. who the heck was this guy? the stranger hesitated, then stepped away.
“Fine. now will you tell me?”
“actually–” i started to say. I had been about to call him something mean and run, but just then a car passed us, and the headlights briefly flashed across his face. the short moment when his face was light up was all the time i needed: i knew who this was.
“um…it’s…it’s in the trunk,” i muttered, suddenly unable to breath. in the dark, i saw him nod and turn towards my car, which was parked on the other side of the street. i couldn’t possibly run away now.
The trunk is full we are on our way. I have married the man of my dreams and our life together has just begun. Oh no wait. He is not the person I thought he was.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Wendy shook her head as she slammed the trunk of her car closed. “I’m leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Jenny grabbed her wrist.
“Wendy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.” Wendy pulled her arm out of Jenny’s grasp.
“I loved him. You’re my sister and you took him from me. I can’t believe you could betray me like that. Just stop it. Stop pretending like you regret it. Stop pretending like you’re sorry. Let go. Let me go.”
Wendy opened the car door and climbed inside. She only uttered one sentence before driving away.
“I hope you two are happy together.”
All Jenny could do was watch as Wendy’s car disappeared from view… and then she cried.
truncated at the knee
this movement is the speed of a slow dance
ungainly gait of fancy feet
you’re never gonna get there on time
but damn
you’ve got some style
I looked at my trunk, the old one with the brass lining and sighed, trying hard not to cry. It was the first time I opened it since Papa died. there was my dress, my favorite one I wore when I was eleven. And my shoes and necklace he bought me on my birthday.
we all carry around luggage. some purses, some backpacks, some suitcases or dufflebags. on days like today i feel like mine is a trunk. my feet as if they’re fitted into cement because of the weight holding onto me. tell me, can you really let go of the past? or does the Past have to graciously loosen it’s grimy fingers from your collar for you to move on?
He had to but he was terrified of it. Brant looked around, and the forest was stil quiet and calm. But he knew they were coming. So he did it. He jumped and started climbing up the trunk. This was his onlhy way to keep himself alive. And if there was one thing he knew for sure was that he needed to be alive.
it unfurled its trunk smoothly, like a blossom opening in springtime, except that rarely were blossoms awe-inspiring. its smooth, leathery grey skin shone in the sun, and when it blew water playfully at its companion, the droplets caught the light like mirrors and reflected it all over the great beast, dappling it with gold.
finally, the final bag had been crammed in the trunk, and he was feeling increasingly anxious about the whole road trip idea. That is. He could hardly stand these people for a few hours at a time, and now he’d agreed to drive them halfway around the country? With a trunk full of bags heavier, probably, than the car itself?
but it was too late to change his mind now. His friends were piled half on top of each other, and the empty driver’s seat was sitting there waiting for him.
he took a breath, released it slowly, and climbed in.
stowing treasures or moving them across a long distance, holding memories, or dead bodies
The old trunk looked quite dusty and alone, sitting on the floor of the attic. it’s what drew her eys, and once she noticed it, it seemed to shift the room, to become it’s centre. She decided that was where she needed to start. Weren’t old trunks in movies always the source of information and mystery?
Junk in the
Dead body
Threw her ass in the
Broken
Opens in the wind
Bug butt
Groceries squish
Not big enough
No seats left
Little
Car
Elephant
Ich stelle mir vor, dass ich eine große Portion Gepäck, nein, eine Leiche doch?, in einen Gepäckraum des Autos verfrachte. Ich schließe ihn: knall. Und fahre los. Los, los, los! Ich rase dahin, nichts geht mehr, mit 180 Sachen und mehr schlittere ich dahin; einer Wand entgegen. Boooooooooom.
hauling our lives in hollow trunks behind us everywhere we go. Onto trains, in a passenger seat’s of our lonesome beetles running on asphalt roads leading no where. Our past haunts us, why do we hang onto it so closely?
for the third time i get TRUNK. I’da thunk I’d have gotten another word but it keep coming up trunks..is it trying to tell me something ? My cousin says our family all has legs like tree trunks..
Screwed up already, she’s said yes to the boy she knows she can never love. And to the man she wants to love. And to the boys who would never love her. The forest doesn’t console her, just gives her plenty of shoulders to cry on, more broad and more reliable than any others she could possibly find.
I just did Trunk, but I guess the randomiser is on holiday, its summer holiday time and even a randomiser has to have a break now and again, it’s tough having to think of fresh new words every time some aspiring writer or bored person presses your button
The cop lifted the trunk of the car suspiciously, scrutinizing every detail of the decrepit backseat. The smell of bleach seeped from the rough carpet and clothes were strewn on the car’s floor. When the cop spotted rope and duct tape under the tattered old seat, he knew he’d found a infallible suspect for the murder case.
Donald and Daisy duck, off for a drive in cartoonland country, with Huey , Dewie and Louie crammed into the trunk…actually they’re in a rumble seat I think but not being american I always think of it as a trunk
Someone had slid a trunk across the barn floor, and then several sets of hands roughly dragged Jensen’s body across it, with someone holding his legs down. He grimaced. As he opened his eyes he was facing the fireplace and watched as a grinning young man pulled an iron from the fire and wave it in front of him.
a road trip. it was the only suitable answer to the question of “last summer before graduation; what are we doing?” becca looked over at me, her blonde hair shimmering under the scorching summer sun and i laughed, making a stupid face. i shoved my suitcase into the trunk of her car and slammed the lid down.
I could hear something in the trunk, banging around. The more I listened, the heavier it sounded. And it wasn’t really banging. It was rolling. Who were these people? Suddenly, hitch-hiking felt like a terrible idea.
He ran his hands on the beautiful trunk of the elephant. Smiling, Gary couldn’t help but marvel at how he managed to go all the way to Africa. How is it that he of all people won the contest?
“Almost done?” Hannah asked.
Gary laughed, “Sorry, this is just so spectacular.”
I packed it all up in the trunk of my car. A couple old t-shirts, a pair of sneakers, a bag of coffee, my dog. And I took off. Holding on to the steering wheel with one hand, I shuffled through my loose cds, now pretty scuffed up. I picked one out, hoping it wasn’t too scratched to play and I popped it in, turned up the volume, and got out of there.
In the trunk of the car there was nothing but forgotten toys. The girl opened the trunk, trying to look for her old roller skates. They were there, purple and worn out, long ago forgotten. She sighed, she could no longer use them.
Trunk of a car. Trunk of a tree. Elephant trunk. Trunk of a body.
Someone housed in a trunk kidnapped. A child swinging in the trunk of a tree. Out of time!
“whatcha gonna do with all that junk all that junk inside yo trunk.” that song was not the first thing i thought of but i thought about it for too long and decided to just write down whatever. I actually kind of love that song to be honest..i mean it’s called my humps how can you not want to just dance like a maniac when you listen to it?
As I packed the luggage into the trunk of the car, I wondered when the next time I would be back home. I never had to pack up my entire life with a one way ticket in my other hand; not knowing the future made me worry about what could happen, what if everything didn’t work out as planned, and what would happen if it doesn’t.
My mother has a trunk that contains all of her memories from her childhood, including essays and fun little holiday stuff from elementary school. We don’t look through it anymore, but when mama was divorcing my dad, we went through some of the stuff and she started crying because I knew that there was so much stuff that she missed out on in her life.
I still remember that day we folded over my car seats and sat on top of my trunk. All seven of us squished in the small space of my Ford, with our breaths fogging up the windows. It really was a marvelous day, now that I remember. We all felt so open and free, like the bird that flew over our heads. Somethings just have to feel like they are enough, and that was one of them.
Why did I stick him the Trunk? I know its wrong. I know I shouldve just left him alone. but he should have left us be and then the trunk wouldnt be covered in his blood. The trunk wouldnt be a hiding space for the dead. but the scary part was that the trunk was empty.
I knew he was there. I saw him. I put him there. He’s blood was seeping into the carpet.
It’s not evil. It’s just the trunk of a tree. And yet, it hurts, it hurts to touch, to look at, it hurts to think of the memory of the trunk. How many years went into that trunk of one tree, swirls of years, swirls of hurt in that one trunk. Black bark. Black years, of a people hurt by wars. Yet the trunk survived winters and summers, blood and tears. The trunk is still there, no branches, no leaves. Just a trunk. The memory of a tree, the memory of a people.
The tree trunk served two purposes. It carried all the memories of the leaves of course and it also carried everything that a great big plant like that could need. The veins of memory and water, thought and sun rippled through the trunk.
wood, strong, oak, turned to chest a trunk of memories old photographs, mere faces scratched upon paper. words- letters should have been sent
She pounded and pounded against the inside, painted black for effect, she imagined. With each fist that landed on the concave roof, another gash appeared on her knuckles. But despite any feeling or blood dripping, she had to beat her way out. She had only herself to rely on. It was the only way. Nobody was going to save her.
Will growled, kicking out at the side of the trunk.
“You haven’t actually been abducted,” laughed a quiet voice. Will jumped and turned to see his roommate sitting beside him. “We jsut tied you up so you wouldn’t try to get out.”
“Oh,” Will answered quietly. “Dew, where am I?” Dewey shrugged, then stood up, peering out of the trunk.
“Hey, where are we? Mr. Heir wants to know.”
It’s the thing elephants have, right? It’s also the rear part of a car. It’s awesome when it’s the thing elephants have, though. I mean, they squirt on people with that thing! They do that, don’t they?
I didn’t know what to expect when I looked down, but it certainly wasn’t that. It’s not a dead body, if that’s what you’re thinking, because that would be too obvious to find in the trunk. No it was something quite different all together. It was a bag, just a bag at first, but spilling out were pages and pages of photos of her, just her.
its lame . put dead bodies inside. keeps groceries and have sex iinside it .
shabalabadingdong
Tree car chopchop chepchep n’est ce pas ?
“where is it?” the voice was low and threatening. I bit my lip, wondering if it would do me any good to struggle against this strangers strong grip. Probably not.
“answer me! i said: where…is…it?”
“let me go and I’ll tell you,” i answered, trying to keep my voice steady. who the heck was this guy? the stranger hesitated, then stepped away.
“Fine. now will you tell me?”
“actually–” i started to say. I had been about to call him something mean and run, but just then a car passed us, and the headlights briefly flashed across his face. the short moment when his face was light up was all the time i needed: i knew who this was.
“um…it’s…it’s in the trunk,” i muttered, suddenly unable to breath. in the dark, i saw him nod and turn towards my car, which was parked on the other side of the street. i couldn’t possibly run away now.
The trunk is full we are on our way. I have married the man of my dreams and our life together has just begun. Oh no wait. He is not the person I thought he was.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Wendy shook her head as she slammed the trunk of her car closed. “I’m leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Jenny grabbed her wrist.
“Wendy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.” Wendy pulled her arm out of Jenny’s grasp.
“I loved him. You’re my sister and you took him from me. I can’t believe you could betray me like that. Just stop it. Stop pretending like you regret it. Stop pretending like you’re sorry. Let go. Let me go.”
Wendy opened the car door and climbed inside. She only uttered one sentence before driving away.
“I hope you two are happy together.”
All Jenny could do was watch as Wendy’s car disappeared from view… and then she cried.
truncated at the knee
this movement is the speed of a slow dance
ungainly gait of fancy feet
you’re never gonna get there on time
but damn
you’ve got some style