The paper crinkled as the child unfolded and refolded it over and over again, realizing little gasps of frustration each time. She didn’t know how to make a damn paper swan or frog or anything for that matter so she just settled on folding the little white square into smaller little white squares, hoping the timer would finally go off already. This was her 3rd time being pulled out of class for “Testing” and she was completely over it.
It was a chair. It unfolded, it folded. It was carried.
People sat in it. Regard it thoughtfully. Regarded the world around them thoughtfully.
It was a chair made for the weekend or just getting out of the office for a breath of fresh air.
But perhaps not this weekend. Maybe not even next, nor the one after that. Depending on the unfolding of events…maybe never again. Things were changing, which meant even chairs had to change too. Perhaps it’s for the best, since possibilities open like a blanket, spread upon the grass, or elsewhere on some stretch of earth, like sand. Or maybe they stay chairs. Maybe it’s in a constant state of flux. I guess its all in the outlook. Is there progression and variation, or must it always be static somewhere.
To be born with more autonomy than a folding chair, seems like a blessing, right?
let the same thing reappear, let my decisions be wiser this time
and as the song we again will hear, let the music be sublime
let me taste the cool spring water
let the light of day begin
to make us warmer to the other
and bring the truth of the world on in
Doyle watched the drama unfolding in front of him on the television screen. This was a news channel, but what he was seeing could not be real. The President had just deposed a State Governor, and taken unilateral control of the state. Even with the riots, the long standing corruption, and now the death of the Governor by his own hand, calling this an essential response to a “Clear and Present Danger” was stretching the fabric of the law too far. If it did not tear, it would at least leak. Doyle picked up the phone and tried to call Washington. He had to stop this before it got too far, but he knew it already had. This was not how they had agreed to proceed. The whole plan was in jeopardy.
I must remain passive to the unfolding of our love. My hands are not involved. Only this heart, which bears the burden and responsibility of millions of years of origami, and I’m kind of attached to the way it has formed.
Folding the laundry was the only way to really get away from the children. She’d go downstairs, and begin the ritual. It took her mind to another state, sometimes even far away countries. So she didn’t hear or smell the burning chaos of her ten year old’s microwave experiments.
I saw the beautiful piece of cloth, unfolding from the hands of the two men. On it was embroidered a picture of me and my love. I still have that cloth, and it is one of the things I hold dearest.
The time was finally coming. We would walk across that stage, be handed a piece of paper, and four years will have come to and end. Our futures were unfolding in front of us, as we chose to be the future doctors, lawyers, or politicians of the world.
The thought unfolding in his head disturbed him. Who was she really, and why had she turned up in his life now? With all the s**t happening, now was the most unusual time for anyone to approach him, and in the way she had, that just screamed of planning, but the planning of who, and why?
I am unfolding my shirt as i get ready in the morning and notice there is a stain i havent spotted before. My washing machine is not working well, i must go to the dry cleaners next time :)
My Father God has unfolding love. His love never ever fails. “For God so loved the word that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16
Everyone’s story unfolds with the passage of time. New plot lines are introduced, old characters fade into the background, etc. What will time bring for your story?
Stories are always unfolding. Whether it be yours, your friends, or a strangers. The passage of time reveals all to us; good and bad. How your story unfolds, well, that’s up to you.
like a cheap tent he relapsed into another suns day and bent up got out of his pallet and walked despite his declaiming it as any sort of Samuel Beckett miracle
Unfolding all of my summer clothes was kind of a let down. On one hand, it was nice to finally be able to break out my summer clothes. On the other hand, I had never really put them away. They had been sitting out, sprawled out all over my big chair, all fall and winter. They had been taunting me. Was it really a joyous occasion to hang them up? Or was it just simply a relief?
I watch as the events start unfolding before my eyes. My little brother was held at knifepoint while my mother was choking on her own vomit. I didn’t know how to save them.
All it takes is one word to start a fight or to solve a problem. One word can make a difference. If is the the right word all turns out well. If it is the wrong word, you could start world war 3.
The forest was unusually quiet. Jason had the distinct feeling he was being watched. He moved forward slowly, as silently as he could. He thought about Sarah’s warning that she felt something evil in these trees. Now he wished he’d listened instead of laughing at her. Something evil was unfolding around him. He felt it.
hands unfolding
a truth known only to a select few
words that sound like honey
antediluvian but somehow avant-garde
that’s the way with truth sometimes, somehow.
and somehow it is both the bane and the happy destiny of the world
(or the people in it)
to be shielded (as it were) from this all-knowing truth,
more or less.
unfolding light
and outpouring raindrops.
what’s really funny is the things people will believe when they really want to.
but i do not mean to say i am excluded from this.
because just this morning i convinced myself i could afford a new set of paints.
i cannot.
it was all unfolding my plan has failed. it was all so perfect,grab the gun and shoot. The gun didnt shoot. im dead. i fucking died. oh well you shouldve seen the other guy
i mean he wen tot hell.
Unfolding the letter that was inside the envelope was always so exciting and she couldn’t do it fast enough and not rip the paper. They had been writing letters to each other for a long time now and she looked forward to each one, but this one especially because she had said her last letter that, yes, she’d like to meet him in person. This letter contained the where and when.
she unfolded the small paper cranes
one after another after the other.
when asked why, she responded
it was because they wouldn’t fly.
she let go of her unreachable dreams,
one after another after another.
when asked why, she responded
it was because she was flightless,
just like those hopeless paper cranes
She was unfolding the laundry. Odd thing to do, isn’t it? But he needed to start helping. He was… essentially useless. She made enough money to support herself, and all he did was sit around her apartment, playing video games and napping all day. So there she stood, in his bedroom, unfolding all of his clothes. Every. Last. Piece.
She laid the shirt on the bed, straightening out the hem at the bottom. She frowned at the bloodstain that marred the blue and green paisley pattern over the left breast pocket. It would be hard to explain this one to her dry cleaners.
Unfolding my clothes, a knock comes at the door. My heart stops. They have finally come for me. If they take me, there is no way I can come back. Where can I hide? The panel behind the bed leads to a nearby quarry. I will run for my life.
She opened herself up at the moment when the last of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. She began peeling herself open, like a book opening. Layers of herself extended and flaked off. Other festival-goers began to pause and look down at her, the curled form on the grass, pulling at her skin with steady fingernails.
First came flesh. It peeled off like a beetle shell. Beneath, she was silver like unrippled water. She lifted the layers away, and they stretched out across the ground. Beneath the silver, she was gold and black and starlight. The crowd watched wide-eyed. She pulled at the starlight and it unfurled like a great sail, billowing up in the dusk air. Flesh and silver and gold and black loomed up into the sky like a great sheet of colour, and she let it pull the last of her body up away from the ground and away into the last fading patch of light.
the thought was unfolding in his mind, just as the world was, it seemed. Where could he go from here that would not lead to disaster? He just couldn’t work out what to do, or how!
A small paper fell from the book when Therese opened it. She picked it up and carefully unfolded it. Inside was a short note. Short but enough to make her skin crawl.
The chaos was unfolding, faster than my laundry. Everywhere I looked, people were out on their porches, burning their stuff. They were yelling at their cats; they were letting their dogs run loose.. everywhere.
Like a flower, like a book, like a great ream of silk, it opened– it rolled, like a wave of sea water. He felt it collapsing within his ribs; opening, closing, opening again… a great roiling truth that had been loosed, never again to be overlooked or forgotten.
The future had been unhooked. The possibility of tomorrows had been promised, all at once, in a rush like something gold and rich and sharply cold. Life was unfolding, unfolding, like a toy in a child’s hands, like a heart coiled up into itself, like a butterfly burst forth from the womb of death.
There was a glow on the horizon, a great crescendo of jubilant roses, and it would never fall again.
folding clothes
my mom wants me to
but all i can think about
is my brain
slowly
slowly
unfolding itself
how can i fold clothes
when i am falling apart
slowly
slowly
unfolding
thought by thought
Unfolding it is a difficult word to write about, I am not even sure what the meaning is LOL. Opposite of folding? Maybe the baby is unfolding the laundry? No idea!
unfolding the little paper fortune teller to see a number inside. moving your fingertips together and apart that many times. unfolding the laundry that he folded so you can fold it again the right way. wondering what you could find out about your future. folding a shirt into a tiny rectangle.
Ellie stared at the heart, now completely unfolded. “is… Is this what you do?” She asked the scientist standing above her. “Yes. Now that you know, you’re sworn to secrecy, and you’re not allowed to leave.” The emotion on her face could only be read as horrified. W-What?
The little girl was folding and unfolding her napkin, putting it on her lap and then taking it off, tucking in the corners and then tugging them back out. She seemed nervous, fidgety, under the shadow of who I assumed to be her father. Her father wore boots as black as his beard, which almost tickled the belly part of his plaid shirt. He grunted over the lip of his beer and did not speak much, and all his child kept doing was contorting the napkin until it, predictably, began to tear.
She began unfolding the thin paper letter that she found in the attic. It was a love letter that her great grandfather had sent to her great grandmother years ago. She studied the letter with fascination. The worn, creased edges and the faint coffee brown patina. It was as beautiful as they were.
The paper crinkled as the child unfolded and refolded it over and over again, realizing little gasps of frustration each time. She didn’t know how to make a damn paper swan or frog or anything for that matter so she just settled on folding the little white square into smaller little white squares, hoping the timer would finally go off already. This was her 3rd time being pulled out of class for “Testing” and she was completely over it.
It was a chair. It unfolded, it folded. It was carried.
People sat in it. Regard it thoughtfully. Regarded the world around them thoughtfully.
It was a chair made for the weekend or just getting out of the office for a breath of fresh air.
But perhaps not this weekend. Maybe not even next, nor the one after that. Depending on the unfolding of events…maybe never again. Things were changing, which meant even chairs had to change too. Perhaps it’s for the best, since possibilities open like a blanket, spread upon the grass, or elsewhere on some stretch of earth, like sand. Or maybe they stay chairs. Maybe it’s in a constant state of flux. I guess its all in the outlook. Is there progression and variation, or must it always be static somewhere.
To be born with more autonomy than a folding chair, seems like a blessing, right?
unfolding
prudently paced
verdicts
night’s charm
upon your arm
sailing to unnamed
places
“And then you take this sheet and pull it through this hole, and you’ve finished unfolding the beautiful crane!”
“Um… Miss Wormwood? Why are we learning how to *destroy* an origami construction, instead of, you know, folding it?”
“You don’t know? Destructive maintenance is all the rage these days. This will be on your midterm.”
let the same thing reappear, let my decisions be wiser this time
and as the song we again will hear, let the music be sublime
let me taste the cool spring water
let the light of day begin
to make us warmer to the other
and bring the truth of the world on in
Doyle watched the drama unfolding in front of him on the television screen. This was a news channel, but what he was seeing could not be real. The President had just deposed a State Governor, and taken unilateral control of the state. Even with the riots, the long standing corruption, and now the death of the Governor by his own hand, calling this an essential response to a “Clear and Present Danger” was stretching the fabric of the law too far. If it did not tear, it would at least leak. Doyle picked up the phone and tried to call Washington. He had to stop this before it got too far, but he knew it already had. This was not how they had agreed to proceed. The whole plan was in jeopardy.
I must remain passive to the unfolding of our love. My hands are not involved. Only this heart, which bears the burden and responsibility of millions of years of origami, and I’m kind of attached to the way it has formed.
Folding the laundry was the only way to really get away from the children. She’d go downstairs, and begin the ritual. It took her mind to another state, sometimes even far away countries. So she didn’t hear or smell the burning chaos of her ten year old’s microwave experiments.
I saw the beautiful piece of cloth, unfolding from the hands of the two men. On it was embroidered a picture of me and my love. I still have that cloth, and it is one of the things I hold dearest.
Her life was unfolding at a faster rate now it seemed. She was getting older, and time flew as this wheel of life spun before her.
The time was finally coming. We would walk across that stage, be handed a piece of paper, and four years will have come to and end. Our futures were unfolding in front of us, as we chose to be the future doctors, lawyers, or politicians of the world.
The thought unfolding in his head disturbed him. Who was she really, and why had she turned up in his life now? With all the s**t happening, now was the most unusual time for anyone to approach him, and in the way she had, that just screamed of planning, but the planning of who, and why?
I am unfolding my shirt as i get ready in the morning and notice there is a stain i havent spotted before. My washing machine is not working well, i must go to the dry cleaners next time :)
My Father God has unfolding love. His love never ever fails. “For God so loved the word that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16
Everyone’s story unfolds with the passage of time. New plot lines are introduced, old characters fade into the background, etc. What will time bring for your story?
Stories are always unfolding. Whether it be yours, your friends, or a strangers. The passage of time reveals all to us; good and bad. How your story unfolds, well, that’s up to you.
like a cheap tent he relapsed into another suns day and bent up got out of his pallet and walked despite his declaiming it as any sort of Samuel Beckett miracle
Unfolding all of my summer clothes was kind of a let down. On one hand, it was nice to finally be able to break out my summer clothes. On the other hand, I had never really put them away. They had been sitting out, sprawled out all over my big chair, all fall and winter. They had been taunting me. Was it really a joyous occasion to hang them up? Or was it just simply a relief?
I watch as the events start unfolding before my eyes. My little brother was held at knifepoint while my mother was choking on her own vomit. I didn’t know how to save them.
All it takes is one word to start a fight or to solve a problem. One word can make a difference. If is the the right word all turns out well. If it is the wrong word, you could start world war 3.
The forest was unusually quiet. Jason had the distinct feeling he was being watched. He moved forward slowly, as silently as he could. He thought about Sarah’s warning that she felt something evil in these trees. Now he wished he’d listened instead of laughing at her. Something evil was unfolding around him. He felt it.
hands unfolding
a truth known only to a select few
words that sound like honey
antediluvian but somehow avant-garde
that’s the way with truth sometimes, somehow.
and somehow it is both the bane and the happy destiny of the world
(or the people in it)
to be shielded (as it were) from this all-knowing truth,
more or less.
unfolding light
and outpouring raindrops.
what’s really funny is the things people will believe when they really want to.
but i do not mean to say i am excluded from this.
because just this morning i convinced myself i could afford a new set of paints.
i cannot.
it was all unfolding my plan has failed. it was all so perfect,grab the gun and shoot. The gun didnt shoot. im dead. i fucking died. oh well you shouldve seen the other guy
i mean he wen tot hell.
Unfolding the letter that was inside the envelope was always so exciting and she couldn’t do it fast enough and not rip the paper. They had been writing letters to each other for a long time now and she looked forward to each one, but this one especially because she had said her last letter that, yes, she’d like to meet him in person. This letter contained the where and when.
she unfolded the small paper cranes
one after another after the other.
when asked why, she responded
it was because they wouldn’t fly.
she let go of her unreachable dreams,
one after another after another.
when asked why, she responded
it was because she was flightless,
just like those hopeless paper cranes
She was unfolding the laundry. Odd thing to do, isn’t it? But he needed to start helping. He was… essentially useless. She made enough money to support herself, and all he did was sit around her apartment, playing video games and napping all day. So there she stood, in his bedroom, unfolding all of his clothes. Every. Last. Piece.
She laid the shirt on the bed, straightening out the hem at the bottom. She frowned at the bloodstain that marred the blue and green paisley pattern over the left breast pocket. It would be hard to explain this one to her dry cleaners.
Unfolding my clothes, a knock comes at the door. My heart stops. They have finally come for me. If they take me, there is no way I can come back. Where can I hide? The panel behind the bed leads to a nearby quarry. I will run for my life.
She opened herself up at the moment when the last of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. She began peeling herself open, like a book opening. Layers of herself extended and flaked off. Other festival-goers began to pause and look down at her, the curled form on the grass, pulling at her skin with steady fingernails.
First came flesh. It peeled off like a beetle shell. Beneath, she was silver like unrippled water. She lifted the layers away, and they stretched out across the ground. Beneath the silver, she was gold and black and starlight. The crowd watched wide-eyed. She pulled at the starlight and it unfurled like a great sail, billowing up in the dusk air. Flesh and silver and gold and black loomed up into the sky like a great sheet of colour, and she let it pull the last of her body up away from the ground and away into the last fading patch of light.
the thought was unfolding in his mind, just as the world was, it seemed. Where could he go from here that would not lead to disaster? He just couldn’t work out what to do, or how!
A small paper fell from the book when Therese opened it. She picked it up and carefully unfolded it. Inside was a short note. Short but enough to make her skin crawl.
“It will follow you home.”
The chaos was unfolding, faster than my laundry. Everywhere I looked, people were out on their porches, burning their stuff. They were yelling at their cats; they were letting their dogs run loose.. everywhere.
Like a flower, like a book, like a great ream of silk, it opened– it rolled, like a wave of sea water. He felt it collapsing within his ribs; opening, closing, opening again… a great roiling truth that had been loosed, never again to be overlooked or forgotten.
The future had been unhooked. The possibility of tomorrows had been promised, all at once, in a rush like something gold and rich and sharply cold. Life was unfolding, unfolding, like a toy in a child’s hands, like a heart coiled up into itself, like a butterfly burst forth from the womb of death.
There was a glow on the horizon, a great crescendo of jubilant roses, and it would never fall again.
folding clothes
my mom wants me to
but all i can think about
is my brain
slowly
slowly
unfolding itself
how can i fold clothes
when i am falling apart
slowly
slowly
unfolding
thought by thought
Unfolding it is a difficult word to write about, I am not even sure what the meaning is LOL. Opposite of folding? Maybe the baby is unfolding the laundry? No idea!
unfolding the little paper fortune teller to see a number inside. moving your fingertips together and apart that many times. unfolding the laundry that he folded so you can fold it again the right way. wondering what you could find out about your future. folding a shirt into a tiny rectangle.
Ellie stared at the heart, now completely unfolded. “is… Is this what you do?” She asked the scientist standing above her. “Yes. Now that you know, you’re sworn to secrecy, and you’re not allowed to leave.” The emotion on her face could only be read as horrified. W-What?
The little girl was folding and unfolding her napkin, putting it on her lap and then taking it off, tucking in the corners and then tugging them back out. She seemed nervous, fidgety, under the shadow of who I assumed to be her father. Her father wore boots as black as his beard, which almost tickled the belly part of his plaid shirt. He grunted over the lip of his beer and did not speak much, and all his child kept doing was contorting the napkin until it, predictably, began to tear.
She began unfolding the thin paper letter that she found in the attic. It was a love letter that her great grandfather had sent to her great grandmother years ago. She studied the letter with fascination. The worn, creased edges and the faint coffee brown patina. It was as beautiful as they were.
The story is leading us to a better place. A place that opens our mind and helps us grow personally and professionally. It’s exciting and scary, too.