Category Archives: 1989

Fear

I spin in circles, wider and wider, my arms spread out and my eyes closed. I spin, letting the movement caress me. The wind blows through my hair and I laugh. A real laugh, not one of the ones we … Continue reading

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The War

The latest skirmish in the war happened in the French room. I didn’t see the victim get hit, I just saw the broken glass. The troops looked at each other; they knew that I wouldn’t tell. As the bell rang, … Continue reading

Posted in 1989, short story, unthemed | Tagged | 2 Comments

Dawn

There was a grey, dark sky beyond the stone chimney of the next house. Dewdrops glistened not only on the trees, but also on the panes of glass, and even the asphalt street. It was so cold you could see … Continue reading

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North Wind

She sat on the cold, grey rock; a ship in the vast sea of brown grass. Dead leaves tumbled in the wind, viciously scattered without hope. Despairing, they settled on the ground, only to be stirred up again without regard, … Continue reading

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Silence

Then we were told that we should sit in silence, but that each individual could leave whenever she wanted. So we sat. And it was so peaceful with the twittering of birds surrounding us, no matter where you go in … Continue reading

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Nonentity

I stand above you, looking down. I know you can not see me. I am a nameless, faceless shadow standing in brightness: the sun. You can not see the expression on my face, nor can you imagine it. You know … Continue reading

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“Life” on a Russian Metro

A starch-fed elderly woman sits, forehead bloodied, eyes swollen shut. No one sits next to her, although people are standing. Her head bobs to the beat of travel. In her folded hands, smashed against her lap, day old flowers begin … Continue reading

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Memory

It was a dream, or maybe deja vu. It was more like a memory than anything else. I had forgotten all about him. He was one of those things you swear you won’t forget, but you do anyhow. One moment, … Continue reading

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Entrance

A pale silver shaft of the moon tumbled down through my window unable to climb back home because of the dancing snow. I took the poor piece in my arms, as if to keep it warm. We kept each other … Continue reading

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Bombs

A mushroom turning bright orange and red rises up through the sky. Night. Stars. Pinpoints of light being blotted out one by one. Guns. Bombs. Communism. Socialism. Death. It isn’t darkness that puts out the stars, it’s light. Hiroshima, Nagusaki, … Continue reading

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