What Movies Would Be Like If They Used Common Sense (146 words)

“A case of undeniable truths.”

The briefcase sits on the concrete ledge. Polly stands over it, reading the inscription on the top of the case.

“Well?” Polly says. “Do we open it?”

Eric digs his left foot into the stones on the ground. He glances up nervously. “I’d rather not, honestly.”

Polly takes a step, her sandal-ed feet kicking up loose stones. She looks back at Eric, a finger in his mouth as he bites a nail off. “Wanna go and…eat something instead?”

Eric nods, sighing as Polly passes him. The smell of V5 vanilla shampoo smacking his nose.

He turns around when they hear a click. As Polly turns, Eric grabs her face and stares at her. His lips move slowly.

“Nooo,” he says dramatically, eyes pleading.

Before she can protest, he grabs her arm and heads to the roof door. The case remains untouched.

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A Brief Walk (179 words)

My shoes step onto the grass as I walk along the road.

I should have worn a different pair of pants. 

I wanted to look more mature today. The green pine trees alongside me change hues, from light to dark. The black tar road to my left shows off its highlighter yellow stripes. My shirt looks like the road. It’s too dark.

I should have gone with a brighter color. 

I look towards the tree tops. Orange, lime green, dark green, and brown—light brown. Maybe blue would have been better.

Ugh. I don’t know anymore. 

I scratch my head and trip a bit on the loose ground. A car passes by. I tried to look good for picture day today.

I hope it came out okay.

The road curves and I walk on the edge between the tar and the dirt ground.

I wonder what the picture will look like. I glance at a huge pine tree ahead. It’s bark nearly invisible, guarded by the foliage—but the tip—it’s higher than any in the wood.

I wanted to look older.

 

College Rush (175 words)

I’ve got the runs.

I’m moving around in my chair, just waiting to be released from class. All I can think is I’ve gotta get outta here!

I’ve got places to go man, people to see. And this class is a total joke. Let me out!

I’ve got the runs.

The sad fact is I’m not very fast, but I keep moving from building to building, Never too far from home of course. I like to keep close to where I live.

I’ve gotta get to this meeting! I need to be there at twelve, then an advisory meeting at one on the other side of campus.  Not to mention I’ve got five minutes to eat, then hall counsel at one-twenty, and tutoring at three.

I listen to my professor, he’s the background noise to my anxious staring at the clock.

Tick-Tock. Blah, blah, blah.

Tick -Tock. Womp, womp, waaa…

There goes the clock. I’ve gotta move fast. No time for breaks or jokes. I’m on the move.

“Get out of the way!”

Side thought (252 words)

And he jumps from the bungee-cord off the bridge! Oh my god, what a sight!
“It’s totally fake, you know. It’s all CGI. There’s no way he actually jumped.” Maggie pulls my shirt to get my attention as she chews her cold pizza slice. The television is on it highest volume, which is about as loud as a normal person talking. CRTs are so out of style.
Maggie lounges on our couch, while I lean on the side smoking a Cheyenne; I love the taste of grape in a puff.
“What do you think, Ashe?” Maggie tugs on my shirt again. My roommate is a little on the ditsy side, but she’s good people.
He’s made it down! Wait…And he’s back in the air. Oh my God! He’s doing somersault’s! Is this guy great, or what?
Some guy’s on a bridge somewhere jumping off of it for the joy and exhilaration for us viewers. The sweet movement of air against his face and the adrenaline rush of the drop, the fall of a lifetime. The angles just twist and turn with every movement, his perspective, their perspective—back and forth.
I look down at her, consider the question as I blow out the misty grape goodness of my Cheyenne. I watch the way the smoke swirls, and I blow a little into the smoke, to watch it swirl. Glorious. I take another drag. I watch the first puff dissipate slowly.
 “What do you think air tastes like when you fall?”©

Beautiful World (242 words)

“I got a letter in the mail today, from her parents. It was allabout how they hoped I’d burn in hell, that good stuff. They wrote about how pretty her eyes were, how kind she was, how many friends she had; man it was a long letter.”

My therapist looks at me, cocking her head to the side with a smirk, muttering, “That’s about right.”

She clears her throat and asks more clearly, “And you feel nothing? Not even remorse?”

I smile widely at her doing my best to seem authentic. “I think I’ve cried enough, Doc, don’t you?”

I fold up the letter and catch a glimpse of a single word: forgiven.

I finish, calmly placing it into my jumper pocket. Doc wants to see me burn, I can tell from the way she looks at her notes, that gleam in her eyes when she looks back at me.

“I see.” She writes on her notepad, glancing at me. And there’s that twinkle in her eyes again. “This is your last evaluation before sentencing, Sophie. Do you want to share anything else with me?”

My smile disappears as the guard comes for me. The bags under my eyes are heavy from the long nights up, watching my rapist roommate.

“We both know they’ll give me the needle, Doc. It won’t change anything.”

Eight months ago I killed Maggie Crowley. I guess you could say we were friends.

For the love of a Child (488 words)

A man, early twenties, sun tanned and dull-eyed lies on the hospital bed, staring out of a closed window at the sunny, light-blue sky.

“The damage to James’ spine was too extensive to repair, especially with his weak heart.” Dr. Sanchez flips through his charts. “According to the police officer he was driving over eighty-five miles an hour and rear-ended another driver. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s even alive.”

The hospital door creaks open and a young woman, brunette peeks slowly into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” Mr. Morgans bellows.

“I wanted to see him. I’m sorry, just please let me see him!” Analese tries to make her way to James’ bedside, but Mr. Morgans grabs her by the wrist, squeezing as he drags her out into the hall.

“Please, I have to explain Morgans—you have to let me explain about the baby, please.”

“It’s Mr. Morgans, for the millionth time! How the hell do you expect to speak to him now anyway? You little bitch! If you hadn’t gone near my son like I told you to none of this would happened!” Mr. Morgans stands over Analese at his full six-foot-five, broad shoulders heaving.

Analese holds her hands up, palms out in front of her chest, as if to keep him away. “Mr. Morgans, I never meant for any of this to happen I swear to you, I loved James, despite what you think of me. I didn’t expect to end up with him when I first started volunteering here. I didn’t expect to get pregnant either, but it happened. Please Mr. Morgans, even if you don’t like me I need to see him.”

“Have you fuckin’ lost it!?” Morgans stares down at the young woman, dark circles under his eyes. “Not now, not ever. I don’t care how much you say you care for him. James already had a bad heart condition, trouble keeping up at school, and then you come around and fill his head with nonsense, get pregnant and for what? So your boyfriend can go and harass him wherever James went? You stupid, filthy whore!”

Mr. Morgans chest heaves as he snatches up Analese’ neck and holds tight. “You brought hell into our lives and you think you can come around and ask to see him?” Mr. Morgans leans in closer. “He stole my car, Analese! He stole it, and drove after your boyfriend in that stupid red Mitsubishi after he found out he was the one who hit you. And now that boy is dead and James is paralyzed from the neck down.”

“It wasn’t like that Morgans, please!” Analese chokes out, trying to pry his hands loose.

James continues to stare out that window, unable to make sense of what’s going on outside of room. He just keeps looking for something red. Not knowing why, only that it has to burn. ©