The kids were loud.

They were way too loud for Jerry, especially since this was a
four-hour flight. The parents didn't seem to be able, or simply didn't want, to
control them. They were yelling and fighting among themselves and it was impossible
for any of the passengers to concentrate or rest. He thought about politely tapping
on the parents' shoulders and asking them to try and get their kids under a bit
more control, but before he did he came up with a better idea. Sure, it was a bit
sinister, and he'd probably end p in a lot of trouble, but he really didn't care at
that point.
The shoes had been there for as long as anyone could remember. In fact, it was
difficult for anyone to come up with a date they had first appeared. It had seemed
they'd always been there and yet they seemed so out of place. Why nobody had
removed them was a question that had been asked time and again, but while they all
thought it, nobody had ever found the energy to actually do it. So, the shoes
remained on the steps, out of place in one sense, but perfectly normal in another.
The leather jacked showed the scars of being his favorite for years. It wore those
scars with pride, feeling that they enhanced his presence rather than diminishing
it. The scars gave it character and had not overwhelmed to the point that it had
become ratty. The jacket was in its prime and it knew it.
The red ball sat proudly at the top of the toybox. It had been the last to be
played with and anticipated it would be the next as well. The other toys grumbled
beneath. At one time each had held the spot of the red ball, but over time they had
sunk deeper and deeper into the toy box.
Brock would have never dared to do it on his own he thought to himself. That is why
Kenneth and he had become such good friends. Kenneth forced Brock out of his
comfort zone and made him try new things he'd never imagine doing otherwise. Up to
this point, this had been a good thing. It had expanded Brock's experiences and
given him a new appreciation for life. Now that both of them were in the back of a
police car, all Brock could think was that he would have never dared do it except
for the influence of Kenneth.
Dragons don't exist they said. They are the stuff of legend and people's
imagination. Greg would have agreed with this assessment without a second thought
24 hours ago. But now that there was a dragon staring directly into his eyes, he
questioned everything that he had been told.
At that moment, she realized that she had created her current life. It wasn't the
life she wanted, but she took responsibility for how it currently stood. Something
clicked and she saw that every choice she made to this point in her life had led to
where her life stood at this very moment even if she knew this wasn't where she
wanted to be. She determined to choose to change it.
She counted. One. She could hear the steps coming closer. Two. Puffs of breath
could be seen coming from his mouth. Three. He stopped beside her. Four. She pulled
the trigger of the gun.
Pink ponies and purple giraffes roamed the field. Cotton candy grew from the ground
as a chocolate river meandered off to the side. What looked like stones in the
pasture were actually rock candy. Everything in her dream seemed to be perfect
except for the fact that she had no mouth.
It seemed like it should have been so simple. There was nothing inherently
difficult with getting the project done. It was simple and straightforward enough
that even a child should have been able to complete it on time, but that wasn't the
case. The deadline had arrived and the project remained unfinished.
It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have
never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about
to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen
came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.
It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create
a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They
decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been
cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum
long enough to create a random short story.
The cab arrived late. The inside was in as bad of shape as the outside which was
concerning, and it didn't appear that it had been cleaned in months. The green tree
air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror was either exhausted of its scent or
not strong enough to overcome the other odors emitting from the cab. The correct
decision, in this case, was to get the hell out of it and to call another cab, but
she was late and didn't have a choice.
It was just a burger. Why couldn't she understand that? She knew he'd completely
changed his life around her eating habits, so why couldn't she give him a break
this one time? She wasn't even supposed to have found out. Yes, he had promised her
and yes, he had broken that promise, but still in his mind, all it had been was
just a burger.
It wasn't that he hated her. It was simply that he didn't like her much. It was
difficult for him to explain this to her, and even more difficult for her to truly
understand. She was in love and wanted him to feel the same way. He didn't, and no
matter how he tried to explain to her she refused to listen or to understand.