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The FindIt was a sterling silver necklace Jane found after sifting through multiple gift shops, general stores, athletic depots; everything except the Internet—Ebay's the easiest and cheapest way to gift anyone I told her, but it’ll special to me so it’ll be special to you, she replied. She was enchanted by the way two flowered-shaped weights were interwoven together while holding their respective opposite ends of the necklace and made the necklace smaller when they were pulled in opposite directions. It was thin with dozens of tiny circular segments connected, like the chain mails of the knightly dragon slayers she always wrote about.The Find
by ~re4p3r1
SlideThe 100 miles explode To me, the aching sun ready, Set for, an impossibly unavoidable supernova In reminiscent and melodic dreams Of the guided daybreaks and night falls.Slide
The sun aches for centuries Of burning yearning In a starless night From the breath that once warmed.
“I ache for fiery,” She said, “But I will not relent or implode, Not as long as a warm breath Aches for me twice the fire.”
“I will ignite the sky and space,” I declare, “Though you must not. Do not shiver To reme
by ~re4p3r1
1973All it took was a Cultural Revolution and the collapse of a dam. That’s all it took, in that humid night of 1973, as was every night in Lanzhou during the rainy season, to cripple and give an aging engineer a cause to spend the rest of his life on.1973
All it took was three men—all of age 17 coincidentally—dying in a coal mine collapse in mid-January of 1973. Situated a few miles southwest of town, the mines are the solution and, on a flip of a coin, the abrupt end to needy young adults: financially and internally. Then came the new years celebrative and reflective mood, which brought a spirit of upheaval as unseasonab
by ~re4p3r1
The All-NighterDecember 17, a typical cold winter. The night before, it rained hard while I began and finished an essay for British Literature, my favorite class at Stanford University. I submitted the final draft to Professor Stein later that day. December 24, Christmas Eve, but also the day Professor Stein finished critiquing and grading my essay, he handed it back to me. I inhaled, my chest expanded violently, and my eyes bulged at the sight of the massive curve atop the paper. “Chained, cumbersome, cruel, contemptuous, corrupt, callous,” I thought. I became furious at the very sight of the serrated sickle, so enraged that I checkedThe All-Nighter
by ~re4p3r1
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