20 Things Rowan Must Not Do by usernames-are-a-drag, literature
Literature
20 Things Rowan Must Not Do
As decreed by Miguel Stone, Nadine Mann, reluctantly Shimon Siskin and Seline Stone, who would not stop laughing
1.
Rowan must not: pour ink all over Miguel's newspaper; make paper men out Miguel's newspaper and string them across the office and claim that it's International Paper Men Day; wrap fish and chips in Miguel's newspaper; use Miguel's newspaper as a pillow; and he definitely must not eat Miguel's newspaper, no matter how similar the taste is to muesli.
2.
Rowan must no try to pick a fight with Nadine. We all know who'll win, and that ugly mug of his doesn't need any more smashing.
3.
Rowan must not eat all of Shimon's ice cre
The Collectors by usernames-are-a-drag, literature
Literature
The Collectors
Fires danced in the distance, over the dark, bloodstained battlefield. The flames cast silhouettes, blacker than the night, across the smoking plain which seemed to glow eerily in the moonlight, the dead bodies stark and bare, white as bone.
General Nadine stood at the parapet, a leather-clad arm wrapped around a splintery wooden beam, the other grasping her bow. They still attacked sometimes, the enemy. In the dead of night while everyone slept, they sent sprays of flaming arrows and cannon fire. Many of her soldiers died in their sleep, but not in the peaceful way of the sick and the elderly. Others woke to very real nightmares, screaming
I am surrounded by waves
Constantly crashing,
Submerging me in their
Green tinged darkness
White crested walls of
Ice cold poison
Coming to consume me,
To drown me in deafening silence
Sometimes I see the land
And its sunny yellow shore
And I feel so close yet am so far away,
Trapped in this watery wasteland
And I could reach out and call for the lifeguards
In their sun yellow and earth red
But that would mean first surrendering myself
To the ocean
i used to wish on rainbows by usernames-are-a-drag, literature
Literature
i used to wish on rainbows
i used to wish on rainbows
when the sun would peek out of its covers
and shining droplets would run down the foggy car windows
and the vibrant colours would cross the sky
i'd clasp my hands
and pray
I remember when you used to sit and talk to me, in the afternoon as the golden sun swam through the kitchen window and lit up your face and the tiny puffs of acrid smoke that escaped your lips. You'd talk about how you wished you'd painted the peeling blue shutters green, because that was Dan's favourite colour, and maybe he'd have hung around longer. And I'd tell you that a colour wouldn't have stopped him from running off with that girl, and you'd rest your cheek on your fist and look out into the garden, wondering if he was out there somewhere and if he was thinking of you.
I remember when you'd come home from work, from the silent office