50 word story entry

There is a place, where no one cries. Depression is chased away by laughter in the ultimate heaven of all. Humanity is not greedy, but hopeful, and strangers care for strangers without incentives such as sex, drugs, or family connections. If there is such a place, where is it hiding?

It's the smooth feel of silk against her skin, until the silk feels rough.
It's the sweet taste of milk chocolate, until the chocolate tastes bitter.
It's the clean scent of a rain shower, until the rain causes the earth to rot.
She sighs, unsure if she wants it anymore.

Fwd: 50 word story entry

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Ms. Schembs;
Date: Thu, May 15, 2008 at 2:42 PM
Subject: 50 word story entry
To: Xxxxx Xxxxxxxxx;

A monkey walks into a bar. Looks around, sees a giraffe. Walks up to the giraffe and says, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The giraffe just stares. So the monkey kicks him in the shin. Giraffe falls over and dies. Monkey picks him up and walks out.

Just so you know...

This is the paper I work at.
Staffer Mr. Anderson turned in a story about the City Council of K-town considering an ordinance concerning pit bull dogs. The story he submitted to editors did not mention Michael Vick at all. The A-1 designer/editor cut out a photograph of a pit bull and placed it next to the headline, "Vick-timized." He then inserted this sentence to the end of the third graph of the story—
"... Also, the issue has seen increased visibility since Michael Vick's arrest last year." [Print edition]
—in order to make the headline have some illusion of a connection to the story.
Stuff like this flies all the time, just so you know.
I understand that the job of a designer is to make stories appealing — it's my job; it's what I do! But this, to me, was absolutely tasteless.
Dissent? Concurrence? Anybody?

The End?

You know what?
It's time for yet another hiatus.
This time, however, check in for sporadic posts. ... Maybe not.
Go ahead anyway.
But don't get your hopes up.
Hey! in the meantime, why not check out the links.
They're great.
Or, better yet, post a story for yourself.
You know that you desire this so very much.
Yes! follow your heart's desire.
Dip your toe in. See how it feels. Yes! slide into it.
It's not so cold.
Actually kinda warm.
Yes! feel the words press against your naked skin, hold your breath and sink a bit further, realize that the words have control of your limbs, observe the spectacle of colors calling from the letters' depths, as the light of the moon beams through the breakers of the waves, surface in ectacy under a clear star-filled sky and stark-white beach, and your vision a bit blurry can detect your words coming near with intent, slip around the waves and against you, taste your lips, your skin, and sink with you...
Submit!

A call from an old friend, Ms. Amur, capped a slightly nostalgic handful of days. Her voicemail immediately projected me back to drunken walks in CoMo, birdfilled sunset lounging, conversations of social control and societal optimism, her humor surprising me constantly, and love.
I miss you friend.
That is all.

"Today, one of his coworkers picks up and leaves for a town south of here that he likes very much.
'Good luck,' he says.
She says something generic, as usual.
He wishes he could still pick up and leave. He is officially a bonafide square now.
He types it now."