Now Then, Moving On...

   "Class, a visual artist's inspiration is fueled by one's innermost passion, yet before any pen or brush stroke can effectively be made, every artist must first learn how to see.
   "That is where the beauty of art is stored--in the keen eye of the fervent artist."
   David raised a hand, "Professor?"
   Turning from the slide, "Yes?"
   "...That's two stick figures jerking off."
   "Two cavemen stick figures, strictly speaking."

The Ceiling Made of Glass

   The concrete tunnel of stairs went up and up and up, MJ's outstretched hand pulled her along the cold metal railing while her black pumps echoed around her with a slow, monotonous thud.  
   Why did I wear these shoes today?  she thought.  And all for nothing.
   Her conservative two-piece suit was the expected attire of any serious New York businesswoman.  
   I don't think I'll ever reach the top.

Dicks

   There was once a time when everything made sense.
   "You are a real sonuvabitch, you know that?"
   I couldn't tell you what changed.  And I couldn't tell you why either.
   "How the hell could you let this happen?"
   "Honestly," I said.  "It wasn't my fault."
   "Like Hell It Wasn't!"
   I can't say that I can totally disagree.
   But I can try.
   "Everything happened all at once--"
   "She was Drunk!"

A Whole New You

   No matter how hard he fought, he knew how it would all end.  He would be dead.  Another would take his place as husband, father, and soldier.  There would be no alternative.
   This had been his greatest battle.
   Blood soaked the white sheets as doctors whirled around him in a blur.
   As parts of his body were carried away and replaced, he smiled tightly.
   Soon he would be gone.

The Games We Play

   The irritation began soon after the young girl washed her hands in a creek and dried them with poison ivy leaves.  The itching spread with every scrape of her nail into a rash.
   Her mother thought nothing of it.
   "Just quit scratching and it'll go away," she said.
   Soon after, the girl's hands and throat began to swell.
   A little boy ran to the girl's mother and shouted, "I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!  It was just a joke.  I didn't mean it."
   No vehicle could drive fast enough.