an image, still life. if one misses out on life, and doesn’t absorb every beauty in it, one would be amiss and die unhappy.
steve
how much longer am I allowed to run away from my problems before they capture me? I’m cutting it so close. Each time the stakes get high or problems arise I sprint as fast as I can. Close my eyes and just sprint. What will help me stand in place next time?
The story of the serial killer played out on the evening news like a movie–the car chase, the stand off, and finally the shoot out. Police, reporters, bystanders; there were so many witnesses. But in the end, four people were dead–including the murderer–and no one knew why.
I looked around again. I couldn’t really help it. I was in a cage. A literal, made-of-steel-bars cage. This kind of thing really only happened in the movies, right? Cartoons and all. Not in real life and certainly not to me.
We had a big rat in the learning street at our school!!! We tried to capture it or kill it with a broom! But no luck!!!
michaela
I love writing and I’ve recently discovered a passion for drawing. I love to capture moments that most people miss. That secret smile between lovers, the brush of a hand between a husband and wife, the glint of mischief between sisters. That’s part of the reason I love photography so much. You get to steal time, take those moments and put them in a jar, holding them forever, frozen and unchanging so you can look back at them and smile at the purity of that one captured moment.
They tell you the anticipation is the best part. Right now, I’m not so sure.
Jazz
John shifted on the cold stone chair, keeping his rear end from going numb. It was perfectly pleasant out, a light breeze blowing through Sherlock’s curls as John eyed the board. He rested his chin in his fingertips in a subconscious imitation of Sherlock’s thinking pose.
They had gone for a walk, as there was nothing more pressing that needed to be done, and the rare opportunity of perfect weather had tempted John to finally leave the house after the last few days, where he and Sherlock had hardly done anything work-related at all. They needed a case, and badly. In the meantime, though, John had dragged Sherlock out into the sun to see if the pale shut-in might be able to absorb some ultraviolet light. They’d meandered slowly through the park until coming to a small paved area near a fountain. Several benches and tables littered the area, some occupied by more elderly couples, silently enjoying the weather as they passed the time with chess. John, already knowing he would lose, invited Sherlock to a game. The detective huffed a small laugh and conceded, settling down naturally behind the small black pieces carved from a heavy stone. John slid in behind the white, and had to find a small rock to replace one of his missing pawns.
Finally, after a long and brutal battle (John was trying his very best, much to Sherlock’s amusement), John found himself pinned between two choices. He could advance this pawn (the rock, no less), one of only two remaining, and promote it to a queen. Or he could use his knight to capture Sherlock’s queen. After much deliberation, he chose the latter. A smug smirk no longer even crossed his face, as he had become far too accustomed to Sherlock’s immediate retaliations.
Sherlock made a swift move with his rook and took John’s knight, probably having had this all planned out five steps in advance. “Check mate,” he purred with a grin, “But a valiant effort on your part, John, really. Well done.” John had to keep himself from grinning at the complement.
Scooting out from behind the table, he stood and stretched as Sherlock politely reset the board for the next visitors. John reached out when the chore was finished, and grasped the slender fingers in a warm squeeze, leading the man of massive, superior intellect back home.
They couldn’t captivate me with their biceps, buns, and chests. I was better than them even if my physique did not compare. I could do things they try to brush off, because when they release the lions, all the strength in the world couldn’t hold them back. But it didn’t take all the speed or endurance I had to outrun them.
the kidnapper managed to capure her even after she ran away. He called her home and told her parents that he had captured her and was holding her for ransom. She wanted to be let go but she was being held captive against her will.
jeiyanni hollings
to capture a moment, in it’s essence. The array of the sunset’s colors the warmth of it’s glow. The joy, passion, heat of the moment. The friendship, the present. What is and what will be. A moment is fleeting, and our memories try best to capture as many pieces as possible. But we’ll never be here again.
Its not easy to capture all the details of something. Sometimes all that we can hope for is to recall the feelings. The situations. The emotions. Those things are indelible. Those are the nuances that we come to miss. Not the definitions.
To capture ones dream before it flees from ones present mind – into the realm of the subconsciousness, the realm of dreams where all bear the same faces stripped of features and everything is liquid and in constant transformation. In greeting the subconsciousness by shaking his hand, reality will lose its grasp – for it will turn into nothingness.
Standing atop the peak of the building, both arms stretched out in the air, with the wind blowing smoothly upon his face and the sun shining on his cheeks, the smell of new plant growth in his nostrils. This, he knew, is where he belonged. Despite all of his continual quirkiness, he didn’t feel as captured anymore. He could just exist and be satisfied.
The kids were still outside. It was a lovely night, why shouldn’t they be? Be something in the way they stalked the fireflies, toying with them and hurting them unintentionally, made Maria shutter. The poor creatures were captured by grubby hands and shuffled into jars they were doomed to die in. It’s funny how sad children can make you.
capture the moment, the memory of this day. Remember the things that made you smile and even the ones that put a frown on your face. Capture it with the camera in your head, never let that go.
I stopped and looked up at the rest of the winding stairs above. The shadows and the lights and the dust that reminded be of fairies and the lines captivated me. Suddenly it was over, the moment of unexpected beauty, as the other student pushed passed me in ignorance.
I run. Thinking is it enough to simply run from it, should i be worried about other things. For instance I could hide, I could fight, I could run. Running that is all I can do. I pause and listen and that is when it happens. I am captured.
Colton Laird
When I think of capture, I see cameras and a lovely photographer behind it, he has a bigger smile than I do and all he wants to do in life is make me smile and capture it with his camera.
Zy
capturing him by the resonating light was my favourite thing to do. back then when we knew love, when we sensed it, when we knew how to live…
Perhaps the most stereotypical thing she felt was lost. The photo showed it all. Her blank stare into the camera told a million stories. Her emotion had been captured perfectly. Her true emotion on her wedding day was something she had hoped to keep hidden.
you’ve captured my truth. you’ve captured my vulnerability. this is why i’ve built up these walls we’ve so intimately implied of tearing down, for fear of reality kicking in leading you to believe i am more ugly then i let on. and now i am captured in my self pity for the mystery is gone, and my stupidly romantic self still hopes for a happy ending when in reality i’m not made out for happy endings.
i only wish you could capture this heartache as well.
He tried to capture the setting sun, he had set up his camera and waited patiently with just enough excitement for the sun to set and just as he was about to click he wife cam into frame “coffee ?” she asked.
kim
I stood naked in frot of that tall blonde boy. He captured my total vulnerability and I was stunned. This is not how one is supposed to become intimate with the opposite sex, de-robing in a public poolside restroom.
When i think about capture I think about something taking a picture and capturing the moment. I also think about when I was a kid and played capture the flag with friends and neighbors.
Jessica Kanz
Capture was not an option for me. I couldn’t affored to be held against my will. I had to save my family. Free them from their own capture. The men who had taken them, stole them away from me, would now die. Their deaths will not be quick.
They will know what it feels like to be captured. To be beaten and tortured. I will avenge my families capture. And if they are dead, their captors will be tortured that much more. And that is why I must avoid capture at all costs.
Chellie
You say you read people like you read books, and I say ‘sure’ because I know you don’t read books either.
Capture my heart and enrich my soul.
Create me a world with fortunes untold.
Lavish me with love and sell me a dream.
Give me the life where we embrace for eternity.
Desiree
Erika had gotten good at avoiding capture.
Her parents were evolving just as she did, of course, and so they were becoming just as good at finding as she was at hiding. That was the unfortunate bit.
But as it wasn’t her parents she was hiding from this time, she figured that the skills she’d acquired in running away from her parents and the scientists they so frequently handed her over to should serve her well. And they did. She remained quiet and unspotted until the hunters very well gave up.
To capture me means to take from me my freedom. To take from me my freedom is to take from me my vitality. To take from me my vitality leaves me with loss and hopelessness and despair. There is nothing left to take from me.
This is why I’ll never fall in love.
mE! just do it, im so fuckin ready for you. i lost my four pounds, i paintet my nails and i got thet nosejob, så pleas pleas pleas, captyre me now! dont be lazy, put up that wilderness cage, easily seen, so i can walk straight in, like a exotic bird, pretending to not know what im doing..
i capture one day, a simple word that created a specific feeling, that was undescribable, i love you said to me that angel, only if i could see him again, it would be unbelievable.
regina
Capture the essence of what life is all about. Capture the meaning of language. Capture capture capture capture. Somehow I cannot capture what I am supposed to. But are you supposed to capture? Possibly. Maybe. No.
Bound, that’s how I felt. I felt bound. My heart beat almost out of my chest as he closed the door behind him. We were on the wrong side of the house for anybody to help me. There was nothing to do. My face flushed, the tips of my ears even. He used his body to block the door. It was going to happen again and again. Instantly I felt guilty. I felt that this was my fault. I gulped, scrambled for breath.
The rapist is going to capture you. BITCH!
Captured in a capsicum was a little creature.
Little creature screamed for help,
but capturing capsicum kept it.
an image, still life. if one misses out on life, and doesn’t absorb every beauty in it, one would be amiss and die unhappy.
how much longer am I allowed to run away from my problems before they capture me? I’m cutting it so close. Each time the stakes get high or problems arise I sprint as fast as I can. Close my eyes and just sprint. What will help me stand in place next time?
THIS WAS IT!! I finally got it!! that stupid Pokemon! BWWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH Pikachu is finally MINE
The story of the serial killer played out on the evening news like a movie–the car chase, the stand off, and finally the shoot out. Police, reporters, bystanders; there were so many witnesses. But in the end, four people were dead–including the murderer–and no one knew why.
I looked around again. I couldn’t really help it. I was in a cage. A literal, made-of-steel-bars cage. This kind of thing really only happened in the movies, right? Cartoons and all. Not in real life and certainly not to me.
We had a big rat in the learning street at our school!!! We tried to capture it or kill it with a broom! But no luck!!!
I love writing and I’ve recently discovered a passion for drawing. I love to capture moments that most people miss. That secret smile between lovers, the brush of a hand between a husband and wife, the glint of mischief between sisters. That’s part of the reason I love photography so much. You get to steal time, take those moments and put them in a jar, holding them forever, frozen and unchanging so you can look back at them and smile at the purity of that one captured moment.
Capture the moment:
They tell you the anticipation is the best part. Right now, I’m not so sure.
John shifted on the cold stone chair, keeping his rear end from going numb. It was perfectly pleasant out, a light breeze blowing through Sherlock’s curls as John eyed the board. He rested his chin in his fingertips in a subconscious imitation of Sherlock’s thinking pose.
They had gone for a walk, as there was nothing more pressing that needed to be done, and the rare opportunity of perfect weather had tempted John to finally leave the house after the last few days, where he and Sherlock had hardly done anything work-related at all. They needed a case, and badly. In the meantime, though, John had dragged Sherlock out into the sun to see if the pale shut-in might be able to absorb some ultraviolet light. They’d meandered slowly through the park until coming to a small paved area near a fountain. Several benches and tables littered the area, some occupied by more elderly couples, silently enjoying the weather as they passed the time with chess. John, already knowing he would lose, invited Sherlock to a game. The detective huffed a small laugh and conceded, settling down naturally behind the small black pieces carved from a heavy stone. John slid in behind the white, and had to find a small rock to replace one of his missing pawns.
Finally, after a long and brutal battle (John was trying his very best, much to Sherlock’s amusement), John found himself pinned between two choices. He could advance this pawn (the rock, no less), one of only two remaining, and promote it to a queen. Or he could use his knight to capture Sherlock’s queen. After much deliberation, he chose the latter. A smug smirk no longer even crossed his face, as he had become far too accustomed to Sherlock’s immediate retaliations.
Sherlock made a swift move with his rook and took John’s knight, probably having had this all planned out five steps in advance. “Check mate,” he purred with a grin, “But a valiant effort on your part, John, really. Well done.” John had to keep himself from grinning at the complement.
Scooting out from behind the table, he stood and stretched as Sherlock politely reset the board for the next visitors. John reached out when the chore was finished, and grasped the slender fingers in a warm squeeze, leading the man of massive, superior intellect back home.
capture my heart in a cage of glass
you can’t ignore me, my feelings won’t pass
broken promises begin to mean less
for you alone my love I’ll confess
They couldn’t captivate me with their biceps, buns, and chests. I was better than them even if my physique did not compare. I could do things they try to brush off, because when they release the lions, all the strength in the world couldn’t hold them back. But it didn’t take all the speed or endurance I had to outrun them.
the kidnapper managed to capure her even after she ran away. He called her home and told her parents that he had captured her and was holding her for ransom. She wanted to be let go but she was being held captive against her will.
to capture a moment, in it’s essence. The array of the sunset’s colors the warmth of it’s glow. The joy, passion, heat of the moment. The friendship, the present. What is and what will be. A moment is fleeting, and our memories try best to capture as many pieces as possible. But we’ll never be here again.
Its not easy to capture all the details of something. Sometimes all that we can hope for is to recall the feelings. The situations. The emotions. Those things are indelible. Those are the nuances that we come to miss. Not the definitions.
To capture ones dream before it flees from ones present mind – into the realm of the subconsciousness, the realm of dreams where all bear the same faces stripped of features and everything is liquid and in constant transformation. In greeting the subconsciousness by shaking his hand, reality will lose its grasp – for it will turn into nothingness.
Standing atop the peak of the building, both arms stretched out in the air, with the wind blowing smoothly upon his face and the sun shining on his cheeks, the smell of new plant growth in his nostrils. This, he knew, is where he belonged. Despite all of his continual quirkiness, he didn’t feel as captured anymore. He could just exist and be satisfied.
In a moment of silence, filled with song of birds and the rush of water and the whistle of trees, he could see the words.
They were plain to him, loud, clear as the dark sky to which he first awoke, and for that one moment, when the color reached his eyes – he was blind.
The kids were still outside. It was a lovely night, why shouldn’t they be? Be something in the way they stalked the fireflies, toying with them and hurting them unintentionally, made Maria shutter. The poor creatures were captured by grubby hands and shuffled into jars they were doomed to die in. It’s funny how sad children can make you.
capture the moment, the memory of this day. Remember the things that made you smile and even the ones that put a frown on your face. Capture it with the camera in your head, never let that go.
I stopped and looked up at the rest of the winding stairs above. The shadows and the lights and the dust that reminded be of fairies and the lines captivated me. Suddenly it was over, the moment of unexpected beauty, as the other student pushed passed me in ignorance.
I run. Thinking is it enough to simply run from it, should i be worried about other things. For instance I could hide, I could fight, I could run. Running that is all I can do. I pause and listen and that is when it happens. I am captured.
When I think of capture, I see cameras and a lovely photographer behind it, he has a bigger smile than I do and all he wants to do in life is make me smile and capture it with his camera.
capturing him by the resonating light was my favourite thing to do. back then when we knew love, when we sensed it, when we knew how to live…
Perhaps the most stereotypical thing she felt was lost. The photo showed it all. Her blank stare into the camera told a million stories. Her emotion had been captured perfectly. Her true emotion on her wedding day was something she had hoped to keep hidden.
you’ve captured my truth. you’ve captured my vulnerability. this is why i’ve built up these walls we’ve so intimately implied of tearing down, for fear of reality kicking in leading you to believe i am more ugly then i let on. and now i am captured in my self pity for the mystery is gone, and my stupidly romantic self still hopes for a happy ending when in reality i’m not made out for happy endings.
i only wish you could capture this heartache as well.
He tried to capture the setting sun, he had set up his camera and waited patiently with just enough excitement for the sun to set and just as he was about to click he wife cam into frame “coffee ?” she asked.
I stood naked in frot of that tall blonde boy. He captured my total vulnerability and I was stunned. This is not how one is supposed to become intimate with the opposite sex, de-robing in a public poolside restroom.
When i think about capture I think about something taking a picture and capturing the moment. I also think about when I was a kid and played capture the flag with friends and neighbors.
Capture was not an option for me. I couldn’t affored to be held against my will. I had to save my family. Free them from their own capture. The men who had taken them, stole them away from me, would now die. Their deaths will not be quick.
They will know what it feels like to be captured. To be beaten and tortured. I will avenge my families capture. And if they are dead, their captors will be tortured that much more. And that is why I must avoid capture at all costs.
You say you read people like you read books, and I say ‘sure’ because I know you don’t read books either.
Capture my heart and enrich my soul.
Create me a world with fortunes untold.
Lavish me with love and sell me a dream.
Give me the life where we embrace for eternity.
Erika had gotten good at avoiding capture.
Her parents were evolving just as she did, of course, and so they were becoming just as good at finding as she was at hiding. That was the unfortunate bit.
But as it wasn’t her parents she was hiding from this time, she figured that the skills she’d acquired in running away from her parents and the scientists they so frequently handed her over to should serve her well. And they did. She remained quiet and unspotted until the hunters very well gave up.
Like catch, but more permanent. Under lock and key. Or a net. No use struggling to get free. Capture is for keeps.
To capture me means to take from me my freedom. To take from me my freedom is to take from me my vitality. To take from me my vitality leaves me with loss and hopelessness and despair. There is nothing left to take from me.
This is why I’ll never fall in love.
mE! just do it, im so fuckin ready for you. i lost my four pounds, i paintet my nails and i got thet nosejob, så pleas pleas pleas, captyre me now! dont be lazy, put up that wilderness cage, easily seen, so i can walk straight in, like a exotic bird, pretending to not know what im doing..
i capture one day, a simple word that created a specific feeling, that was undescribable, i love you said to me that angel, only if i could see him again, it would be unbelievable.
Capture the essence of what life is all about. Capture the meaning of language. Capture capture capture capture. Somehow I cannot capture what I am supposed to. But are you supposed to capture? Possibly. Maybe. No.
Bound, that’s how I felt. I felt bound. My heart beat almost out of my chest as he closed the door behind him. We were on the wrong side of the house for anybody to help me. There was nothing to do. My face flushed, the tips of my ears even. He used his body to block the door. It was going to happen again and again. Instantly I felt guilty. I felt that this was my fault. I gulped, scrambled for breath.