The end of a sentence. The pause between words and phrases that fills the awkward space. Yakko and Wakko’s adorable kid sister. See also, point, decimal, period. Ending this now with a dot.
Tanner
Finally I got connected the dots in my head. I couldn’t believe how often I lost the lines between them. Passions, dreams, everything got connected now.
Isidro
A period. A dot is a dot. A dot means an ending. A dot can be one point in your journey. A dot stays where it is. A dot’s place can be determined by someone else. A dot – can a dot move? Where do you place a dot? A dot is a dot and dot – I mean that – is all I can say.
Mosou
Lately, I’ve got nothing but true stories. A large publication returned my query about a position that’s opened up, they asked me to send my résumé. Will I eventually sign on a dotted line? I don’t know. But it’s worth a shot just to try. Even if I get turned away, I still made it to “Yes, we’d like to see your résumé.” That’s got to count for something.
The blood stains dotted the yellow sand. “He must have gone this way”, said his sgt. They kept on his trail through the scorching afternoon sun until they found the man they were searching for. The man had been linked to making bombs all over the Al Anbar province, and now the Marines were here to put a stop to it.
The blood stains dotted the yellow sand. He must have gone this way”, said his sgt. They kept on his trail through the scorching afternoon sun until they found the man they were searching for.
I see the word dot. I must come up with something, some sort of creative description, imaginative, ingenue – but all I see are three letters, all staring at me defiantly. “You can’t. You can’t. You can’t,” they tell me. And it’s true: I cannot. I cannot express them in an artful way. I know whatever I’ll write will be drab, dull, lifeless.
Before me, there are only three letters: dot.
That is all I see.
Aisha
As the night wrapped around her like a shawl, she wondered if she even still existed. Sometimes without the sun to light her up she was sure she would fade away until nothing remained but a dot that used to be sad.
there is a dot on your arm
and when i think of you i think of dots
and when i think of dots i think of you
(dots are nice)
(there’s a symmetry to them
that people sometimes lack)
(they tell you it’s okay because
dots are simple
and swirl forever and ever
into themselves)
sanam
The dot blinked on the screen. The words were so close, yet they seemed to flee the second they materialized. There were no words that were fit to describe what I was feeling. I looked at my blank phone screen again. Then I exited out of the text screen. I couldn’t say it, so I left it unsaid.
Biggest. Mistake. Of. My. Life.
Anisha Russell
a dot. it ends a sentence. it ends an era. it ends a life. but it also begins. not just end. the dot is mighty and strong. you should never misuse a dot. it doesn’t receive the credit it deserves.
Fuck, dot? I once went to a cute store in Torrance, CA called Pop Monster and bought this tiny white toy/figure and his name was Dot. It was such a neat little thing. It didn’t have any facial feature, or anything, but it did have a little dot in his “area” to show that it was a boy. Cute, right?
the pale blue dot, how beautiful it must look from space. however, the closer you get, the more ugly it becomes. it is a place bathed in pain, anger, lust, all of the most powerful emotions of man come to life only for a short time, and to spread the worst of us. is this the real life, or is it fantasy? people will eternally argue back and forth over this, but it is what we make of it.
George Kopanas
“What’s this mean? This whole dot-dot-dot dealy?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s like when you trail off? Like you leave the words kinda hanging?”
She peered at me through hooded eyes, clearly not understanding. “Huh?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it; it doesn’t matter.”
one simple dot. it means the end. the end of a sentence the end of an era the end of a life time. who gave this little mark so much power? it is mighty. it is mightier than the sword because it controls alot but it doesnt give the recognition it deserves.
misha
Some say your life is one dot on a line that stretches for light years. She says a dot is the end of a line in a book. The end of a story perhaps? Whether life is a dot, or a dot ends a story, he couldn’t say. But he knows that life and stories are connected. Connect the dots? They say a picture tells a story, that it’s worth more than words. But what is the worth of a life that’s a dot. Maybe it’s worth one story, one picture, one ending. Or maybe it’s connected to the entire line, part of an intricate story, one picture in a grand mosaic. We all say so many different things…
Fay
an insignificat dot on this earth
merely here for a spec of time
in the infinite universe
yet while you are here
you can leave a legacy
an impression.
on the world.
or just on the ones
who care for you.
“A red dot.” Camaris corrected. “You don’t see those kinds of dots everywhere and if you ever see one of these, I hope you duck.” She tucked a strand of hair around her ear.
“Duck? Isn’t it dance?”
“No, that’s a song. This is life and death. Probably more death than life.”
“…why do we always have to talk in code?”
“Because you’re an idiot that can’t be bothered to check his email.” His handler grimaced. “Just try to pay attention from time to time? There are lives on the line here.”
“Yours or mine?” The spy wanted to know. “I’m not doing it on purpose, Cama. I just don’t think they’re right.”
“You don’t have to agree. You just have to do as you’re told.” Camaris stretched. “Now, I’ll meet you two weeks and four days from now. You know the standard time?”
He gave her a look. “I always know the standard time.”
“Scrap it. We’re using Pacific.” She stood, shouldering her messenger bag. “Stop looking in my direction and go buy a coffee five minutes after I leave. Your mission will be uploaded by then.”
“Yes ma’am.” he watched her leave anyway, looking for something that she hadn’t seen. And when he saw the tiny red dot appear on the left side of her navy jacket, right below the shoulder, he lurched forward from the park bench and tackled her to the ground.
The end of the sentence. Will it finish my words, my thoughts as if nothing else can succeed? Will it end my life? What is my life but one meaning to an unrequited end? Will I be all but a punctuation? An ending section of my darkest notions or all things over with just one space. dot.
Erin
And her daily ritual was strictly controlled, restricting her activities to only those he approved of, with rigorous checks on the results; laundry folded just right, dishes stacked neatly, homework done. He even dictated how she should draw school assignments, placing a series of dots on the page for her to join up so that it looked like her own work.
tonykeyesjapan
dot dot dot is my mind in the vault. dot dot dot is what my heart echoes and recites when they say “i love you”. and here i am in a crowded field, breaking out a noose to hang my heart by your words that aren’t alive.
The dot was a little girl. Her name was Mary and she was a living dot. Anna went over to the girl and smiles sweetly. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Dot waves at Anna with a small tiny wave. She was scared of this person she did not know. Why is she taking to me? Why is she looking at me funny?
It was there, the smallest thing on the piece of paper. Black as night, thick as a quarter. Something unexpected had caused it to appear. Would it wash away easily? Odds are, the answer would prove to be no. It would remain there forever.
Amanda Cole
Accidental Mayor of Potemkin
am i the river stone
born smooth, worn jagged
they come, they go,
i run my rule across it all
direct traffic
set the house in order
and pine for my wife
my sleeping children
she texted me a video
outside the stables
in dark winter
all throwing hay and blowing kisses
‘kissing is like drinking salted water,
you drink, and your thirst increases’
i cried
an alarm clock rings
i rise, fill a glass with water
swallow the pill of captaincy
suit up
kiss and hold them each
in my mind
the steering wheel is so cold
i shiver
all that matters
is all that matters
all else
is sinking sand
that dot did not care about anyone. all these dots around us are like flying disks of nightmares that we cant stop and that not one person can save us from. if one person could save us from this dot then we would be set but no one saves us! we all need help because this dot is going to hurt us!
it was small and round just sitting there like it had nothing better to do. if it did there would have been something like an explosion because this dot had always been friends with a cheeta. how do you know this dot was just a dot and not an imaginary one? because it was hanging out at the end of a sentence. the lonely kind you see just sitting there at the butt end of every one.
Becca
There wasn’t much to think about that day. Emilianna just couldn’t get over this one little girl she’d met the other night at the diner. Her name was Dot. She was a curious little girl with a very cute hat. Something seemed very off about her, though, and it just wouldn’t shake from her. She didn’t know why, but the girl seemed different. Not different as in racial or not-from-here, but different as in not human.
Emilianna
Dot. What is dot? Does it mean the end of something, or does it mean the beginning of something on a bigger scale. Dots can mean the future, dots can mean nothing.
Ebony
a space
an ending
a pause
a impossibly small speck
or the world
we are a dot in relation to our solar system
but we are not small
E
It is the drip of darkness, the dip, brimming bubble about to burst, of ink from quivering ink pen on the pale delicate white paper sheet.
Lauren
It marks an end and a start. A beginning and an end to all that we know and will come to know. Things we’ve seen, things we’ve loved. All of those come together as we reminisce over what it means to end, to start. How peculiar that such a simple symbol can do so.
Nisa S.
It was something that she knew she couldn’t see. It still existed however. marking. alienatin. she could see it so could anyone else. it was red. angry. twisted. out damn spot. it would remain. against her flesh. burdening her with its weight under the idea that it could never be removed. rip the flesh and tear inside she wondered. rip the flesh and tear inside. her hands would be marked with spots both unseen and promise because blood was her mission and the world was simply a bath.
Ace
that black dot was tiny and big at the same time. Jennifer Jareau did not understand how suck a thing was possible but it was. Who the hell know that a dot could be so small but yet so big? I don’t know but that dot had so much color inside that others thought he was an angel from heaven. He did not understand why he was hated by all the other dots of the world. Heck he did not understand why everyone wanted to kill him. He would cry out but this dot was to small but yet to big to be heard. “HELP!” he would scream but it did not matter how much he screamed because no one was going to save him
Jennifer
Dot dot dot what do I even have to say about the dot omfg. I don’t know what I’m even doing. Dots are dots. Dots are everywhere. Dot cot lot sought bot rot pot not.
Chelsey
She never thought of it as much, just a simple dot on her shirt that would soon disappear. Yet, upon listening to the swish of her washing machine, hearing the noise of her dryer, the girl simply couldn’t fathom as to why the small back dot laid in the middle of the fabric. For a moment, she looked almost quizzical, until she realized it must have been something deeper. Something that laid within her mind, and for the most part she watched slowly as her eyelids fluttered. Lashes bunched together, for when she opened her bright blue orbs, in front of her on the wall was a perfectly round dot. One of the same that had been evident on her clothing, as if torturing her mindlessly.
Taylor
Dot. Dot. Dot.
A weighted pause. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling and neither does she, so he waits, hoping the heavy silence would fill the gap for him. It’s so much easier to let emptiness be where words should be, kept and stored, saved, memorized. Instead she gets nothing. Dots.
no zom
The red beam of light of the sniper’s laser atop his rifle had pointed right into her retina and ever since then there was this discernible dot in the center of the vision of her right eye. it wasn’t a bother to her really, but it always reminded her of that breathless moment when the sniper had her in his target. Her mouth turned up in a half smile when she recalled how slick she had been in avoiding his military trained precision shot at her. now, as she wandered her way through the tables in the restaurant where she chose to work in after she had made her brilliant escape to the United States, she couldn’t help but chuckle when she introduced herself to customers, “Hi, I’m Dot; I’ll be your server today.”
a tiny little speck sticking out from something very, very , very, very big it was humungus !
it was such a small dot sticking from something that big !
The end of a sentence. The pause between words and phrases that fills the awkward space. Yakko and Wakko’s adorable kid sister. See also, point, decimal, period. Ending this now with a dot.
Finally I got connected the dots in my head. I couldn’t believe how often I lost the lines between them. Passions, dreams, everything got connected now.
A period. A dot is a dot. A dot means an ending. A dot can be one point in your journey. A dot stays where it is. A dot’s place can be determined by someone else. A dot – can a dot move? Where do you place a dot? A dot is a dot and dot – I mean that – is all I can say.
Lately, I’ve got nothing but true stories. A large publication returned my query about a position that’s opened up, they asked me to send my résumé. Will I eventually sign on a dotted line? I don’t know. But it’s worth a shot just to try. Even if I get turned away, I still made it to “Yes, we’d like to see your résumé.” That’s got to count for something.
The blood stains dotted the yellow sand. “He must have gone this way”, said his sgt. They kept on his trail through the scorching afternoon sun until they found the man they were searching for. The man had been linked to making bombs all over the Al Anbar province, and now the Marines were here to put a stop to it.
The blood stains dotted the yellow sand. He must have gone this way”, said his sgt. They kept on his trail through the scorching afternoon sun until they found the man they were searching for.
I see the word dot. I must come up with something, some sort of creative description, imaginative, ingenue – but all I see are three letters, all staring at me defiantly. “You can’t. You can’t. You can’t,” they tell me. And it’s true: I cannot. I cannot express them in an artful way. I know whatever I’ll write will be drab, dull, lifeless.
Before me, there are only three letters: dot.
That is all I see.
As the night wrapped around her like a shawl, she wondered if she even still existed. Sometimes without the sun to light her up she was sure she would fade away until nothing remained but a dot that used to be sad.
there is a dot on your arm
and when i think of you i think of dots
and when i think of dots i think of you
(dots are nice)
(there’s a symmetry to them
that people sometimes lack)
(they tell you it’s okay because
dots are simple
and swirl forever and ever
into themselves)
The dot blinked on the screen. The words were so close, yet they seemed to flee the second they materialized. There were no words that were fit to describe what I was feeling. I looked at my blank phone screen again. Then I exited out of the text screen. I couldn’t say it, so I left it unsaid.
Biggest. Mistake. Of. My. Life.
a dot. it ends a sentence. it ends an era. it ends a life. but it also begins. not just end. the dot is mighty and strong. you should never misuse a dot. it doesn’t receive the credit it deserves.
Fuck, dot? I once went to a cute store in Torrance, CA called Pop Monster and bought this tiny white toy/figure and his name was Dot. It was such a neat little thing. It didn’t have any facial feature, or anything, but it did have a little dot in his “area” to show that it was a boy. Cute, right?
the pale blue dot, how beautiful it must look from space. however, the closer you get, the more ugly it becomes. it is a place bathed in pain, anger, lust, all of the most powerful emotions of man come to life only for a short time, and to spread the worst of us. is this the real life, or is it fantasy? people will eternally argue back and forth over this, but it is what we make of it.
“What’s this mean? This whole dot-dot-dot dealy?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s like when you trail off? Like you leave the words kinda hanging?”
She peered at me through hooded eyes, clearly not understanding. “Huh?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it; it doesn’t matter.”
Dixie dot is sitting by my side! She got a haircut, and feels like a queen! I feel so blessed to be in this home!
one simple dot. it means the end. the end of a sentence the end of an era the end of a life time. who gave this little mark so much power? it is mighty. it is mightier than the sword because it controls alot but it doesnt give the recognition it deserves.
Some say your life is one dot on a line that stretches for light years. She says a dot is the end of a line in a book. The end of a story perhaps? Whether life is a dot, or a dot ends a story, he couldn’t say. But he knows that life and stories are connected. Connect the dots? They say a picture tells a story, that it’s worth more than words. But what is the worth of a life that’s a dot. Maybe it’s worth one story, one picture, one ending. Or maybe it’s connected to the entire line, part of an intricate story, one picture in a grand mosaic. We all say so many different things…
an insignificat dot on this earth
merely here for a spec of time
in the infinite universe
yet while you are here
you can leave a legacy
an impression.
on the world.
or just on the ones
who care for you.
“…it’s a dot.”
“A red dot.” Camaris corrected. “You don’t see those kinds of dots everywhere and if you ever see one of these, I hope you duck.” She tucked a strand of hair around her ear.
“Duck? Isn’t it dance?”
“No, that’s a song. This is life and death. Probably more death than life.”
“…why do we always have to talk in code?”
“Because you’re an idiot that can’t be bothered to check his email.” His handler grimaced. “Just try to pay attention from time to time? There are lives on the line here.”
“Yours or mine?” The spy wanted to know. “I’m not doing it on purpose, Cama. I just don’t think they’re right.”
“You don’t have to agree. You just have to do as you’re told.” Camaris stretched. “Now, I’ll meet you two weeks and four days from now. You know the standard time?”
He gave her a look. “I always know the standard time.”
“Scrap it. We’re using Pacific.” She stood, shouldering her messenger bag. “Stop looking in my direction and go buy a coffee five minutes after I leave. Your mission will be uploaded by then.”
“Yes ma’am.” he watched her leave anyway, looking for something that she hadn’t seen. And when he saw the tiny red dot appear on the left side of her navy jacket, right below the shoulder, he lurched forward from the park bench and tackled her to the ground.
The end of the sentence. Will it finish my words, my thoughts as if nothing else can succeed? Will it end my life? What is my life but one meaning to an unrequited end? Will I be all but a punctuation? An ending section of my darkest notions or all things over with just one space. dot.
And her daily ritual was strictly controlled, restricting her activities to only those he approved of, with rigorous checks on the results; laundry folded just right, dishes stacked neatly, homework done. He even dictated how she should draw school assignments, placing a series of dots on the page for her to join up so that it looked like her own work.
dot dot dot is my mind in the vault. dot dot dot is what my heart echoes and recites when they say “i love you”. and here i am in a crowded field, breaking out a noose to hang my heart by your words that aren’t alive.
Dot. Dot dot dot dot dot. They went across the paper, one by one, a period after a period after a period, and he stared at them as they did so.
He raised his finger from the key, then paused and pressed it down again, hypnotized by the pointless array of dots across the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Meditating.”
“On what?” she asked, kissing the back of his neck. “Isn’t it boring?”
“On the fruitlessness of everything.”
“Writer’s block?”
“Writer’s block.” he said, and pressed the key down again.
The dot was a little girl. Her name was Mary and she was a living dot. Anna went over to the girl and smiles sweetly. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Dot waves at Anna with a small tiny wave. She was scared of this person she did not know. Why is she taking to me? Why is she looking at me funny?
It was there, the smallest thing on the piece of paper. Black as night, thick as a quarter. Something unexpected had caused it to appear. Would it wash away easily? Odds are, the answer would prove to be no. It would remain there forever.
Accidental Mayor of Potemkin
am i the river stone
born smooth, worn jagged
they come, they go,
i run my rule across it all
direct traffic
set the house in order
and pine for my wife
my sleeping children
she texted me a video
outside the stables
in dark winter
all throwing hay and blowing kisses
‘kissing is like drinking salted water,
you drink, and your thirst increases’
i cried
an alarm clock rings
i rise, fill a glass with water
swallow the pill of captaincy
suit up
kiss and hold them each
in my mind
the steering wheel is so cold
i shiver
all that matters
is all that matters
all else
is sinking sand
that dot did not care about anyone. all these dots around us are like flying disks of nightmares that we cant stop and that not one person can save us from. if one person could save us from this dot then we would be set but no one saves us! we all need help because this dot is going to hurt us!
it was small and round just sitting there like it had nothing better to do. if it did there would have been something like an explosion because this dot had always been friends with a cheeta. how do you know this dot was just a dot and not an imaginary one? because it was hanging out at the end of a sentence. the lonely kind you see just sitting there at the butt end of every one.
There wasn’t much to think about that day. Emilianna just couldn’t get over this one little girl she’d met the other night at the diner. Her name was Dot. She was a curious little girl with a very cute hat. Something seemed very off about her, though, and it just wouldn’t shake from her. She didn’t know why, but the girl seemed different. Not different as in racial or not-from-here, but different as in not human.
Dot. What is dot? Does it mean the end of something, or does it mean the beginning of something on a bigger scale. Dots can mean the future, dots can mean nothing.
a space
an ending
a pause
a impossibly small speck
or the world
we are a dot in relation to our solar system
but we are not small
It is the drip of darkness, the dip, brimming bubble about to burst, of ink from quivering ink pen on the pale delicate white paper sheet.
It marks an end and a start. A beginning and an end to all that we know and will come to know. Things we’ve seen, things we’ve loved. All of those come together as we reminisce over what it means to end, to start. How peculiar that such a simple symbol can do so.
It was something that she knew she couldn’t see. It still existed however. marking. alienatin. she could see it so could anyone else. it was red. angry. twisted. out damn spot. it would remain. against her flesh. burdening her with its weight under the idea that it could never be removed. rip the flesh and tear inside she wondered. rip the flesh and tear inside. her hands would be marked with spots both unseen and promise because blood was her mission and the world was simply a bath.
that black dot was tiny and big at the same time. Jennifer Jareau did not understand how suck a thing was possible but it was. Who the hell know that a dot could be so small but yet so big? I don’t know but that dot had so much color inside that others thought he was an angel from heaven. He did not understand why he was hated by all the other dots of the world. Heck he did not understand why everyone wanted to kill him. He would cry out but this dot was to small but yet to big to be heard. “HELP!” he would scream but it did not matter how much he screamed because no one was going to save him
Dot dot dot what do I even have to say about the dot omfg. I don’t know what I’m even doing. Dots are dots. Dots are everywhere. Dot cot lot sought bot rot pot not.
She never thought of it as much, just a simple dot on her shirt that would soon disappear. Yet, upon listening to the swish of her washing machine, hearing the noise of her dryer, the girl simply couldn’t fathom as to why the small back dot laid in the middle of the fabric. For a moment, she looked almost quizzical, until she realized it must have been something deeper. Something that laid within her mind, and for the most part she watched slowly as her eyelids fluttered. Lashes bunched together, for when she opened her bright blue orbs, in front of her on the wall was a perfectly round dot. One of the same that had been evident on her clothing, as if torturing her mindlessly.
Dot. Dot. Dot.
A weighted pause. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling and neither does she, so he waits, hoping the heavy silence would fill the gap for him. It’s so much easier to let emptiness be where words should be, kept and stored, saved, memorized. Instead she gets nothing. Dots.
The red beam of light of the sniper’s laser atop his rifle had pointed right into her retina and ever since then there was this discernible dot in the center of the vision of her right eye. it wasn’t a bother to her really, but it always reminded her of that breathless moment when the sniper had her in his target. Her mouth turned up in a half smile when she recalled how slick she had been in avoiding his military trained precision shot at her. now, as she wandered her way through the tables in the restaurant where she chose to work in after she had made her brilliant escape to the United States, she couldn’t help but chuckle when she introduced herself to customers, “Hi, I’m Dot; I’ll be your server today.”
a tiny little speck sticking out from something very, very , very, very big it was humungus !
it was such a small dot sticking from something that big !