what makes the car run. too expensive. stinks, hate to run out, use to mow, pollution,
Linda
It’s all he could smell when he entered the room. There used to be something else there before, and when he thinks back to the time he first visited the place in his junior year of high school, he remembers. He remembers the smell of burning wood, and then he can practically hear the fire crackling, see the blood on his knuckles. What a shame.
Kristy
It fuels an engine so that it can go where the director wants it to go. Without it, the director cannot direct the driver to go anywhere in the vessel given to the driver.
Terri
Fuel, elevation, get going, It’s time to make a move. I can do all things through Christ who strengths me. I will rise above the hurt. I am Strong and Courageous.
Lula
The pump creaks as I pull it over to my car. I need gas, or we’ll never get out of here alive. As I watch the meter steadily climb, I keep a sharp lookout. Without this, we have no chance, but stopping – even leaving the safety of the vehicle – could be our downfall. In this new world, people will kill for a way out.
Bethany B-W
The combustion smelled of gasoline and flame. She inhaled deeply. What a good sign. She smiled and turned on her heel and walked away. It had been a successful day overall.
she lights me up, standing in a pool, watching the flicked flame rotate over its back and piss its parabolic path unto my soaked feet. I wretch in the past and fear the moments before impact, frozen in my own time, stuck on some perpetual loop of a thought, never engulfed, but feeling the paralyzing spell of a moment suspended. Drink the gasoline, I ignite, this is what you seek.
smurfstoestar
Effective. Entirely out of its time… No matter small affections I have for the substance, its existence.. I guess I am over it. I guess you’ll get it later.
– But by whatever means, it’s your choice. *Your* play.
dareka
I stared at the gasoline stain that had soaked into the flaking concrete. Someone had obviously tried to scrub it off. But there is sat belligerent and ingrained into the concretes very fibre.
Gina
what the fuck is that? you mean like, petrol? i asked, ervously.
:you’re an idiot. you don’t know what gasoline is/
no, i know what petrol is. why would you call it gasoline. isn’t that what americans call it? i asked, tensely. oh my gosh, what if i was indeed an idiot. i didn’t know enough. my muscles were all tight. was there a point to my existencce? deep sigh. that escalated quickly. not the conclusion i should be jumping to, i know, and my psychologist agreed.
The gasoline burnt my eyes. I wasn’t sure whether I should try and scrub the cursed yet providential gas from my eyes.. IT’S BURNING MY FUCKING EYES OUT! OH GOD! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! THE RAG IS SOAKED IN WATER AND IT STILL WILL NOT ASSUAGE THIS TORMENT! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS….
Lee
She slowly, slowly, ever so slowly turns to dust from the inside out, each little dog-eared corner of her heart disintegrating into the ashes from whence they came, the crumbling mess widening into a hole that burns out each and every bone, every organ, until at last it reaches her skin.
I always liked the smell of gasoline but that was before the fires. They say that you shouldn’t play with fire or you’ll get burned. They don’t tell you that you shouldn’t play with fire because your entire family, as well as eighteen others, might be burned, too… They don’t warn you, I guess because most people don’t need a warning.
Apparently I did..
Lee
The gasoline fell out of the container as the hooded vandal sloshed it over the mansion. Carpets and antiques were soaked in the flammable liquid, and the cool night air prevented it from evaporating. Nothing was moving except for her, and she nervously looked around, almost wishing to be caught.
Hours passed, and dawn began to tinge the horizon. The mansion was well and truly soaked through. The job was done. The vandal drew a single match from her sweatshirt pocket and struck it against the wall. She dropped it, and the gasoline caught easily.
She did not move as the flames rose around her.
Shadow
until the time in which
society acknowledges there is a problem
and no one man is guaranteed
superiority over his brothers
and, especially, sisters
that economic equality is imperative
to a functional society
that our government represents us all
not the people who write the checks
we are forced to fight together
we pour gasoline on the fire
we burn apathy
until parity
nos hace movilizarnos y conseguir viajar mucho mas que es lo que quiero este 2018!! viajar viajar y viajar!!!!!
Natalia
She’s run out of gas, Stephanie Evans has, and not in the metaphorical sense. She’s on the highway, which has petered out to gravel and ruts, and her gasoline gauge registers EMPTY.
The road was a four lane freeway from the border of California up to Oregon and its transformation into a little traveled gravel road soon to turn into a dirt road and then to nothing but brambles was entirely unexpected. Certainly it was not on the map. Also, where she had filled her tank was twenty miles ago, so EMPTY was also a huge surprise. If this is the way 2018 begins, she thinks — which is her last thought before the monster gets her — it’s not worth living.
Joanna Bressler
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got a weird feeling about this.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Something tells me that dousing the Christmas tree in gasoline and setting it on fire isn’t exactly the most expedient way to get rid of it.”
My mom got a funny look on her face. The lighter in her hand was tiny and cute. “Look, honey – I have no time or energy to drive it to the recycling center. Just soak it in the stuff already, and let’s MOVE IT.”
Belinda Roddie
Dousing the monster in gasoline was probably stupid, but it’s what we had on hand. It shook it’s furry body, spraying the liquid all over the place. Behind its huge form, we could see the stranger lighting a cigarette. No time to run before it hit the ground and everything suddenly went white.
gasoline cost so much now a days. its like everywhere you look all you see is money signs and people stressing over the price of a gallon. I really dont have much to say othjer than gas is a bitch to live with and wish science could hurry and find a new alternative
Cristen
i took the gas can and started walking up the dusty highway into what looked like nowhere. i had really only the faintest inkling that a town, a house, a something helpful was closer going forward than back. Back had been a long stretch of zero. Ahead at least had some inkling of hope. I walked for at least five miles before thirst made me cough. No cars had passed. Buzzards. The road bent ahead around a low gray hill so I stumbled on
what makes the car run. too expensive. stinks, hate to run out, use to mow, pollution,
It’s all he could smell when he entered the room. There used to be something else there before, and when he thinks back to the time he first visited the place in his junior year of high school, he remembers. He remembers the smell of burning wood, and then he can practically hear the fire crackling, see the blood on his knuckles. What a shame.
It fuels an engine so that it can go where the director wants it to go. Without it, the director cannot direct the driver to go anywhere in the vessel given to the driver.
Fuel, elevation, get going, It’s time to make a move. I can do all things through Christ who strengths me. I will rise above the hurt. I am Strong and Courageous.
The pump creaks as I pull it over to my car. I need gas, or we’ll never get out of here alive. As I watch the meter steadily climb, I keep a sharp lookout. Without this, we have no chance, but stopping – even leaving the safety of the vehicle – could be our downfall. In this new world, people will kill for a way out.
The combustion smelled of gasoline and flame. She inhaled deeply. What a good sign. She smiled and turned on her heel and walked away. It had been a successful day overall.
she lights me up, standing in a pool, watching the flicked flame rotate over its back and piss its parabolic path unto my soaked feet. I wretch in the past and fear the moments before impact, frozen in my own time, stuck on some perpetual loop of a thought, never engulfed, but feeling the paralyzing spell of a moment suspended. Drink the gasoline, I ignite, this is what you seek.
Effective. Entirely out of its time… No matter small affections I have for the substance, its existence.. I guess I am over it. I guess you’ll get it later.
– But by whatever means, it’s your choice. *Your* play.
I stared at the gasoline stain that had soaked into the flaking concrete. Someone had obviously tried to scrub it off. But there is sat belligerent and ingrained into the concretes very fibre.
what the fuck is that? you mean like, petrol? i asked, ervously.
:you’re an idiot. you don’t know what gasoline is/
no, i know what petrol is. why would you call it gasoline. isn’t that what americans call it? i asked, tensely. oh my gosh, what if i was indeed an idiot. i didn’t know enough. my muscles were all tight. was there a point to my existencce? deep sigh. that escalated quickly. not the conclusion i should be jumping to, i know, and my psychologist agreed.
The gasoline burnt my eyes. I wasn’t sure whether I should try and scrub the cursed yet providential gas from my eyes.. IT’S BURNING MY FUCKING EYES OUT! OH GOD! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! THE RAG IS SOAKED IN WATER AND IT STILL WILL NOT ASSUAGE THIS TORMENT! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS….
She slowly, slowly, ever so slowly turns to dust from the inside out, each little dog-eared corner of her heart disintegrating into the ashes from whence they came, the crumbling mess widening into a hole that burns out each and every bone, every organ, until at last it reaches her skin.
Gasoline smells funny.
I always liked the smell of gasoline but that was before the fires. They say that you shouldn’t play with fire or you’ll get burned. They don’t tell you that you shouldn’t play with fire because your entire family, as well as eighteen others, might be burned, too… They don’t warn you, I guess because most people don’t need a warning.
Apparently I did..
The gasoline fell out of the container as the hooded vandal sloshed it over the mansion. Carpets and antiques were soaked in the flammable liquid, and the cool night air prevented it from evaporating. Nothing was moving except for her, and she nervously looked around, almost wishing to be caught.
Hours passed, and dawn began to tinge the horizon. The mansion was well and truly soaked through. The job was done. The vandal drew a single match from her sweatshirt pocket and struck it against the wall. She dropped it, and the gasoline caught easily.
She did not move as the flames rose around her.
until the time in which
society acknowledges there is a problem
and no one man is guaranteed
superiority over his brothers
and, especially, sisters
that economic equality is imperative
to a functional society
that our government represents us all
not the people who write the checks
we are forced to fight together
we pour gasoline on the fire
we burn apathy
until parity
I’d rather drink gasoline
than eat a soybean
nos hace movilizarnos y conseguir viajar mucho mas que es lo que quiero este 2018!! viajar viajar y viajar!!!!!
She’s run out of gas, Stephanie Evans has, and not in the metaphorical sense. She’s on the highway, which has petered out to gravel and ruts, and her gasoline gauge registers EMPTY.
The road was a four lane freeway from the border of California up to Oregon and its transformation into a little traveled gravel road soon to turn into a dirt road and then to nothing but brambles was entirely unexpected. Certainly it was not on the map. Also, where she had filled her tank was twenty miles ago, so EMPTY was also a huge surprise. If this is the way 2018 begins, she thinks — which is her last thought before the monster gets her — it’s not worth living.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got a weird feeling about this.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Something tells me that dousing the Christmas tree in gasoline and setting it on fire isn’t exactly the most expedient way to get rid of it.”
My mom got a funny look on her face. The lighter in her hand was tiny and cute. “Look, honey – I have no time or energy to drive it to the recycling center. Just soak it in the stuff already, and let’s MOVE IT.”
Dousing the monster in gasoline was probably stupid, but it’s what we had on hand. It shook it’s furry body, spraying the liquid all over the place. Behind its huge form, we could see the stranger lighting a cigarette. No time to run before it hit the ground and everything suddenly went white.
gasoline cost so much now a days. its like everywhere you look all you see is money signs and people stressing over the price of a gallon. I really dont have much to say othjer than gas is a bitch to live with and wish science could hurry and find a new alternative
i took the gas can and started walking up the dusty highway into what looked like nowhere. i had really only the faintest inkling that a town, a house, a something helpful was closer going forward than back. Back had been a long stretch of zero. Ahead at least had some inkling of hope. I walked for at least five miles before thirst made me cough. No cars had passed. Buzzards. The road bent ahead around a low gray hill so I stumbled on