There are wolves outside my window. At night, you can hear hundreds of them howling. It’s the most eerily beautiful, lonely-sounding thing in the world, it both frosts your heart over and warms it, all at the same time.
Riley Black
Different persons surround me. Two men, a woman and her child.
They’re dressed oddly- oddly for me, anyway, in tight suits that would in any other instance be unfashionable. Any other instance.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” The woman’s voice is calm, soothing, but carries an undertone of, surprisingly, pity. Where am I?
“I don’t- I,” my thoughts are nearly incoherent. I feel dizzy, like I might throw up. I remember Jay’s voice, telling me he fainted, the first time, and forgot all about his mission.
I know where I am, so instead, I ask,”What year is it?”
The woman looks concerned, and pushes her child back behind her, as if I worry her.
As if I’m a threat.
“2098.”
Persons are more than one and they have unique fears and ambitions. Each one his own desires and things he keeps to himself. There are typically several persons that I enjoy being around and that is all I can say.
Lacey Keenan
there are faces
visions of souls
persons unimagined
and yet somehow, they’re known
treasured to my heart
clasped to my breast
like so many thorny roses
and sweet-smelling lilies
persons, not people. they were all different. each uniquely dressed, each uniquely spoke, and each uniquely laughed. they bounced through like dolls in the french quarter with differently masked faces, all holding their own styles and excitement.
With the roar of applause still echoing in her ears, Helene slams the dressing room door. She stands still for a moment, only breathing, and then tears off the black bob. It falls silently to the floor beside last night’s cigarette butts.
You are my person … i love you just the way you are and in fact i hope i will be your person and we both be happy togheter
mariana
personns? people? arent they the same thing? i think of persons like people. they are both hard to get along with if you are socially declined. i get nervous! thats why the only person i want to be around is me!
there are too many persons down here and i don´t like it because they are very ugly!!
mariana
a person is a person
trust is trust, until its not
we are all different, none the same,
sometimes we can trust people and sometimes we cant
its unfortunate but true.
openeyes
My fingers nervously twirled with my hair as I watched Eric scrabble around the room, gathering bags, food, and other objects into his arms.
“What can I do?” I quietly ask. My eyes are wide and shock is still keeping me frozen. When Eric glances at me, he seems to realize this. Throwing a small bag at me, he points to a door. “There’s the bathroom.”
My eyes survey the bag. There’s a blond wig, a hair net, a case with brown color contacts, and a pair of clothing. I hold up the shirt. “I don’t think this will fit.”
“It should,” Eric stops packing clothes into a bag to smile at me. “They were yours.”
After I change, I almost look like the girl in the photo, but this time my eyes are darker.
Strapping the duffel bags to our persons, we study each other before Eric says, “We’re going to get a taxi and then I need to take you to see someone.”
It isn’t until we’re in the car driving when I ask, “Where are we going?”
“Do you remember anything about New York?”
they ran around inside my head knocking on the walls of my mind like nails knocked in with a hammer. they were entirely ingrained there and their chatter or their whispers never left, even in the dead of night. i was unsure whether it was a good or bad thing to always be in company for sometimes the weight of silence had become too much but other times it was the unbearable din i yearned for.
Persons are there from here to stare, I keep my persons clean and lean and I’ve taken them everywhere I’ve been, once a person died once a person born. SWON
People, persons, however you want to look at the word, people as a whole are interesting creatures. It’s not a poor experience to sit and just watch human beings walk around, interact with each other, the subtle nuances in watching a persons expression as another turns away. People are a thousand layers, each one different depending on the eyes they know are on them. In a way, you can only really know somebody by the way they look the moment their friend looks away.
To person or persons unknown: you are my audience. Every book that I write is aimed directly at your soul. When I think about you reading my work, it thrills me to the very core. Now, if only you would take the risk to read me…
Susan Wells Bennett
All persons are equal in a much deeper way than they can ever fight to be.
They are human.
They are people.
And people are all the same.
Always.
Sea
Persons of teenage age tend to act and dress the same. They often speak the same and shop at the same stores, making cliques an inevitable thing. Their music taste is usually the only thing that causes them to differ, as dressing a certain way no longer means much in terms of sub cultures.
Sea
Some are short. Some are tall. Some are skinny. Some are fat.
Whatever they may look like, at the end of the day they’re all human.
Different persons surround me. Two men, a woman and her child.
They’re dressed oddly- oddly for me, anyway, in tight suits that would in any other instance be unfashionable. Any other instance.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” The woman’s voice is calm, soothing, but carries an undertone of, surprisingly pity. Where am I?
Emma Crowe
There are three persons that are one and one persons that are three. If you understand this you are smarter than me. But let’s define smart. Is it really rational at all? Because inherent contradiction seems to put a kabash on it all. So I will just be stupid then and think one is one and three is three. Too many persons in one make a mess of me.
Kevin
“Persons of interest,” he said. I quailed. My hands shook. Coffee spilled over the back of my hand. Pain fought with fear and all that came out was “fuck.”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing Brianna’s name again after all these years, but the context was exactly what I would have expected.
Still don’t know when to use persons instead of people. Maybe when the collective group in question is made up of individuals. Free-thinking, free-spirited individuals who don’t follow the mass herd. Not very often then.
There are so many persons on earth. I mean, when you think people you think of the ones you know. But really, there’s a number so vast that it really seems infinite. To think that there are billions and billions of people you will never meet who exist, who are alive in this moment. Isn’t it incredible? You never really think about the persons you miss out on meeting. You just think about the ones you know and it’s such a sad shame.
It had been hard enough to get him into the trunk, But now she had to figure out where to take him. She looked down at him, one hand on the trunk lid. He had been a person, now he was only a problem to be solved, something to be disposed of. But how, and where?
Barry
The missing persons report was laid on her desk. She just stared at it. No one could understand how this changed her. If they knew she had just met this woman–this Melissa. She hadn’t known her, not really, but she had. She would figure this case out no matter what it took.
Rena
“Do you have any weapons on your persons?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
” . . . Yes?”
The man grabbed the front of her coat with one hand, pulling it open. With his free hand, he reached into her inside pocket and retrieved a rather impressive knife.
“OH. Yeah. That. I keep for emergencies, like if someone needs a turkey carved.”
Raising an eyebrow, he tossed it onto the shiny, stainless steel table. “Remove your boots.”
Rachael
Some persons are, some are not, true or false we travel around of persons, being persons and feeling persons. Persons born, persons die.
Antonio
The whole building was flled with persons. Pushing, walking, talking, sweating and shouting as they bustled about their business. My heart rose up to my throat and I started to hyperventilate. I caught random snatches of conversation,
“…three hours late…”
“I can’t believe Gary…”
“Dania! Dania!” shouted Rachel in my ear. I started and looked at her.
“Pull yourself together!” she said sharply. I nodded and sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to shove out paniced thoughts of claustrophobia and suffocation out of my head.
O ja, da waren sie wieder.
All diese Personen.
All diese Menschen.
Ich hatte sie eine Nacht lang vergessen.
Eine Nacht lang.
Eine Nacht voller glückseeliger, zusammenhangsfreier Träume.
Aber nun waren sie wieder da.
Diese ganzen Menschen.
Nachada
“Have you seen me?” Missing persons pictures in the newspaper. They’re always smiling. Smiling because they aren’t lost yet. Or kidnapped. I don’t know. But those pictures always kind of creep me out.
persons are free. multiple people are not meant to be satistics but they are. made statistics by sadistic satists who want to group us together and take away our power but the power is ours. we together are strong and must let no one take what is ours. don’t let them take you from yourslef. don’t let them.
olivia hoffman
The nine persons at the front of the courtroom all stood at attention. All but juror number three, Mikhail.
“Mr. Ovanova,” barked the judge, “Please rise.”
He snored loudly. Catrina Jenkins reached over and subtly smacked him on the back of the head. He jerked awake, floundered to stand, and fell from the jury box. The judge was not impressed.
Many anonymous persons pass me on the street every day. I’m on the look out to connect. Could these people potentially be my friends? Reaching out in a way that’s real and boundary-appropriate is so hard to do, and so instead I’m insulated in my bubble of familiar Facebook friends.
They walk the streets. I can’t take them all staring at me. Sometimes they look the other way but I know what they’re thinking. Sometimes I can feel their whispers. They talk about me, I just know it. I keep going, ignoring them, they don’t matter.
Julia
“Any persons found to be associated with the criminal Vice Corduroy and his band of bounty hunters shall be brought in for questioning.”
Sheena frowned at the poster with a distinct sarcasm showing in the lines of her face. Criminals, now, were they? Evidently, the authorities in this neck of the woods had an affinity for cracking down on anybody who went about things differently.
Persons are what persons be. Persons like to laugh and pee. Eat a steak man. Get a learn on the fast. Personage of people’s power. People eating a person flower. STeakgood person be better. Person be eating a scarlet letter. Red person blue person blue. Yellow person person you do.
Will
We laid there in the grass. All of us. Not a single one of us spoke. We passed the joint around, the sweet aroma of the pot blazing in the air. Then he spoke, “I’m in love with you.” All seven of us looked at each other. Every individual was tainted by his confession. He spoke again, “I love you.” And just like that the night had bled into morning, like paint on an artists pallet.
I checked the list for persons of interest. There were 3 names that interested me so I Googled them to decide my target. The first name, Chris Sapstein, was available for dinner on Thursday. I tried the next name, Lenore Smyth, she was out of the office.
There are wolves outside my window. At night, you can hear hundreds of them howling. It’s the most eerily beautiful, lonely-sounding thing in the world, it both frosts your heart over and warms it, all at the same time.
Different persons surround me. Two men, a woman and her child.
They’re dressed oddly- oddly for me, anyway, in tight suits that would in any other instance be unfashionable. Any other instance.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” The woman’s voice is calm, soothing, but carries an undertone of, surprisingly, pity. Where am I?
“I don’t- I,” my thoughts are nearly incoherent. I feel dizzy, like I might throw up. I remember Jay’s voice, telling me he fainted, the first time, and forgot all about his mission.
I know where I am, so instead, I ask,”What year is it?”
The woman looks concerned, and pushes her child back behind her, as if I worry her.
As if I’m a threat.
“2098.”
Persons are more than one and they have unique fears and ambitions. Each one his own desires and things he keeps to himself. There are typically several persons that I enjoy being around and that is all I can say.
there are faces
visions of souls
persons unimagined
and yet somehow, they’re known
treasured to my heart
clasped to my breast
like so many thorny roses
and sweet-smelling lilies
persons, not people. they were all different. each uniquely dressed, each uniquely spoke, and each uniquely laughed. they bounced through like dolls in the french quarter with differently masked faces, all holding their own styles and excitement.
With the roar of applause still echoing in her ears, Helene slams the dressing room door. She stands still for a moment, only breathing, and then tears off the black bob. It falls silently to the floor beside last night’s cigarette butts.
You are my person … i love you just the way you are and in fact i hope i will be your person and we both be happy togheter
personns? people? arent they the same thing? i think of persons like people. they are both hard to get along with if you are socially declined. i get nervous! thats why the only person i want to be around is me!
there are too many persons down here and i don´t like it because they are very ugly!!
a person is a person
trust is trust, until its not
we are all different, none the same,
sometimes we can trust people and sometimes we cant
its unfortunate but true.
My fingers nervously twirled with my hair as I watched Eric scrabble around the room, gathering bags, food, and other objects into his arms.
“What can I do?” I quietly ask. My eyes are wide and shock is still keeping me frozen. When Eric glances at me, he seems to realize this. Throwing a small bag at me, he points to a door. “There’s the bathroom.”
My eyes survey the bag. There’s a blond wig, a hair net, a case with brown color contacts, and a pair of clothing. I hold up the shirt. “I don’t think this will fit.”
“It should,” Eric stops packing clothes into a bag to smile at me. “They were yours.”
After I change, I almost look like the girl in the photo, but this time my eyes are darker.
Strapping the duffel bags to our persons, we study each other before Eric says, “We’re going to get a taxi and then I need to take you to see someone.”
It isn’t until we’re in the car driving when I ask, “Where are we going?”
“Do you remember anything about New York?”
they ran around inside my head knocking on the walls of my mind like nails knocked in with a hammer. they were entirely ingrained there and their chatter or their whispers never left, even in the dead of night. i was unsure whether it was a good or bad thing to always be in company for sometimes the weight of silence had become too much but other times it was the unbearable din i yearned for.
Persons are there from here to stare, I keep my persons clean and lean and I’ve taken them everywhere I’ve been, once a person died once a person born. SWON
People, persons, however you want to look at the word, people as a whole are interesting creatures. It’s not a poor experience to sit and just watch human beings walk around, interact with each other, the subtle nuances in watching a persons expression as another turns away. People are a thousand layers, each one different depending on the eyes they know are on them. In a way, you can only really know somebody by the way they look the moment their friend looks away.
To person or persons unknown: you are my audience. Every book that I write is aimed directly at your soul. When I think about you reading my work, it thrills me to the very core. Now, if only you would take the risk to read me…
All persons are equal in a much deeper way than they can ever fight to be.
They are human.
They are people.
And people are all the same.
Always.
Persons of teenage age tend to act and dress the same. They often speak the same and shop at the same stores, making cliques an inevitable thing. Their music taste is usually the only thing that causes them to differ, as dressing a certain way no longer means much in terms of sub cultures.
Some are short. Some are tall. Some are skinny. Some are fat.
Whatever they may look like, at the end of the day they’re all human.
Different persons surround me. Two men, a woman and her child.
They’re dressed oddly- oddly for me, anyway, in tight suits that would in any other instance be unfashionable. Any other instance.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” The woman’s voice is calm, soothing, but carries an undertone of, surprisingly pity. Where am I?
There are three persons that are one and one persons that are three. If you understand this you are smarter than me. But let’s define smart. Is it really rational at all? Because inherent contradiction seems to put a kabash on it all. So I will just be stupid then and think one is one and three is three. Too many persons in one make a mess of me.
“Persons of interest,” he said. I quailed. My hands shook. Coffee spilled over the back of my hand. Pain fought with fear and all that came out was “fuck.”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing Brianna’s name again after all these years, but the context was exactly what I would have expected.
Still don’t know when to use persons instead of people. Maybe when the collective group in question is made up of individuals. Free-thinking, free-spirited individuals who don’t follow the mass herd. Not very often then.
There are so many persons on earth. I mean, when you think people you think of the ones you know. But really, there’s a number so vast that it really seems infinite. To think that there are billions and billions of people you will never meet who exist, who are alive in this moment. Isn’t it incredible? You never really think about the persons you miss out on meeting. You just think about the ones you know and it’s such a sad shame.
It had been hard enough to get him into the trunk, But now she had to figure out where to take him. She looked down at him, one hand on the trunk lid. He had been a person, now he was only a problem to be solved, something to be disposed of. But how, and where?
The missing persons report was laid on her desk. She just stared at it. No one could understand how this changed her. If they knew she had just met this woman–this Melissa. She hadn’t known her, not really, but she had. She would figure this case out no matter what it took.
“Do you have any weapons on your persons?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
” . . . Yes?”
The man grabbed the front of her coat with one hand, pulling it open. With his free hand, he reached into her inside pocket and retrieved a rather impressive knife.
“OH. Yeah. That. I keep for emergencies, like if someone needs a turkey carved.”
Raising an eyebrow, he tossed it onto the shiny, stainless steel table. “Remove your boots.”
Some persons are, some are not, true or false we travel around of persons, being persons and feeling persons. Persons born, persons die.
The whole building was flled with persons. Pushing, walking, talking, sweating and shouting as they bustled about their business. My heart rose up to my throat and I started to hyperventilate. I caught random snatches of conversation,
“…three hours late…”
“I can’t believe Gary…”
“Dania! Dania!” shouted Rachel in my ear. I started and looked at her.
“Pull yourself together!” she said sharply. I nodded and sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to shove out paniced thoughts of claustrophobia and suffocation out of my head.
O ja, da waren sie wieder.
All diese Personen.
All diese Menschen.
Ich hatte sie eine Nacht lang vergessen.
Eine Nacht lang.
Eine Nacht voller glückseeliger, zusammenhangsfreier Träume.
Aber nun waren sie wieder da.
Diese ganzen Menschen.
“Have you seen me?” Missing persons pictures in the newspaper. They’re always smiling. Smiling because they aren’t lost yet. Or kidnapped. I don’t know. But those pictures always kind of creep me out.
persons are free. multiple people are not meant to be satistics but they are. made statistics by sadistic satists who want to group us together and take away our power but the power is ours. we together are strong and must let no one take what is ours. don’t let them take you from yourslef. don’t let them.
The nine persons at the front of the courtroom all stood at attention. All but juror number three, Mikhail.
“Mr. Ovanova,” barked the judge, “Please rise.”
He snored loudly. Catrina Jenkins reached over and subtly smacked him on the back of the head. He jerked awake, floundered to stand, and fell from the jury box. The judge was not impressed.
Many anonymous persons pass me on the street every day. I’m on the look out to connect. Could these people potentially be my friends? Reaching out in a way that’s real and boundary-appropriate is so hard to do, and so instead I’m insulated in my bubble of familiar Facebook friends.
Misplaced. Displaced. Of Interest.
Persistent persons peruse purses.
They walk the streets. I can’t take them all staring at me. Sometimes they look the other way but I know what they’re thinking. Sometimes I can feel their whispers. They talk about me, I just know it. I keep going, ignoring them, they don’t matter.
“Any persons found to be associated with the criminal Vice Corduroy and his band of bounty hunters shall be brought in for questioning.”
Sheena frowned at the poster with a distinct sarcasm showing in the lines of her face. Criminals, now, were they? Evidently, the authorities in this neck of the woods had an affinity for cracking down on anybody who went about things differently.
Persons are what persons be. Persons like to laugh and pee. Eat a steak man. Get a learn on the fast. Personage of people’s power. People eating a person flower. STeakgood person be better. Person be eating a scarlet letter. Red person blue person blue. Yellow person person you do.
We laid there in the grass. All of us. Not a single one of us spoke. We passed the joint around, the sweet aroma of the pot blazing in the air. Then he spoke, “I’m in love with you.” All seven of us looked at each other. Every individual was tainted by his confession. He spoke again, “I love you.” And just like that the night had bled into morning, like paint on an artists pallet.
I checked the list for persons of interest. There were 3 names that interested me so I Googled them to decide my target. The first name, Chris Sapstein, was available for dinner on Thursday. I tried the next name, Lenore Smyth, she was out of the office.