The signs were all pointing in the same direction, for once. I knew that this was the time to take action. To finally do what I had been called to do, what I was born for. I will go to the mountain, and I shall relinquish the burning sword. And may God have mercy on our souls.
Withered, dangling by a rusting nail, the ‘One Way’ sign let out a high-pitched groan as the wind pressed it against the post. Crucified, alone. The smokey grey sky painted behind it churned with a coming storm. The boy’s eyes cast upward, fixing upon the unhinged One Way sign that pointed downward. The dark-circled eyes, too weary for someone so young, ached to even look around. So he let himself fall onto the ashen, war-torn ground in a small crumpled heap. A single sigh escaped his bloody lips. Tired. And his eyelids fluttered closed like butterfly wings. A black-haired child in slumber. The One Way sign was gesturing to him from up on its post, screaming, dieing.
Afin
everywhere telling me to turn around.
Lauryn
These are the signs of our times. Poverty. Crime. Destitution. We are no longer the America of our fathers.
jim
It is said you are a celebrity when your sign becomes an autograph..!!
I often dream about mine becoming one.
The signs all pointed to the left, each one cocked slightly on its axis so that while they all pointed left each pointed at a slightly different angle. Hell, just barely off of straight up. Heaven, twirled so that it pointed toward the ground. There were a thousand others, each a place of peace or passion. Heaven or hell like settings, but none in places you would expect.
Sometimes you can see signs that will show you something. Or you can see signs that will tell you where to go. Signs help out everyone. People can also show signs of something. It can be feelings or it can be other things. Okkk. I don’t know. SIGNS. r fun yaya.
I wished I was better at reading the signs. Maybe then I could have prevented this disaster in the first place. But I am horrible at reading body language peoples emotions, and all the signs that things were going wrong. So, here we are.
The signs are wrong. They have to be wrong.
They have to be.
Right?
Ian
I wish you would just send me a sign, any sign that you feel the same way I do. Without signs there would be wrecks on the road.. The same thing can happen to my heart, my self esteem, my happiness.. I want to tell you that I love you, but you won’t send me any signs.. No good? No bad? Just nothing.. Signs are necessary so we don’t get hurt:. Show me something, anything. I just have this thirst to interpret. This thirst for closure. Please show me something so I can either let the chips fall where they may, or pack it all up and go home. I love you.. But I’m afraid to tell you.. Send me some signs.. Good or bad.. Just signs.
Signs are what allow the people travelling highways to know which direction to go, or not to go. Sometimes we see these as a metaphorical phenomena. What signs tell an individual is how they interpret them. Some people see a bird and see nothing while others take note of a drop in temperature or the wind picking up. The signs of a relationship about to bloom, or about to fail. The signs of a life being lived to its fullest are the successes while the signs of a boring life are its failures and lack of moving forward. Signs are not always in our faces, we have to look for them. We can’t always see them, or feel them, or hear them. Somehow we know that they are there. Our most basic instincts pay attention to signs and we move out of the way of an oncoming car, or we quickly catch someone peering at us from behind. Without signs, our lives would not have direction, our minds would forever be twirling through a vast expanse of aimless thoughts. We would not stop before danger, we would not go to find happiness.
Ryan Boettcher
As a supermarket worker, Emily had opportunity to see how everyone signed their names. Illegibly, like a seismograph recording; carefully, like the cursive on dotted lines her language arts teacher produced and reproduced in third grade; artistic, with z’s like hummingbirds and h’s like rocking chairs. She looked up articles on “what your handwriting tells about you” and from then on, she made up fantasies about her customer’s lives, but strict courtesy prevented her from asking, are you the teacher who spends half an hour organizing the classroom after everyone has left, popping up the stapler tops to see if they need refilling, looking for homework filed in the wrong period? When the lines waned at 9pm she tried signing her own name, but the cursive “E” always looked wrong. Like a woman with a frightful chin, or a sideways pair of buttocks.
Her friend Daisy shook her head at Emily. “Always the dreamy person.” Emily’s mind, like a pin, pressed without hesitation on an empty spot on a bulletin board. She found threads of thought to follow, even when they wound for miles without going anywhere. “If it were me, I would be bored out of my mind.” Waiting in line she was always bored, stared with narrowed eyes at the glamorous girls on the front pages of magazines, listening to the blips of UPC codes sliding across the counter like cars across a tollbooth.
The signs were subtle ones. Even Jay hadn’t noticed them before she looked back and thought. She’d once read in a book somewhere about a character falling in love “the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.” She sympathized with that a hundred percent, because while she hadn’t known she was falling until she was deeply bured in it, when she glanced back over her shoulder the little changes, the signs, were everywhere.
There are signs everywhere. I keep running away from the, yet no matter where i may turn, more appear. It is maddening. they follow me all the time. they know where i am going. how? i do not know.
Nestor
I see them everywhere I go. They follow me; down the street, to the store, when I go inside my own home. I see them. Everywhere, I see them. Sometimes it’s horrifying, sometimes it’s soothing.
But most times, it’s unnerving.
I’m frightened of them.
The signs.
Everywhere.
The signs.
I’ve never told anyone of this. I keep it to myself. I’m scared of what they’ll think. They’ll think I’m mental. Insane. Crazy.
I don’t blame them. Sometimes I think the same thing.
Am I crazy?
For seeing these signs everywhere I go.
Those signs.
Oh, god, save me. Save me from the signs.
Liz
there are road signs,
signs of body language or signs of love,
Signs of hope
Sign language which helps a lot of people
you make signs for your favourite band.
Ruby B-G
I think of the different meaning of signs. the same sign can mean 2 different things depending in where you are like the peace sign in America where you hold 2 fingers up is offensive in Australia.
Emma
The signs on the road keep saying stop. We pass them and I always seem to wake up as they fly by. It is a miracle that my eyes can keep up with them at this speed. You hum away as you listen to the radio. Even when the car is silent you hum and I beg you to stop. Stop. Stop everything. The humming. The driving. The us.
Some said that there were signs in the stars. Not constellations–because Joey knew that was true, as he seen them every time he stepped outside on his porch in the middle of night–but real signs, signs that would light up if you looked at them in a funny way. He remembered (rather clearly) his mother telling him about the Sign of the North-West that she had seen when she was a young child, before she had died of the respiratory disease that had taken her father and her godmother from her. At the time, Joey had thought she was merely telling him a children’s story, but the pure green of the December sky was unnatural, frightening, and awe-inspiring all at the same time.
“Perhaps,” he said aloud to himself, “it was more than just a child’s story.”
In his mother’s story, the signs of Space had the power to transport you to different worlds, grant you any wish that you wanted, and live a long, happy life. She claimed that, as a child, she had spotted the purple sign–which, according to their ancestors, would let her find the love of her life in only but a year.
Joey wished that he knew what had happened–if she had met his father in such a short period. He would not know, because his father had been sent off in war for his tribe. It was something, Joey was sure, he was going to have to figure out for himself. He was going to have to travel long, and travel far, and there would possibly be no coming back. Joey had heard stories from his neighbors about how creatures roamed the rest of the world.
He had to wonder if they were true, like the signs.
If his mother’s story was true, then he would be able to go back, far back, to the time where he could meet the father he had never gotten to.
I’ve read lots of signs today but they didn’t give me the right directions to follow the wrong path towards the strange way that leads to something I still need to know what it is. Where does it come from?
Adeniran Balthazar Silva
Often times, we dismiss the signs. The signs that something may be wrong. Or off. Or actually right. We are blind. Blind to happiness and blind to sadness. Accepting the truth is the biggest sign we ignore.
Andy
All the signs were there. She should have seen it coming. From slight gestures, all the way up to the time I took her out to dinner and I insisted I pay. How could she not tell how I felt? I didn’t understand. Nor did I care. I just wanted her to notice.
There are subtle signs that a relationship is over. I like to ignore them. Pretend like the woman I’m dating still cares for me. For me, when I enter a relationship I’m committed and it’s not over until they say it’s over.
The signs were there. He was pulling away slowly and quietly. He took most of his painting supplies home last Sunday. This weekend he spent the whole time cooking foods to take to other people and then he scoured the house looking for clothes he may have left. Time to call a spade a spade. This relationship was over.
Katherine
The signs that he gives you by coming up behind you and tickling you, gently stroking your hair and flashing you his incredible smile. Leading you on that he is going to ask you to go steady but no, its fake, all of it. Its just an act. He likes some other girl that’s prettier more popular and sleeps with guy she makes eye contact with. She isn’t good enough for you, you need some that’s listens to you, gets your humor and make you smile like i do. But its ok cause no matter what ill always just be waiting for you hoping that one day you will like me back. I lose hope every day.
Tylee
marks about being help by god
walaa
She should’ve seen it coming sooner. Maybe she had, in a way, because she knew as soon as she saw the look on his face. Maybe it was that she hadn’t wanted to think about it coming, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that it was finally over, that everything was crumbling, even though she’d seen the signs all too clearly.
Grace
I should have seen the warning signs. At first, it was the tapping and eyes darting all over the room before the child’s face had started turning red. It was only a matter of time before he exploded and sent the entire day into chaos.
Joe
Signs. What are they? Do they show us where to go or what? Do we need them? I’ll go in the wrong direction. And what if I am happy? Signs. Why do we need them? I don’t.
Chrizolina
There were the signs I suppose
I suffered from weak knees as a youth
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when it gave out,
and with it my dream-
My dream of swimming collegiate
The life I’d always wanted
Signs tell us something we didn’t know was there. They appear suddenly to us, but they’ve been there so much time. We just didn’t realize. Because we see what we want to see.
Rocio
Signs of the times float over the air waves to me. The world is a wonderful horrible breathtaking difficult complex incomprehensible world, and I within it seek to follow my own path, complete my own journey.
Sheila
The signs –
to me they all pointed me
in the same direction.
But he said he doesn’t believe
in signs.
Don’t do it the signs said to me
Do Not Do It!!!!!!
Die Zeichen waren überall. Über Türen, an den Schwellen, auf den Gleisen, auf den Fensterscheiben. Sie waren nicht groß, aber das Rot leuchtete weithin. So ein Rot hatte ich bisher nur bei Sonnenuntergängen gesehen. Die Menschen schauten die Zeichen an und sie schauten einander an. Niemand stellte Fragen.
You know, the signs are everywhere. They have been for years. Apparently I was the only one who was looking. I love you more than anyone can imagine. I love you for your weirdness, your strange desire to pair mayonnaise and cottage cheese and eat it at 1 in the morning every night. Your weird quirks and our random dance parties in the kitchen. But you don’t seem to even care. You’ve never loved me at all.
Signs are from Above. From your guts. Signs are everywhere. In everything. On the roads. In nature. You just got to see them right and you will know everything is trying to tell you something.
Signs!
People give you signs too. On how they feel and so do you. Heed the signs you receive. And understand them. And make wiser choices in life. Sign your life!
The signs were all pointing in the same direction, for once. I knew that this was the time to take action. To finally do what I had been called to do, what I was born for. I will go to the mountain, and I shall relinquish the burning sword. And may God have mercy on our souls.
Withered, dangling by a rusting nail, the ‘One Way’ sign let out a high-pitched groan as the wind pressed it against the post. Crucified, alone. The smokey grey sky painted behind it churned with a coming storm. The boy’s eyes cast upward, fixing upon the unhinged One Way sign that pointed downward. The dark-circled eyes, too weary for someone so young, ached to even look around. So he let himself fall onto the ashen, war-torn ground in a small crumpled heap. A single sigh escaped his bloody lips. Tired. And his eyelids fluttered closed like butterfly wings. A black-haired child in slumber. The One Way sign was gesturing to him from up on its post, screaming, dieing.
everywhere telling me to turn around.
These are the signs of our times. Poverty. Crime. Destitution. We are no longer the America of our fathers.
It is said you are a celebrity when your sign becomes an autograph..!!
I often dream about mine becoming one.
all the signs point to you.
Its your fault.
Its your responsibility.
you can fix it.
no one else.
just you.
alone.
good luck with that.
The signs all pointed to the left, each one cocked slightly on its axis so that while they all pointed left each pointed at a slightly different angle. Hell, just barely off of straight up. Heaven, twirled so that it pointed toward the ground. There were a thousand others, each a place of peace or passion. Heaven or hell like settings, but none in places you would expect.
Sometimes you can see signs that will show you something. Or you can see signs that will tell you where to go. Signs help out everyone. People can also show signs of something. It can be feelings or it can be other things. Okkk. I don’t know. SIGNS. r fun yaya.
I wished I was better at reading the signs. Maybe then I could have prevented this disaster in the first place. But I am horrible at reading body language peoples emotions, and all the signs that things were going wrong. So, here we are.
She had always known the signs. Low grade fever, rash on the upper arm, rough fingernails. It was time to make the call to the doctor.
All the signs point the same direction.
You’re wrong.
You’re wrong.
You’re wrong.
She’s right, and you’re wrong.
No.
The signs are wrong. They have to be wrong.
They have to be.
Right?
I wish you would just send me a sign, any sign that you feel the same way I do. Without signs there would be wrecks on the road.. The same thing can happen to my heart, my self esteem, my happiness.. I want to tell you that I love you, but you won’t send me any signs.. No good? No bad? Just nothing.. Signs are necessary so we don’t get hurt:. Show me something, anything. I just have this thirst to interpret. This thirst for closure. Please show me something so I can either let the chips fall where they may, or pack it all up and go home. I love you.. But I’m afraid to tell you.. Send me some signs.. Good or bad.. Just signs.
Signs are what allow the people travelling highways to know which direction to go, or not to go. Sometimes we see these as a metaphorical phenomena. What signs tell an individual is how they interpret them. Some people see a bird and see nothing while others take note of a drop in temperature or the wind picking up. The signs of a relationship about to bloom, or about to fail. The signs of a life being lived to its fullest are the successes while the signs of a boring life are its failures and lack of moving forward. Signs are not always in our faces, we have to look for them. We can’t always see them, or feel them, or hear them. Somehow we know that they are there. Our most basic instincts pay attention to signs and we move out of the way of an oncoming car, or we quickly catch someone peering at us from behind. Without signs, our lives would not have direction, our minds would forever be twirling through a vast expanse of aimless thoughts. We would not stop before danger, we would not go to find happiness.
As a supermarket worker, Emily had opportunity to see how everyone signed their names. Illegibly, like a seismograph recording; carefully, like the cursive on dotted lines her language arts teacher produced and reproduced in third grade; artistic, with z’s like hummingbirds and h’s like rocking chairs. She looked up articles on “what your handwriting tells about you” and from then on, she made up fantasies about her customer’s lives, but strict courtesy prevented her from asking, are you the teacher who spends half an hour organizing the classroom after everyone has left, popping up the stapler tops to see if they need refilling, looking for homework filed in the wrong period? When the lines waned at 9pm she tried signing her own name, but the cursive “E” always looked wrong. Like a woman with a frightful chin, or a sideways pair of buttocks.
Her friend Daisy shook her head at Emily. “Always the dreamy person.” Emily’s mind, like a pin, pressed without hesitation on an empty spot on a bulletin board. She found threads of thought to follow, even when they wound for miles without going anywhere. “If it were me, I would be bored out of my mind.” Waiting in line she was always bored, stared with narrowed eyes at the glamorous girls on the front pages of magazines, listening to the blips of UPC codes sliding across the counter like cars across a tollbooth.
The signs were subtle ones. Even Jay hadn’t noticed them before she looked back and thought. She’d once read in a book somewhere about a character falling in love “the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.” She sympathized with that a hundred percent, because while she hadn’t known she was falling until she was deeply bured in it, when she glanced back over her shoulder the little changes, the signs, were everywhere.
There are signs everywhere. I keep running away from the, yet no matter where i may turn, more appear. It is maddening. they follow me all the time. they know where i am going. how? i do not know.
I see them everywhere I go. They follow me; down the street, to the store, when I go inside my own home. I see them. Everywhere, I see them. Sometimes it’s horrifying, sometimes it’s soothing.
But most times, it’s unnerving.
I’m frightened of them.
The signs.
Everywhere.
The signs.
I’ve never told anyone of this. I keep it to myself. I’m scared of what they’ll think. They’ll think I’m mental. Insane. Crazy.
I don’t blame them. Sometimes I think the same thing.
Am I crazy?
For seeing these signs everywhere I go.
Those signs.
Oh, god, save me. Save me from the signs.
there are road signs,
signs of body language or signs of love,
Signs of hope
Sign language which helps a lot of people
you make signs for your favourite band.
I think of the different meaning of signs. the same sign can mean 2 different things depending in where you are like the peace sign in America where you hold 2 fingers up is offensive in Australia.
The signs on the road keep saying stop. We pass them and I always seem to wake up as they fly by. It is a miracle that my eyes can keep up with them at this speed. You hum away as you listen to the radio. Even when the car is silent you hum and I beg you to stop. Stop. Stop everything. The humming. The driving. The us.
There are different meanings to the word signs. Hand signs off of naruto, or signs from god, or lastly street signs/store signs.
Some said that there were signs in the stars. Not constellations–because Joey knew that was true, as he seen them every time he stepped outside on his porch in the middle of night–but real signs, signs that would light up if you looked at them in a funny way. He remembered (rather clearly) his mother telling him about the Sign of the North-West that she had seen when she was a young child, before she had died of the respiratory disease that had taken her father and her godmother from her. At the time, Joey had thought she was merely telling him a children’s story, but the pure green of the December sky was unnatural, frightening, and awe-inspiring all at the same time.
“Perhaps,” he said aloud to himself, “it was more than just a child’s story.”
In his mother’s story, the signs of Space had the power to transport you to different worlds, grant you any wish that you wanted, and live a long, happy life. She claimed that, as a child, she had spotted the purple sign–which, according to their ancestors, would let her find the love of her life in only but a year.
Joey wished that he knew what had happened–if she had met his father in such a short period. He would not know, because his father had been sent off in war for his tribe. It was something, Joey was sure, he was going to have to figure out for himself. He was going to have to travel long, and travel far, and there would possibly be no coming back. Joey had heard stories from his neighbors about how creatures roamed the rest of the world.
He had to wonder if they were true, like the signs.
If his mother’s story was true, then he would be able to go back, far back, to the time where he could meet the father he had never gotten to.
I’ve read lots of signs today but they didn’t give me the right directions to follow the wrong path towards the strange way that leads to something I still need to know what it is. Where does it come from?
Often times, we dismiss the signs. The signs that something may be wrong. Or off. Or actually right. We are blind. Blind to happiness and blind to sadness. Accepting the truth is the biggest sign we ignore.
All the signs were there. She should have seen it coming. From slight gestures, all the way up to the time I took her out to dinner and I insisted I pay. How could she not tell how I felt? I didn’t understand. Nor did I care. I just wanted her to notice.
Yeah yeah, signs are everywhere. When we ask for them, sometimes we see them but the we choose to ignore them, no? Sometimes when we see them, we ..
I don’t like what I’m writing. I just woke up. I’m tired.
There are subtle signs that a relationship is over. I like to ignore them. Pretend like the woman I’m dating still cares for me. For me, when I enter a relationship I’m committed and it’s not over until they say it’s over.
The signs were there. He was pulling away slowly and quietly. He took most of his painting supplies home last Sunday. This weekend he spent the whole time cooking foods to take to other people and then he scoured the house looking for clothes he may have left. Time to call a spade a spade. This relationship was over.
The signs that he gives you by coming up behind you and tickling you, gently stroking your hair and flashing you his incredible smile. Leading you on that he is going to ask you to go steady but no, its fake, all of it. Its just an act. He likes some other girl that’s prettier more popular and sleeps with guy she makes eye contact with. She isn’t good enough for you, you need some that’s listens to you, gets your humor and make you smile like i do. But its ok cause no matter what ill always just be waiting for you hoping that one day you will like me back. I lose hope every day.
marks about being help by god
She should’ve seen it coming sooner. Maybe she had, in a way, because she knew as soon as she saw the look on his face. Maybe it was that she hadn’t wanted to think about it coming, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that it was finally over, that everything was crumbling, even though she’d seen the signs all too clearly.
I should have seen the warning signs. At first, it was the tapping and eyes darting all over the room before the child’s face had started turning red. It was only a matter of time before he exploded and sent the entire day into chaos.
Signs. What are they? Do they show us where to go or what? Do we need them? I’ll go in the wrong direction. And what if I am happy? Signs. Why do we need them? I don’t.
There were the signs I suppose
I suffered from weak knees as a youth
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when it gave out,
and with it my dream-
My dream of swimming collegiate
The life I’d always wanted
Signs tell us something we didn’t know was there. They appear suddenly to us, but they’ve been there so much time. We just didn’t realize. Because we see what we want to see.
Signs of the times float over the air waves to me. The world is a wonderful horrible breathtaking difficult complex incomprehensible world, and I within it seek to follow my own path, complete my own journey.
The signs –
to me they all pointed me
in the same direction.
But he said he doesn’t believe
in signs.
Don’t do it the signs said to me
Do Not Do It!!!!!!
Die Zeichen waren überall. Über Türen, an den Schwellen, auf den Gleisen, auf den Fensterscheiben. Sie waren nicht groß, aber das Rot leuchtete weithin. So ein Rot hatte ich bisher nur bei Sonnenuntergängen gesehen. Die Menschen schauten die Zeichen an und sie schauten einander an. Niemand stellte Fragen.
You know, the signs are everywhere. They have been for years. Apparently I was the only one who was looking. I love you more than anyone can imagine. I love you for your weirdness, your strange desire to pair mayonnaise and cottage cheese and eat it at 1 in the morning every night. Your weird quirks and our random dance parties in the kitchen. But you don’t seem to even care. You’ve never loved me at all.
Signs are from Above. From your guts. Signs are everywhere. In everything. On the roads. In nature. You just got to see them right and you will know everything is trying to tell you something.
Signs!
People give you signs too. On how they feel and so do you. Heed the signs you receive. And understand them. And make wiser choices in life. Sign your life!