“You have to invite me in. That’s how it works.”
I was surprised. “O…kay. You can come in.”
He swept me aside, and instantly I regretted my thoughtless decision.
A visitor to professionalism, the woman couldn’t help but wonder if Workland had a gift shop. Stepping into the role of the wise and stoic instructor, she opened the online class’ forum and adjusted her Jedi pjs. It was going to be an interesting night.
She didn’t know what she was doing here. She didn’t belong here. But there she was anyway. Everyone was staring at her too. They knew she didn’t belong. Oh fuck it.
Excuse me, do you know where I can find Mr Grant?
Blink. Not here.
How do you mean?
Joe
The doorbell rang in the middle of the night when the sky was the darkest and the stars were the brightest. Ansel climbed out of bed with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his eyes. There should be no one this late at his door and he wasn’t expecting anyone other than the sandman to ever see him this late. And yet again the sound rang though the house.
One word. That’s it.
Words cannot describe everything.
You see,
one word.
Isn’t all it seems.
People over estimate
one word.
the also
under estimate.
one word.
Amanda
He came in the deepest, darkest night, though the planet Jupiter may have been out and about. I remember only on thing about him – his coat, glimmering like it was made outta thousands of scarab beetle shells. And I think it actually was ma
When I get sad, all I really want is a visitor. Someone to come to me and say that they came to visit me, and to check on me. I think that if someone came to visit me, to show me they cared, I would be alright. Because all I want is a friend. Is a visitor.
Naomi
I’m just a visitor in your lives. I come and I go. I’m done with asking questions. I’m not meant to stay.
she stands in the blanket of autumn leaves that always seem to cover your yard no matter how much you rake it. the full moon shines bright above us, but the clouds are ready to swallow it up and digest it back into the universe so maybe these stars barely reaching the human eye are the only way to lead us back home.
He was greeted by a visitor. But not just any visitor. This one was special. He had that look about him that created a sense of intimidation, yet hospitable.
Spencer Peck
“You have a visitor, my dear.”
I crane my head from my Chekhov anthology. Torn away from the cherry orchard for a bit. The red blossoms dissipate for a dark face. Thick, black beard. Watery smile.
“Howard?”
“Came to see you, girl,” he purred. “Heard you weren’t feeling well.”
“Pretty obvious, huh?” I sneered, gesticulating at the IV drilled into my arm. I smiled as he waved a bouquet of tulips at me.
Belinda Roddie
there was a knock at the door and as I rose to answer it I wondered who my visitor could possibly be… would be a travelling salesman? Someone from jehovah’s witness perhaps?? Bringing me to god? Why did they even feel the need to go door to door, there had to be a better way to convince people to convert that wouldn’t make home owners angry and wary of answering the door.
Emmah-Jane
new comer, here for small time, one time comer, will not stay forever.
taran h
this friendly old man came into an inn about 5 years ago and told me all about his dangerous journey through the battlefield of love
Sofia
There was a knock at the door. It was past midnight, and Judy was suspicious. Who could be visiting at this hour? She turned off the light. Maybe they won’t notice I’m home, she thought.
The faint scent of his arrival gave me a pleasant feeling. It was astonishing, but nevertheless not welcome. The fact that he smiled at me was a lovely gesture, and made my stomach flutter quickly, as I shyly returned the smile. I love him. So much.
Iza
She’d wanted a visitor for a long time. The cold, damp walls of the prison cell couldn’t compare to the sadness of her solitude. She questioned whether there really was anything left for her.
a strange visitor from outerspace arrives to destroy the earth. these visitors are not welcome here. sometimes a visitor comes to your house to bring cookies and cinnamon rolls. some bring diseases. aliens come for war, to destroy our tiny planet and claim it as their own. they do not know how to make cinnamon rolls.
jamie
There was a strange visitor at the door. “Do I know you?”, I asked politely, hoping my courtesy disguised the slight trepidation in my voice. “No, but I know you.” Ah. “What was your name, sorry?” Silence. “I know you.” And all my fears came true.
dear friend, im happy that you decided to shine some light in the dark corner I call my home. May I offer you rest on your journey, and warmth from the winter chin. Curl up by the fire that manifests in my heart. I will open my door to you, and you will find a home in me
a.r.
I learned that when we are a visitor we can’t stay more than a few days. It’s a matter of etiquette. A visitor must be polite and not turn a weight.
The birds called out warning signals as this peculiar visitor stalked about below. The animals peered out from their hiding places to get a better look at this stranger.
THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME I HAVE GOTTEN VISITOR AND I AM SICK OF WRITING ABOUT THIS FACELESS, EMOTIONLESS, TERRIBLE PERSON. WHY WON’T HE SHOW HIMSELF. WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO HIDE. HE’S THE ONE KNOCKING ON MY DOOR, WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO INTRODUCE MYSELF FIRST
There was a knock at the door. The visitor did not stay for long, though.
His name?
Opportunity.
He is a fleeting person, a busy man with other people to grace and help and hurt. He is forever leaving us.
Caitlin Rulli
There was a visitor at the door, but he did not stay long. His name?
Opportunity.
Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor, after all.
He stays for a brief, fleeting moment, and then whisks himself away.
Caitlin Rulli
Come. Do not worry. I will take you in. You are my visitor, the one person that I have been waiting to see. Did you not know? Well, now you do. Buck up. You are here for one reason, and one reason only. Do you mean that you do not know? Well that’s good. We have one thing in common. So come in. I need you now.
Gabs
The visitor walked slowly throughout the tavern, his feet dragging and shuffling. The people occcupying the tavern looked away, frightened by his ominous figure
Kiya
A spy came in from the cold, as John le Carre might say. Although it wasn’t cold, it was 112 degrees in the Arabian desert, and we didn’t call her a spy, she was a CIA spook. As in, put the fear of God and country into your heart if you don’t do exactly what she says.
Knock on my door. Surprise me when Im in my ugly sweatpants and I’m not wearing a bra. If I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, even better. I’ll probably be watching Netflix and wishing you were beside me, and if you showed up, I’d probably cry and kiss you on the spot. Tell me you loe me and you’e been an asshole. Beg my forgiveness. I’ll give it. I’ve given it already. Every day as I wash my face, as I walk to class. It’s spelled out in my pho and in the foam of my chai latte I get when I want to be arty. lift me up and take me home, which I’ll find anywhere I’m in your arms.
Trejon
i had a visitor last night. a silent slinking visitor on my balcony. At first all i saw were shadows by the street light and wasnt sure if it was friend or foe. I opened the door for a peek and it was a skinny little alley cat prowling around looking for trouble. I startled her and she hopped down onto the garage roof, fetched her teenage kittens and moved on down the lane.
There was a knock at the door. A visitor. I thought I knew who it was. I ran to the door delighted. I’d waited for this day for so long. But I opened the door only to be proved wrong. It was not my soon to be boyfriend but my friend Chase. “Chase?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
Maggie Nelson
I am a vistor here. A tourist, in a place that should be my hoe. Whether I am here or I am there, I don’t really belong. I don’t really belong anywhere. I am a visitor to my life.
There was a visitor here, he brought with him a vase of daisies and a small yellow cart. He had the sky in his eyes and the world in his mouth and he stood me all the things I hadn’t known about and he was mine and I was his and that was the story of my visitor, the one who refused to linger for a chat over coffee.
I want a visitor. I often feel like I’m waiting. I think that’s why stories like Peter Pan and Doctor Who appeal to me so much. I want someone to show up and change my life. I wan’t proof that I’m maybe worth something I haven’t yet acknowledged.
he had a visitor. he was a short, stout older man and i remembered him. he used to work with my dad. they were really good friends. would go to the games with each other and everything. now, my dad didn’t even remember him.
There was a knock
At the door
He had returned
The never ending visitor
The one who wouldn’t disappear
She hid behind the heavy curtain
Begging
Disappear
Wishing
Yearning for the end
Torment
The knock came again
A visitor at the back door. The wind, maybe? Not a friendly one. Scout curiously peeks her head around the corner, whiskers leading the way and tail swishing with anticipation. No one ever comes in through there.
“You have to invite me in. That’s how it works.”
I was surprised. “O…kay. You can come in.”
He swept me aside, and instantly I regretted my thoughtless decision.
A visitor to professionalism, the woman couldn’t help but wonder if Workland had a gift shop. Stepping into the role of the wise and stoic instructor, she opened the online class’ forum and adjusted her Jedi pjs. It was going to be an interesting night.
She didn’t know what she was doing here. She didn’t belong here. But there she was anyway. Everyone was staring at her too. They knew she didn’t belong. Oh fuck it.
Excuse me, do you know where I can find Mr Grant?
Blink. Not here.
How do you mean?
The doorbell rang in the middle of the night when the sky was the darkest and the stars were the brightest. Ansel climbed out of bed with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his eyes. There should be no one this late at his door and he wasn’t expecting anyone other than the sandman to ever see him this late. And yet again the sound rang though the house.
One word. That’s it.
Words cannot describe everything.
You see,
one word.
Isn’t all it seems.
People over estimate
one word.
the also
under estimate.
one word.
He came in the deepest, darkest night, though the planet Jupiter may have been out and about. I remember only on thing about him – his coat, glimmering like it was made outta thousands of scarab beetle shells. And I think it actually was ma
When I get sad, all I really want is a visitor. Someone to come to me and say that they came to visit me, and to check on me. I think that if someone came to visit me, to show me they cared, I would be alright. Because all I want is a friend. Is a visitor.
I’m just a visitor in your lives. I come and I go. I’m done with asking questions. I’m not meant to stay.
she stands in the blanket of autumn leaves that always seem to cover your yard no matter how much you rake it. the full moon shines bright above us, but the clouds are ready to swallow it up and digest it back into the universe so maybe these stars barely reaching the human eye are the only way to lead us back home.
I feel like a visitor in my own skin.
life is kind of rough that way
He was greeted by a visitor. But not just any visitor. This one was special. He had that look about him that created a sense of intimidation, yet hospitable.
“You have a visitor, my dear.”
I crane my head from my Chekhov anthology. Torn away from the cherry orchard for a bit. The red blossoms dissipate for a dark face. Thick, black beard. Watery smile.
“Howard?”
“Came to see you, girl,” he purred. “Heard you weren’t feeling well.”
“Pretty obvious, huh?” I sneered, gesticulating at the IV drilled into my arm. I smiled as he waved a bouquet of tulips at me.
there was a knock at the door and as I rose to answer it I wondered who my visitor could possibly be… would be a travelling salesman? Someone from jehovah’s witness perhaps?? Bringing me to god? Why did they even feel the need to go door to door, there had to be a better way to convince people to convert that wouldn’t make home owners angry and wary of answering the door.
new comer, here for small time, one time comer, will not stay forever.
this friendly old man came into an inn about 5 years ago and told me all about his dangerous journey through the battlefield of love
There was a knock at the door. It was past midnight, and Judy was suspicious. Who could be visiting at this hour? She turned off the light. Maybe they won’t notice I’m home, she thought.
I am a visitor.
I get fake smiles, forced laughs, careless greetings, and unneeded help.
Do they not think I see through?
The faint scent of his arrival gave me a pleasant feeling. It was astonishing, but nevertheless not welcome. The fact that he smiled at me was a lovely gesture, and made my stomach flutter quickly, as I shyly returned the smile. I love him. So much.
She’d wanted a visitor for a long time. The cold, damp walls of the prison cell couldn’t compare to the sadness of her solitude. She questioned whether there really was anything left for her.
Are the plates worthy enough? Should I change the paper napkins to cloth? I hate when my mom visits.
a strange visitor from outerspace arrives to destroy the earth. these visitors are not welcome here. sometimes a visitor comes to your house to bring cookies and cinnamon rolls. some bring diseases. aliens come for war, to destroy our tiny planet and claim it as their own. they do not know how to make cinnamon rolls.
There was a strange visitor at the door. “Do I know you?”, I asked politely, hoping my courtesy disguised the slight trepidation in my voice. “No, but I know you.” Ah. “What was your name, sorry?” Silence. “I know you.” And all my fears came true.
dear friend, im happy that you decided to shine some light in the dark corner I call my home. May I offer you rest on your journey, and warmth from the winter chin. Curl up by the fire that manifests in my heart. I will open my door to you, and you will find a home in me
I learned that when we are a visitor we can’t stay more than a few days. It’s a matter of etiquette. A visitor must be polite and not turn a weight.
The birds called out warning signals as this peculiar visitor stalked about below. The animals peered out from their hiding places to get a better look at this stranger.
THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME I HAVE GOTTEN VISITOR AND I AM SICK OF WRITING ABOUT THIS FACELESS, EMOTIONLESS, TERRIBLE PERSON. WHY WON’T HE SHOW HIMSELF. WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO HIDE. HE’S THE ONE KNOCKING ON MY DOOR, WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO INTRODUCE MYSELF FIRST
There was a knock at the door. The visitor did not stay for long, though.
His name?
Opportunity.
He is a fleeting person, a busy man with other people to grace and help and hurt. He is forever leaving us.
There was a visitor at the door, but he did not stay long. His name?
Opportunity.
Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor, after all.
He stays for a brief, fleeting moment, and then whisks himself away.
Come. Do not worry. I will take you in. You are my visitor, the one person that I have been waiting to see. Did you not know? Well, now you do. Buck up. You are here for one reason, and one reason only. Do you mean that you do not know? Well that’s good. We have one thing in common. So come in. I need you now.
The visitor walked slowly throughout the tavern, his feet dragging and shuffling. The people occcupying the tavern looked away, frightened by his ominous figure
A spy came in from the cold, as John le Carre might say. Although it wasn’t cold, it was 112 degrees in the Arabian desert, and we didn’t call her a spy, she was a CIA spook. As in, put the fear of God and country into your heart if you don’t do exactly what she says.
Knock on my door. Surprise me when Im in my ugly sweatpants and I’m not wearing a bra. If I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, even better. I’ll probably be watching Netflix and wishing you were beside me, and if you showed up, I’d probably cry and kiss you on the spot. Tell me you loe me and you’e been an asshole. Beg my forgiveness. I’ll give it. I’ve given it already. Every day as I wash my face, as I walk to class. It’s spelled out in my pho and in the foam of my chai latte I get when I want to be arty. lift me up and take me home, which I’ll find anywhere I’m in your arms.
i had a visitor last night. a silent slinking visitor on my balcony. At first all i saw were shadows by the street light and wasnt sure if it was friend or foe. I opened the door for a peek and it was a skinny little alley cat prowling around looking for trouble. I startled her and she hopped down onto the garage roof, fetched her teenage kittens and moved on down the lane.
There was a knock at the door. A visitor. I thought I knew who it was. I ran to the door delighted. I’d waited for this day for so long. But I opened the door only to be proved wrong. It was not my soon to be boyfriend but my friend Chase. “Chase?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
I am a vistor here. A tourist, in a place that should be my hoe. Whether I am here or I am there, I don’t really belong. I don’t really belong anywhere. I am a visitor to my life.
There was a visitor here, he brought with him a vase of daisies and a small yellow cart. He had the sky in his eyes and the world in his mouth and he stood me all the things I hadn’t known about and he was mine and I was his and that was the story of my visitor, the one who refused to linger for a chat over coffee.
I want a visitor. I often feel like I’m waiting. I think that’s why stories like Peter Pan and Doctor Who appeal to me so much. I want someone to show up and change my life. I wan’t proof that I’m maybe worth something I haven’t yet acknowledged.
he had a visitor. he was a short, stout older man and i remembered him. he used to work with my dad. they were really good friends. would go to the games with each other and everything. now, my dad didn’t even remember him.
There was a knock
At the door
He had returned
The never ending visitor
The one who wouldn’t disappear
She hid behind the heavy curtain
Begging
Disappear
Wishing
Yearning for the end
Torment
The knock came again
A visitor at the back door. The wind, maybe? Not a friendly one. Scout curiously peeks her head around the corner, whiskers leading the way and tail swishing with anticipation. No one ever comes in through there.