“Seagull nest, Woodwards Vancouver 2005” by Julia at Saving Gigi

From Views by Lincoln Clarkes

Saturday, May 12, 2012 at Saving Gigi
3:09 PM
5 minutes

Lincoln Clarkes

Adam had an idea and it was born out of the desire to control something. He wanted to pick up a seagull’s egg and smash it on the ground, stomp on it, spit on it. He thought about dropping it from the roof top to watch it splatter, baby bird legs curled up, baby bird feathers all wet and shriveled.
Adam knew that this would mean more than just a nasty habit for destruction.
He didn’t know what else to do. His urge, controlling him, he wanted that no longer.
He set out one sunny Saturday afternoon and he carried with him a net, a couple of nails, and his bow and arrow. He had been taking archery lessons on Saturday afternoons for the past three months. This, he thought, could still be considered practice. It was after all in the exact same time slot as his lessons.
Adam hadn’t pre-planned to kill anything that day. He only wanted to bring his tools for ‘just in case purposes’. Self defense, mostly. A little bit of exaggerated danger, probably.
In his rubber boots he trudged across the open farm land, ready to be seeded, and and set up camp by a large tree covered in ants.

“And now here I am” by Sasha in a taxi on the way home

Friday, May 12, 2012
5 minutes
The Help
Kathryn Stockett

It’s three in the morning.
I left Amsterdam on Wednesday.
This is what I know.
“Now what?” You ask, over and over.
I want to give you something. Something meaningful. But I don’t know if you like flowers or chocolate or a card or wine or salty peanuts. I don’t know what you like.
I don’t remember.
It’s three in the morning and I left Amsterdam on Wednesday and I have a cut on my thigh that should have gotten stitches.
This is what I know.
You keep letting this small grey cat come into the room where I sleep.
It curls around the top of my head.
I can feel it’s purring in the tip of my nose.
“Whose cat is this?” I ask.
“Yours.” You say.
I don’t remember what you looked like before but I know that you look older.
It’s like you do and don’t want me back here.
With the unopened mail and the weeds in the garden and this cat.
I should have gotten stitches.