The children were not at school. It was the first snow day of the season, and the buses couldn't get their engines started, so the Board of Education had no choice but to cancel classes. Tyler's parents decided to let him sleep in, but when he awoke at 10 o'clock, Tyler panicked. He leaped out of bed, grabbed his jeans and wiggled into them, pulled a crumpled sweater from his drawer and jammed it on over his pajama shirt, and ran down the hallway to the kitchen, all the while yelling "I'm late for school! I'm late for school! Mom!...
That was the last thing she saw.
It was headed straight for her chest, a glittering blade, and she saw it in slow-motion. After that, however, all she saw was blackness.
The killer straightened up after her last convulsive shudders were over. He wiped the knife almost as an afterthought on his torn jeans. His face betrayed no emotion. He walked away slowly but deliberately from the crime scene, over to a payphone. The street was deserted, the sky, blank. Slipping his hand in his pocket, the killer took out a quarter and placed it in the machine. He dialed...
Sheila tsk-tsked as she massaged the Ben-Gay into Devin's shoulder. "I told you to leave the shuttlecock practice alone for a few weeks," she scolded.
"I was bored," protested Devin. "I'm an athlete; I can't just sit around all day poking at my Facebook. It's bad for the soul."
"Well," Sheila said, kneading the muscles, "you'll be totally off this shoulder for a few days now. You're lucky you don't need a cast." She stood up from the massage table, walking over to the microwave. Inside she'd heated up a herbal tea, and she removed it now and brought it...
Immoveable objects.
She'd presumed that they were just an illustrive device - the nemesis of the unstoppable force. It hadn't occurred to her that, actually, they did exist.
Why they existed in a forest was another matter entirely. It wasn't exactly clear (well, the object was, that was why she couldn't see it) why an immoveable object should want to be in a forest. Was there something about forests that made it such a rich environment, suited to objects that resisted force?
Walking around it didn't seem to be an option - immoveable and apparently large. Impossibly large. It was...
"I'm in love with a robot."
"No, you aren't."
"I am. I'm in love with a robot. Honestly."
"That isn't love, and that definitely doesn't count as a robot. It's..."
"I'm not talking about that." She flushed. "You are disgusting sometimes."
I was fairly certain I was disgusting most of the time. Possibly all the time. "So, what is this, in love with a robot? What robot is it? Can you get upgrades, software patches, apps?"
She shook her head. "It's a character. Well. An avatar."
"Oh, this just gets better and better. Is there a real person behind it,...
It sucked not to be able to find another vent in the city.
Vents.
Those things were the single most useful thing in the city to people like him. And didn't they know it. Which is why any available one was claimed before anyone else had a chance to glance at it.
Hot warm air constantly blew out of it, becoming a source of warmth to huddle towards.
Sure they were right in the middle of the streets, and occupying one drew weird stares from others, but after a while, it wasn't so bad. One learned to ignore their stares,...
We've heard of monkeys. All kinds of monkeys. We've heard that we're most closely genetically related to bonobos, we've heard about the flying monkeys of Oz, but what we certainly haven't heard enough about is the infamous "Green Monkeys of Bainsville." You're wondering, what are these fascinating creatures, and where do they originate? Well, if you don't know where Bainsville is...you probably never will. It's tiny. It's known for little else than it's rest stop, although it should be known for it's green monkeys. These devilish little creatures love nothing more than getting up to good old fashioned South Glengarry...
I did it just like they told me to: I jumped. Well, that was stupid. I jumped, I hit the ground and never got up again. But, then again, they don't care. They never even looked to see me land. A piece of advice, kids: don't jump. I don't care why you're thinking about it, where you are, or what you think they'll give you for it, you're gonna lose something. For me, I lost everything, but then again, that doesn't matter.
"Give me the pelican!" John said. His gun, a very large and impressive gun if you are familiar with the ins and outs of guns, was pointed at Adam's chest.
"Okay," Adam said. He lifted the bird, which squawked and flapped its wings rapidly and held it out to John. "Take it," he said. John continued pointing the gun at Adam's chest, staring at the middle of his forehead. What was the game here? John had been chasing Adam across continents and time zones, on airplanes and zeppelins and double-decker buses, all to obtain this pelican. And now, on the...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She had just wrapped up a long evening answering the phone in her family's restaurant. She took the orders, and her brother and father cooked the food, while her mother ran the counter in the front of the neon food stall.
She was waiting for her best friend, but it looked like it was going to be a longer wait than usual. As she looked down at her red gown, she ran her hands over the cotton fabric and smoothed out some wrinkles, then created some...