The gate closed behind them. That is what George wanted me to convey to his grieving son. I did not understand what this meant but it is part of the course of being a messenger for the dead. You don't really know the significance of what you are being told.
The worst part of all this was trying to tell people their loved ones want to them to know something. Many will be very rude to you, others will ignore you. The part of it I dislike the most is when you know they are so vulnerable they will misinterpret...
Four minutes away from the burn point, one of the telltales switched from green to red. Tears streamed from my eyes, flowing back fast into my ears. The compression collar held my head in an unshakable grip. I flicked from gauge to gauge, moving only my eyes.
We were pulling seven Gs on the spinning turn, squeezing as much boost velocity as possible from the flyby. Apparently, the strain had been too much for the secondary backup fuel pump. The main primary pump and its backup were still reading green, and the main secondary was still green as well. The...
The tigers snarled at each other as they fought over the prize. Eyes narrowed, they watched for the slightest hesitation, the smallest weakness, in their enemy's eyes and stance. Finally, the larger of the two feinted to the left, then ran right with his booty. Quickly, the other followed as the world waited with baited breath.
Then, it happened. The great tiger leapt away from his pursuer, seeming to soar. The buzzer went off a split second after the ball dropped into the net and the crowd roared as the score changed: 63-59.
"I guess not everything's better in Metter,"...
Fault.
It wasn't mine. It wasn't his. I'm not sure it was anyone's, really.
I think it considered itself its own fault, kind of a Frank Sinatra "I did it my way," "I'm my own man" sort of thing. No one was going to tell it what to do or when it was allowed to slip, and how much. If it wanted to let off little 3.5s every couple of months, it would, and if it decided to store up for a 9.9, that was its own business!
And I figured it wasn't really my business to interfere. I would've...
Dressed as a blue cow-like demon, the boy started taking pictures of the wall. The camera was heavy in his small ungloved hands. When he pressed the red button on the top an audible click could be heard and helped persuade him to take as many pictures as quickly as possible to hear that sound in rapid succession.
The camera was his fathers, an old one, one that was locked up until the recent garage sell his mother had. When she got to the box labeled 'Dave's' she sat on it and cried. It was a welcomed moment and she...
It wasn't entirely fair. It wasn't.
You knew it wasn't.
See that one in the back? She's yours, right?
The one barely visible?
The safe one.
That one is yours.
The one in front? Not yours, not really. Not the same way.
Polka dots. Something Sandra bought her the last time you...well, the last time.
Sandra. She's not your either, not anymore. In the end, she wasn't safe. Not really.
It's the eyes, isn't it? The eyes that get you. Maybe the sun - the way it seems to be an answering presence, a judging presence. Judging...her? You? But not...
It approached. Lisa's heartbeat quickened, her skin growing clammy, the room swimming. Oh my god, she thought, this can't be happening.
It came further - black and menacing, eyeing up it's latest victim.
Lisa knew she should do somehting, but fear had paralysed her. She couldn't think straight.
It stopped. Staring. Staring straight at her. Probably waiting to pounce.
She scanned the room, desperately looking for something she could use as a weapon. Nothing. Nothing that would do much damage, what could she do throw a pillow at it?
Without warning, it began to move again; faster than before. Almost...
I'm trapped. I came to the beach, ready to relax. Ready to escape my work, and every annoying person in my life. But now I'm caught in a storm. I don't see anyone, it's just me. A large palm tree accompanies me, falling over more every second. He's dying, just like I will. Can I run into someone's house? There are abandoned beach houses, probably locked. The storm rages even louder. It's thumping reminds me of my boss, ready to kill whoever used his coffee machine. I see waves start to form. Large ones. They threaten to destroy me. Wash...
Safura was stalking her victim. Through the cobbled streets, around the market barrows, past the gates of the jail and under the washing lines strung between the slum buildings of the poor. The bones of an ox; she already had these. The teeth of a hound; yes, these too. Now all she needed was a few drops of blood taken directly from the heart of an innocent child.
The little girl stopped to buy an apple at a stall. Safura waited in the shadows behind. Jane, the stall holder, gave the child a rosy fruit and smiled at her.
"It's...
The room kept spinning for the delicate human. You could tell by the way it swayed in its place on the floor beneath the feet of the beast. It only had seconds to live before the creature dug into its chest cavity for meat. "M-make it quick..." the feeble meat-sack uttered in its primitive language.
The demon snickered in its own language and burrowed its snout into the stomach of the human, tossing blood-soaked pieces of security guard this way and that. The animal was a mad thing, unknown to any kingdom or phylum on the planet, Earth.
And it...