I've been following Soulscum for a while now. I don't know what he wants. I don't know why he's here. All I know is that he's left behind a string of broken storefronts and mass hysteria.
I had to do something about him.
He stopped to look through a window. "Maybe he's scoping the place out" I thought to myself. But he turned his head like he recognized something in there. That's when I realized where we were.
Soulscum was squatting right in front of my friend Tim's antique store. Lucy was inside trying to clean the place up a...
I never liked black and white photos, it's because I don't see colours well and everything looks blurry. Can't make out shapes or faces. So I don't really know what my parents looked like when they were younger let alone anyone older.
Thing is, there was something odd about this particular snap. As though it was alive. My fingers felt wet,salt in the air and I could have sworn that there was sand between my toes, they had that uncomfortable gritty feeling. Coincidence or not, gulls flew overhead, circling, making me jump with their loud shrill cry. Then I heard...
Delia placed fifth in the science fair. For her project, she sliced a potato in half and put each side in its own tupperware container. One side, she sealed shut with a top. The other, she left open.
On the posterboard she wrote "This is what happens when oxygen affects a potato."
Michael's was next to her. He strung miniature light bulbs with wire to show how electricity works. His posterboard was the sturdy kind, with its three foldable panels. He got first place.
Delia hit puberty at twelve. Michael did not. He ate more french fries than ever. He...
A figure made of darkness, shadow. Silent. As I try to ignore my phantom I diligently type at my keyboard, words flow, meaningless and easy. This job is slowly driving me mad. I shiver and tell myself it has nothing to do with the shade silently observing me. How could it? There is no shade. If I were to turn, look directly at it, that would be the end. Or the beginning I suppose, rather depends on how you look at it. The end of sanity, the beginning of full fledged madness. How many years have I struggled to ignore...
He grimaced as the flash went off, realizing too late that the final extant image of himself would so clearly portray the unease he was feeling at that moment. All well, he thought -- better that way.
On the one-off cedar deck table he had placed his remaining possessions. The cool glass beneath had the strange optical effect of making them seem blurred, though he knew his exhaustion was catching up with him.
"Ok, what do we do now?" he said to himself. Another sign, he chuckled, that things were going terribly.
He grabbed his smart phone first, and, unsurprised...
I remember when I was a kid. I sat on the edge of my father's car, waiting for him come home from his walks. I would go there to think sometimes, puzzling over my day. But today, 18 years later, I sit in silence.
I'm not waiting for anyone.
I'm thinking, though.
About my father. He's dead.
He doesn't go on his daily walks anymore, never will. I climb in the car, embracing his scent, closing my eyes and taking it all in. I live alone, no wife, no children. But they won't meet their grandfather.
I loved him. He...
"I hate him. He could get hit by a car randomly in the street, and it wouldn't matter to me. It would probably make my days better."
Anyway, it happened. It would. And so then the whole school was plunged into mourning of varying depths. Mourning of the grievous type, and mourning of the more celebratory kind.
Let's be honest. He made everyone's life miserable. He never bothered to even sit. His room was the hallway, not a desk.
The administrator who suspended him that day couldn't stop questioning himself: could I have done more? Should I have done it?...
He set the plate before her. It was barely covered, a thin, fatty slice of what looked like baloney slapped alongside hard, molding bread. It had been arranged carelessly, lazily, and the boy snarled at her before he left, sliding the table back with his exit as he walked away, back into the kitchen. Sighing, Alina pulled the plate towards her chest, her elbows banging against the table as she slid the meat off the plate and diligently placed it on the bread, bracing herself for the stale taste as she chewed purposefully. The apartment was empty, the walls barren...
"Mallard duck," she said, just before she placed the binoculars back down on the car hood. "No doubt about it."
This was the third time she had drug my out to this place to observe ducks. Or, in her words, to "administer some duck justice."
"Do we really need to be here this early in the morning," I asked. "I didn't sleep very well."
"This is when they're most active," she told me. "This is when they feed most, and that's when they pick on him."
"Him" was a duck with, so she said, a clipped wing of some sort....
This was Leifs first night as the priest of Odin, his teacher was long gone and it was his first time prepareing the cermony for tomorrow.
Looking at the moon, he noticed that a Raven was already in the oak tree where the thrall would be hanged tomorrow. He went to her enclosure, the red head that had been catched dureing a raid on the green island.
When he got there he realised she was the most beautifull girl he had ever said, her red hair and green eyes was going inside the full of him.
Her jailer was comming...