"If you weren't strumming that chord over and over, I might think you were asleep," said Howard.
"Yeah, you might be forgiven for thinking that," replied Memmy. "No, I just rest my head on the body of the guitar. Here. Like this." Memmy's head didn't move. It was already on the body of the guitar.
"Don't you guys play electic guitars," asked Howard.
Memmy didn't look up. "Not when we're depressed. Hey, hand me that bottle, would you?"
"Which bottle?" asked Howard.
"The one that's not empty," said Memmy. He still hadn't looked up.
Howard shook several in sequence. One...
Not that I mind being dead. It's nothing to be saved from, really. Oh, at first believe me, I railed against it, bracing myself for whatever fight or hell lay before me. But after about an hour it seemed pretty clear to me that nothing was going to happen.
Literally, nothing happens when you are dead. To from your own view point anyway. Granted, I do not have a body to call my own anymore, but being dead feels surprisingly like being alive does. Only with less worry. And not taxes of course.
But if you can read this, and...
Write as you please, in six minutes, like a breeze.
They make it sound so easy, like it is as easy as taking a bath or brushing your hair. Omitting the fact that it is actually quite challenging, a formidable task, failing to mention the fire details.
Then again, I guess, to an elderly person or someone who is physically impaired, bathing and brushing might be considered challenging too.
So I am sitting here, in this large, airy room, surrounded by other nervous candidates, trying to recall everything that I have learned over the past six moths, endeavouring to capture...
The plumber did not arrive on time. Later I found out he'd been fishing in Plantation Lake, that place near Kingswood with the wooden shack, boats for hire and nasty looking employees that always gave me the shivers.
Luckily I managed to run the hot taps and circumvented a disaster with the overflow. Called in sick so I could monitor the situation, spent most of the time going between the bathroom, tv and excercise bike.
Tom, the plumber never did fix the problem. He drowned, his line tangled with something the few available witnesses described as 'unexplainable to identify'.
An...
Fault.
Such a familiar word.
Im not sure what it means and what it looks like but i can feel it.
I feel it for a long time since i can't remember.
I feel it brings heavy and pain.
People see me, im nervous.
Their pain eyes.
Their sorry eyes.
Their cynical eyes.
Their fellow eyes.
I'm going home.
I look in the mirror to find what people saw in me.
I can't get anything.
Ok, im going to sleep.
...
I wake up.
Remembering that last night i dreamt of my Mom wrote my middle name; Lauft, for hundred...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
This was not the day to be squeamish. This was the day her daughter would be returned. Unharmed.
The finger was the wrong size and shape. John, when he overcame his initial shock, told her it was plastic.
They had both made the decision not to tell the police, followed the kidnapper's instructions to the letter.
So why was the envelope sent? A reminder of what could happen or was there something else going on?
Whilst Megan was making a cup of tea, John wondered whether to tell her about the tiny photo he...
"Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked
"No I don't." she replied
"You're about to."
The doors opened wide with their bottoms scrapping across the wooden panelled floor. The light shone out in a thing line and then a bigger line and then a rectangle and then eclipsed the entire room in thick white light.
She turned to him with fear in her eyes. She was quaking in her little boots, her little hands started shaking too, she searched for comfort. He held out his hand.
"All good things" he started, require a leap of faith..."
She looked him in...
They were right in front of him, huddled on the stage. Fred checked his cell phone and saw the show started in ten minutes. If he didn't have those marionettes in his possession before then, the world would end. Or at least this theater. But since his wife and daughter were in the audience, it might as well be the whole world.
"Nice try, Fred," a voice sounded behind him. Judy. She, the hater of all things puppets and puppet lovers, had planted the bomb in one of the heads. "But if you move, I'll put a bullet through your...
She tried online forums, crosswords, excercise, volunteering for charity. Church, self help books, counselling. Crafts, writing, setting up websites, interior design, feng shui, alternative therapy. Gratitude. Socialising. This was the latest fad.
More boyfriends than anyone else in the town. Popular, all ages, all gender everyone wanted to be her friend. Yet, all she felt was the pervading sense of loneliness. Years of 'if only I had .........' then I would feel happy. Envious reading about lightbulb moments, lives changed, passions followed, fulfillment for the rest of their days.
She wondered what on earth was wrong. Karma from past lives?...
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room.
Honestly, it's quite off-putting. He's just standing there... staring. Always. I tried staring back to try and get him to push off. But it backfired horribly. He smiled at me. Not just any smile, either. He made it the worst smile ever. His face was just the wrong set for a smile.
In fact, everything was wrong about him. His head was oddly shaped, like a rock bashed against a wall. His arms were thin and spindly, threatening to snap off in the gentle breeze of my fan. His chest was...