She walked slowly, the sound of her shoes crunching the leaves beneath her. Her dark, brown curls fell on to her shoulders, and her snow-white skirt blew in the wind. To a passer-by, she was simply a stranger. A beautiful stranger, in fact, but in reality, her soul was darker than the night of a new moon. Nobody knew what she had done. The cute, innocent farm girl was not as virtuous as she seemed.
Sarah was really thirsty.
So, she picked up the bottle of Vodka and took a huge swig. She's done this repeatedly throught the course of the day.
Yep. Still thirsty.
Maybe not sober...but then again, this isn't the point.
"Sarah?" she heard someone call her. Her name continued to be repeated throught her apartment. Of course, no one would think she would be where she is. If she's lucky, whoever is looking for her would continue their search elsewhere.
And by elsewhere, she meant anywhere but here.
The door opened, and light stabbed her eyes causing Sarah to groan.
"Sarah!"...
It was happening again. Blindfolded, naked, cold and shivering she sat on a chair. She could see herself, as if she was detached from her body. Blood and saliva dripped from her lip and her right eye was swelling from where her attacker had punched her. She had tried to fight him off but he had sneaked up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. She had thought she would suffocate as he squeeze the breath from her body. Blackness surrounded her as she passed out. When she came to she was in the boot of car. She couldn't...
Water. Surrounded her from every direction on the huge cruise ship. She loved being out in the ocean, looking out as far as she could see and seeing nothing but water.
Her husband, on the other hand...
"Honey, please get up. Open your eyes and see!"
He shook his head, grasping tighter to his paper bag. "Shouldn't have allowed you to talk me into this...never should have listened to you."
She sighed, thinking her husband sounded so sickly and confused. Sad thing is he never threw up, loaded up on motion sickness meds weeks in advanced, and he barely felt...
PUNCH
Graham Pererson was a murderer. He killed people. Often.
Under the guise of a little old man he scoured the late evening streets for his victims. He carried a small bag and a walking stick.
He had a nicely worked out system which had, to date, never failed him.
And so tonight, April 1, he locked his door behind him and headed towards the suberbs.
They were starting to head home in groups of two and three from their nights of debauchery. He hated them. All of them.
A young woman seperated from her group and turned a corner....
This dream was better than waking. Like many others-- She was there. She looked different in every dream, talked different, had a different name; but she was the same person every time. She was an aspect of me, who I wish I could be, who I knew I never could be.
Except in the dream. While I was still the awkward, shy man I always was, in my dream I could share dinner with a woman who had all the qualities I wanted. She could talk without feeling nervous. She was ambitious, no regrets of /not/ doing something. And, of...
Lily was far too young for this. She wore a billowy petticoat and a large hat as she chased after Mother. Ever since Mother decided that Frank (Francois) the adventurer was her new love, she darted across Africa and the Middle East like an excitable dog chasing a rawhide.
Lily was sweating under the Egyptian sun in all her layers. She envied the Bedouin girls and their head-covering scarves. Less itchy than this hat, she thought. Late at night, when Mother and Frank kicked her out of the tent, she'd squat on the sand and look at far-off Bedouin tents...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. And it was very hard for her to. What, with her being overweight. To people of this society, fatties are not pretties.
At least, that's what her father has always told her.
But right now. Standing here right now. Before him. He, who can't seem to look away.
She feels like Halle Berry.
In a simple pair of blue jeans, and a T - Shirt, she walked outside to get the mail. She forgotten that her sister was going out with a bunch of her friends. Assuming she wasn't invited on...
Twist and he was dead. Broken neck. Watching the agony in the contorted face I could only stand in my own space of terror. Knowing that no-one would ever believe what happened. Instinct told me to run home, pack a bag, passport, money and take a plane to the other side of the world. I could not move.
Simon's hand touched mine and for the first time since kindergarten, I held hands with another boy. What seemed like hours later we moved and looked at each other, mirrors of incredulity and shock.
John had told us years ago the bizarre...
Twist. Turn. Dip. Sweep. All at once, the winds around the ship changed, shifting from a violent storm to a soft breeze. The black plumage of his Tengu Fan remained stock straight, even with the skilled hand moving it with jarring grace to manipulate the winds around them. They crew had all seen the man at work at least once before, but always it was a sight of awe. Not many on the high seas could willingly sail through a tempest and come out of it completely unscathed.
After the tribulation had passed, and the skies parted above into clear...