The dangers of air surfing had yet to be explored. Jenna had never been shy when it came to taking risks, yet now she found herself in the embarrassing position, almost literally, of talking out her ass.
"Can you help me down, please?"
"What happened to 'I'll be a living legend?'" quipped her boyfriend, Bob. "I mean, I've got to say I'm enjoying the view."
Dangling, upside down, as the tide came in, did little to improve Jenna's temper. "Just pull me down; will you?"
"Just as soon as I finish filming. My followers on YouTube are gonna LOVE this!"...
There was pandemonium at the track. Not the racetrack, not the dog track, not even at the running stadium. Nope. It was down on the railroad tracks.
The train driver had spotted a dog on the track and, being an animal lover - a lover of animals, that is, he applied the brakes a bit too sharply. This resulted in the slight derailment of the engine and most of the carriages.
People were quick to disembark and it appeared that there had been no fatalities and only one or two casualties. People wandered around aimlessly searching for the dog that...
They gathered in the woods with pounding hearts. Each of them a liar. Some worried about it , others took it in their stride. The camp fire burned and they cooked stolen beans. Cigarettes were passed around and consumed with guilty pleasure.
CRACK! The sound of a breaking twig. The law? They all darted into the trees. Stomachs flipping and hearts pounding they watched as a figure edged towards the fire.
'Hey guys' came a familiar voice 'look what I got'. She held up a bottle of sherry. 'Woot' The rest of the gang raced to share the booty.
How...
My fiance loves potatoes. She loves potatoes, like, more than a friend. But only if they're in french fry form. She's actually a french fry sniper. If I order food accompanied by fries, it's a guarantee that throughout the course of our meal, she will surreptitiously steal fries one by one until my stash of salty goodness has been completely plundered.
I have no defense for her fry-stealing ways. She's an addict. There's no other way to describe it. I want to stage an intervention and have our friends and family sit her down and confront her about this. I...
It never worked on Sundays. Not sure why. It was plugged in and the Hydro folks never disconnected us on Sundays. We could use the can opener Sundays. The microwave too. But the TV. Well, it would just sit there in the corner, gathering dust. We'd twist the knob but dang it all, screen stayed dark.
"Gol!" says Paw, who's about the biggest football fan in these parts. "I bought that TV just to watch my games and now it won't work."
"You can go down to Duncan's Bar," I suggested. "He's got all the games on the big TV."...
She leaned over the side of the ship, hair streaming in the cold, northerly wind. They'd been at sea for six days now, with three still ahead before they made land at Isenguard.
The heist couldn't have gone more smoothly. The Jaguar Pearls were stowed safely back in her cabin, the security tapes had been wiped and Mark had obliterated every trace of their DNA from the scene.
Mark. Where was he?
She turned to lean against the rail, squinting at the recreation deck in the dazzling, tropical sunlight. He was probably up there right now, all toned and bronzed...
Until now, she’d never thought of herself as pretty. Beautiful, yes. Stunning, definitely. An angel fallen to earth, she’d occasionally even heard that one. But ‘pretty’? Pretty was little girl sweet and candy floss innocence. It was not her because it was not enough. Pretty just didn’t cut it.
She stared at herself in the mirror. She’d been doing the same thing for an hour now, barely moving, hardly breathing, not wanting a hair to fall out of place. Pretty was an insult. She couldn’t bear to hear it again, so she was going to make sure she didn’t. That...
It should have been romantic, this sunset beach stroll. His back was to her as he stood, ankle-deep in the surf. Beyond him the pelicans flew low over the water as the sun set. But he collected shells along the beach like they were nuggets of gold. She had watched him study the circles of leftover life all day, the top of his head getting sunburned at noon.
She wore a wide-brimmed hat, even now, even as the sun slipped beyond the horizon. The hat was as practical now as the diaphragm she had tucked away in her suitcase, still...
The building was out of place and yet appropriate at the same time. Sarah was the only one who seemed to notice it either way. An old pagaoda-like structure in the middle of the town. Other people were nearby, but if they saw it, they didn't act like it.
After snapping a few photos with her smart phone, she approached one of the entrances. (At least she assumed it was an entrance.) She knocked on the door several times. There was no answer, but it swung open for her nonetheless. She looked around at the park, and the people in...
Gradually she made her way to the edge of the shore, looked out to sea and watched the waves as they soared and fell and smashed together in front of her. It was peaceful, despite the noise. She breathed in, grabbing as much salty air as she could each time, then let it go in a long, contented stream.
When she turned, she noticed she was no longer alone. A man had appeared, walking his dog, a black Labrador, beach. She waved, but the man ignored her. Her mood fell slightly. Rude, she thought, and there was never any need...