It was ridiculous that at my age I could not do anything without my parents getting involved. They were overprotective, talking me out any everything, listing all the possible negatives so I ended up believing them.

At fifty three I was single, living off their generosity, sharing hobbies, going on holiday with them, waking, eating and sleeping the same times as them.

Never had any friends, boyfriends, jobs, excitement of my own.

The police psychologist didn't think it that unusual that I ended up on a criminal career path, he told the court it was inevitable given the strange upbringing....

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The water was clear. The Captain held the glass aloft for the crew to see. So far, so good. The riotous lot seemed somewhat calmed by the sight. It was purely a temporary respite.

"Aye, for sure it *looks* clean," said one of the braver sailors. "But I can't merely believe that won't poison us all just like what was in the barrels before. And, beggin' your pardon, we can't be drinking no seawater, no matter what fancy magic you do to it."

The Captain sighed. The two sailors lost to the poisoned water had caused an uprising, it seemed...

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It seemed so simple. Walk in, say hi, grab a cappucino and go. I didn't realize just how complicated it would actually be. it started like any other run to Starbucks. I walked in the door and was greeted by the wired girl sitting by the door, in the exact same spot where i had seen her last. She told me that this was her 34th latte that morning. As usual, i edged away, as she continued to chatter. I walked up to the till and was also greeted by Allie, the clerk i saw every time i came by....

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She opened the envelope and screamed. She could not believe him, she simply could not believe that he was still persuing her after all this time. Even though they were living miles and miles apart, he still insisted on writing her. He was the reason that she had left their small town for a big life in Paris. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Why did he always need to have her? She couldn't understand him. But, as much as she hated to admit it, she was still in love with him. The timeless quote, "Absence makes the heart...

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There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. I can't see him, but I know he is there, and yes, it is a he. The collar of his shirt flaps soft with the night air, and the breadth of his hands dwarfs the whole space. I don't move, but it's not because I'm scared. I just don't want him to know that I know. That he's there. I don't want him to leave. His keeping watch while I sleep, a sort of volunteer sentryman, comforts me like my father's stroking my hair. Maybe it was my father who dispatched...

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Hero at Midnight

No one could remember who among them gave him the name Rooster; probably someone long gone by this point. A seventy percent casualty rate will leave one gaping hole in the communal memory. Everyone could remember why: yodeling and ukelele music in the pre-dawn hours was inexcusable by any measure. It had started after the battle for Hill 487. Most of Rooster's squad had been blown into pieces too small to put back together. Hence the coping mechanism. However, after two weeks of this crap, enough was enough, and Private Morlane drew the short stick: shut him...

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Her pink shoes dragged on the wet pavement. To him, it felt like the sound of her heels thundered down the street, causing people to stop what they were doing and looking out their windows at him. He paused for a second and looked around. All the windows were empty, most were dark, the slight sound of shoes dragging on concrete not loud enough to be heard over the sond of rain and traffic. He got to the end of the alley and stopped again, shifting his load over to the other side so that he could reach his pocket...

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The hero wheeled himself up the burning ramp with his strong, metallic arms, handled the squealing babe with remarkable tenderness, and put the small bundle in his lap before wheeling himself back through the rapidly collapsing corridor. The villain had hoped to dash the President's resolve with the death of her first born, but he hadn't counted on the 'Challenged Challenger' appearing to save the day.

His goal hadn't been so lofty. He'd only come to get his parking pass renewed, but stayed to save a life.

All in a day's work for the city's noblest hero.

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to My son before I die

Take me from this bed, your knuckled curtained hands the fear the dread, for I have none of that. Throw away the flowers, for I am not yet dead.

Take me out to lie again on the Earth
if there is any left
and let me paw the Earth like the Animal I am
here I lie, and She is warming to me.

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The lamp wouldn't turn on. He clicked it once, and twice. He tapped the bare bulb, once he'd removed the lampshade. He followed the cord down to the wall and unplugged and plugged it back in.

He dug in the drawer in the kitchen and found a new bulb but it didn't fit, so he dug some more and found another, smaller bulb and it did fit but still the damned lamp wouldn't turn on.

At the power box, he switched the breaker, killing the power for a moment to the living room, setting the VCR back to high noon....

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