Dave turned the dial up to 11. Maximum. There were only a few seconds left until the next jump, he needed to be prepared. He rembered back to basic training, all you needed was to get your stance right, place your hands either side and...
The clackson pearced the air. This was it. The heavy metallic doors slowly collapsed revealing the dark bluish purplish redish swirling void that streamed past the opening.
Dave lept.
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...
Mrs. Johnson put the Cheez Whiz in her shopping cart. There was nothing in the cart but her jar of Cheez Whiz. It sat on top of the hashmark design of the shopping cart, basking in its cheezy glory. The lid was securely fastened to the jar of Cheez Whiz but later, when someone removed it, it would pop and the jar would yield its treasure of orange cheesy paste.
Mrs. Johnson pushed her cart of Cheez Whiz through the store. People smiled at her because she was well known in her town. "I see you're buying some Cheez Whiz,"...
The rain came pouring down upon me. And as I lay there, my cheap gown leeching its red dye into the gutter, I imagined my own blood joining it and just letting myself go away. I thought about it for a long, long time. The rain intensified. The thunder seemed to be synched to my thoughts and my sudden spasms of regret and anguish and misery.
It came down to making a choice. I would either stand up and walk on, or I wouldn't. I thought about how long it would take for me to perish in this place, knowing...
One day a man called Gilbert played with small electrical appliances, he named this activity "duckery". He played so much his fingers became paranoid. This paranoia soon ran from his fingertips straight to his heart. After a couple of weeks he noticed a strange, yet, comfortable feeling in his upper right shoulder, he called this "proper". Proper became so "happening" that he made up words like "happening" and "bloodthirsty". But things started to take it's toll on poor old Gilbert. He lost his confidence in playing with small electrical appliances. He became depressed and fell in a coma, he named...
Are you sure about this? I'm not sure if I am the only person skeptical of this? It seems that the world is changing, and people are letting others think for them. Everyday, a large amount of laws are approved. The government is a joke. Although they continue to maintain that they have a democracy, this is just not true. Voting corrupt to its core. Candidates supported by the government always win, because citizens are bribed to vote for the puppet candidate. Those who dare to challenge the government are asking for their deaths. Everyone knows about the CIA, but...
The day after tomorrow, this will all be over. He stood, still in body if not in mind. The wind that brushed past him seemed to pause, as if considering this new obstacle, before gathering the leaves that hunched against the curb and whirling them off in a wild reel. With his head tilted as if listening to a far-off conversation, he tried to pin down the source of his unease. Raising a hand in the dim twilight, he ignored the fine tremor that shook it and re-settled the case strapped across his back. Nerves, then, and nothing to do...
I woke around dawn, unable to sleep any longer. I wrapped the plaid blanket around my shoulders and head and climbed out the window. I walked through the small amout of dawn light filtering through the Brazilian pepper tree's enormous branches. I looked through the small peephole i had left for myself and immediately regretted ever climbing out that window. The reason: a 2 ton bear hurtling towards me. I felt unable to breathe. I tried to run, but my feet were rooted to the spot. as the bear drew closer, i said but one word: HELP!
My name is Joseph Buxton and I am a terrible person.
The audience stared open-mouthed at me as the blood welled around the wound and covered my hands which were clasped over. I wouldn't normally do this, try to save a man's life, but I felt I owed him something. As he bled out and stained the cuffs of my shirt, the useless audience just stared on unmoved.
I felt his heart slow to a stop and watched the life drain from his eyes. He was still now, it was over.
I rolled up my sleeves and flagged down a...
The present is moving too fast for the future, and I am deathly afraid of not feeling this world. But it is not time that is our enemy, but our minds that hold it. Oh to be the turritopsis nutricula, the everlasting jellyfish, invading our planet as we speak. Ever fecund, ever flashing, forward and backwards, too beautiful for time.