Silence. Stillness. That's all I wanted. The screaming, the yelling, dishes breaking, I had to get away from it all.

This was supposed to be a family vacation, we were supposed to take time away from the every day to get to know each other better, to 'talk about our problems'. Thanks, Dr. Freud, but I don't think that's going to solve any of our problems. This little cottage overlooking the lake isn't going to make us understand and love one another.

Nobody notices when I walk away - they're too busy arguing. I've always been the quiet one, they...

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In hindsight, the solution was obvious. I had gone through all the facts, interrogated every suspect, and analyzed all possible theories and evidence. I had them all assembled in the den of the immense estate. Lady Distala was a nervous wreck, nibbling her lovely filed nails and shivering slightly, though the room was warm. "I am aware that all of you know that a crime has been committed in this very home, a mere few hours past. Mr. Edward Leston was found murdered in the back garden at around two o'clock. I have asked all my questions of you, and...

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Jane was a beautiful young woman. Her blonde hair was the envy of everyone in the land. No one else had hair like that. Many said it was the color of straw. Now her father, he was also a nice man. Very beloved by everyone and the leader of this village. He, however was dying. Jane was his only child and not ready to take on the duties that would be given to her if he died. She had been walking through the meadow one day when it struck her. She could get the elixer of Eternal Life and give...

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Millions. Millions of stars in the sky, millions of dollars in some People's bank accounts. Millions of souls walking the earth. But I saw him from across the room,and I knew, from the millions, that he was for me and I was for him, and all of the millions of things in life would come to us in time.

He hadn't changed. His hair was still curly and brown. His eyes were still laughing and grey. His dimples were still deep enough to lose change in. I wondered, would he see me? Would he remember? If he did remember, would...

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As I gazed across the lake at the empty gazebo, I realized I wanted to be there. To stand in the center, surrounded by it's beauty, it's superiority. I felt a strange pull, like I belonged there. "Come to me..." I paused, Morgan was calling me, it was time to join the rest of the class, but the gazebo... I wondered what was over there, and why it wanted me, just an American schoolgirl come to visit. Suddenly, I realized that the snake on roof was moving. "Come to me". I couldn't tell if the voice was in my head...

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A girl with caramel eyes. That's all I know about her. She's a girl with caramel eyes. I wonder, vaguely, what shade of caramel: I murdered someone in a sweets factory once. There were so many different shades of caramel. Brown, dripping, honey sticky and sweet. Caramel is a wide field. I hope there is time to paly with her before she dies. That's the best part, playing with them. I want to watch her eyes widen as she watches me trace a knife around her throat. Maybe, if she's not a fat lump, I'll even kiss her. Not soft,...

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They were listening. Halloween night was the perfect cover for their activities. They heard our every whisper, laugh, cry. When we are socialising with our tribe, friends we felt comfortable around to dress up, act like a fool or even express normally hidden sides of our personalities. Trick or treat with menace.

Until this year I didn't know they even existed, except in urban legends. When I accidentally found out, my life changed in an instant. Never to feel relaxed, never to be myself in case they would use it to their advantage one day when I'd least suspect.

I...

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The Bronx Zoo in my mind was empty. Maybe the gazelles were milling around Yankee Stadium, waiting for Catfish Hunter. The green grass of memory, my synapses folding in the sweeping July breeze, beheld the sweet roots of my birthday candles, climbing the kitchen air like lithesome monkeys, nimble as the imagination.

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But I call it "swing theory." It's sort of an uneducated, improvised explanation of how everything clicks. How one digs the atom. Why one gets so coo-coo for photons. What hip event is on the horizon.

It's crazy, baby. Quantum bums.

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Bombs were the last thing on his mind. Being late for work was the first. Now he found himself standing ankle deep in snow waiting for dogs to check the building. Bathrobes are not the most winter appropriate clothing. How long could it take to search 16 stories?
This would be the 7th time he was late this month. Waiting tables is not the most demanding way to make a living but you do have to be present to pull it off.
Ok, there was definitely snow melting into his sneaker. No time for socks.
He had keys, he could...

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