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.
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.
When I woke up this morning, I knew it was going to be a good day. No groggy moans coming from my body as usual. A little tense in the hips, but nothing a good stretch won't fix. I got up with my girlfriend and made for the breakfast cereal. I worked on my cover letter for a new job application and my girlfriend made the breakfast. "I sure hope this works," I say as I hit send. The job is a definite, but I got into some trouble with the law a while back and my newly acquired bad...
I flip through my old books, looking for more of my old letters, so far I've found one to Santa, in a book about dinosaurs that I've had since kindergarten.
I find an old copy of The Bible, the same one I used to read for my Sunday school work when I was younger and still thought that people were good and that if you were good people would be too.
I find a letter to my wife in our favorite book of poetry and I wonder why she left, she never said goodbye, or that anything was wrong.
And...
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,...
She cradled the faun's head as it mewed pathetically, legs shaking as it attempted to get up.
"Shh," she cooed to it softly, running her hands down it's glossy coat.
"What is it?" A small voice spoke behind her, making her turn and open up her arms to the small girl stood nervously at the edge of the clearing.
"That's a baby deer." Another voice answered, the familiar form of her husband appearing behind the small child. "It's the first one I've seen for around forty years."
"Are they from before the war?" The small girl asked as she approached...
No one really knew that Danny possess a magical power. Ever since he was a kid, he discovered that he has capabilities beyond any kids in the block. No one did ever knew, let alone his parents or his sister, Therese, that he can read minds.
Before anyone could think of something, he already reads what is in their head. He can feel all the emotions, the hurt, the anger and frustration of everyone. It is like an incessant shadow that even devoid of light, it still follows him around.
No one really knew about Danny's powers. He is wise...
The sound reverberated through the streets. I dropped to my knees, the metal in the synth-leg clanging against the metal walkway. The bullet had entered between the third and fourth rib, penetrating the layer of inlaid titanium armour. I knew I didn't have much time left. I could feel the oil from my implants and my blood mixing and pouring down my chest.
My executioner stood before me, laser sight trained on my skull, ready to put me away for good. I had to act fast.
"Now, now, sweetie, don't do anything rash." He flashed a smile, showing off his...
Oh look at the house. It has snow on the roof. Santa will be mad. How is he supposed to get down the chimney if there's snow on the roof. Wait a minute. There's no chimney. Guess Santa will have to break into the house instead.
But gol, I think we should make sure all the roofs are clear of snow for Christmas Eve. I mean, them reindeer can't enjoy snow all that much.
So anyway, Santa Claus has a disease that makes his hair fall out. He kind of looks like this: O But he has a head on...
It was becoming night. Quickly, stealthly, Navy SEALS approached a haunting compound. Sand-surrounded, barbed-wire covered; its contents unkown, its inhabitants, suspected. This was do-or-die time. The code "Geronimo" was on everyone's minds. This desert, this foreign country, was their home for the past year. Now they had Presidential orders, "capture or kill," "wanted, dead or alive." It wasn't just read off of an old saloon poster. This was it. With intelligence officials watching, and waiting, the world went about its business, until five hours later, when everyone got word of the actions that occurred inside that haunted-looking building. A terror-leader...