The Moon would never be the same again. Not after the Settlers came. See, we had claimed the Moon. Put our USA flag on it with our pretentious little stars. We thought that we'd always be revered as 'the people who claimed the Moon'. But that was before the Settlers came. They came like a swarm, hundreds upon hundreds of spacecraft. They had their big laser guns, and they trooped all over the Moon. And found nothing. No one lived on the Moon. But we were watching. Researchers looked on in wonder as the Settlers claimed the Moon. They set...
story by Monsterbat, typed by mom:
"Sit up, please."
She sat up, her hair gleaming, her eyes glistening. She'd gotten these for free since she had gotten the deal. Show one picture of yourself in the magazine, get one physical therapy session free. She said, "You aren't very qualified at this; are you?"
Another arm got wrenched off. "Oops, sorry."
"You know what, that's it. Even if I'm a zombie, I have some rights. And if I hadn't eaten the court, I'd take you to one." Blood started dripping from her lips.
"Why don't you make a zombie court," he...
A Time to grow
And a Time to grow old
A Time to learn
And a Time to teach
A Time to receive
And a Time to give
A Time to look forward
And a Time to look back
A Time to face a new day
And a time to lay down your burdens and rest
As that new day shines on the newer life ready to meet it.
As the sun sets on one life,
It rises on another
And all is right with the world.
Nothing is more terrifyingly beautiful than the intensity of a woman's Stare.
Not a gaze or a glace, but a Stare. One that lasts longer than a couple
seconds but no longer than a minute. The kind that cuts its way through
you, making you feel more- and at the same time, less- secure in your
strength as a man.
Fault. It is so common a word. Used by so many to allay the suspicion that they are truly the ones responsible. And who am I? I am no different.
My leg moved as if in a dream, gliding through time and space like it was made of water, no jelly, no gravity. It moved, ever so slowly towards a destination that I couldn't help but be brought to. Call it fate, call it fault call it whatever you will but in the end that is where I ended up. One foot in the street and another on the sidewalk....
He didn't even pack. He just picked up a satchel and left. He knew it'd been over for a while, but last night was when he was finally able to summon the courage to do it.
When people heard what he'd done, they'd offer their condolences. But he didn't see it as a sad thing. He saw it as a new beginning, as new horizons.
It was late, one winter night. I was not accustomed to being awake at this hour. My car didn't handle the cold well, and neither did I. The AC had broken two hours into this odyssey. The frost crept in. I drove on.
My satnav, my electronic guide, my only companion on that awful night, took me down the country roads. I was not familiar with them. They were not familiar with me. I was not welcomed. They twisted and turned, disorienting me. I slowed down, taking a turn onto a particularly ice-covered road. My headlights flooded the path with...
The only sound that broke the stillness was the sound of the horses' hooves as they struck the ground. Garth took off his hat and waved it in front of his face.
"How can you see like that?" asked Becky, motioning to the endlessly flat landscape before them. Sand reflected the unending glare of the sun.
"I read somewhere that you lose more body heat through your head than anywhere else," said Garth, fanning himself with the straw monstrosity.
"So you're choosing to be cool over being able to see?" Becky shielded her own eyes from the light.
"Buck here...
She didn't look at him. She couldn't. If she even thought of him she could feel the tears welling upp and her throught constrict. How could he be so cold, so uncaring. She took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of her self. Feel nothing she intoned, feel empty. The hardest part was getting into bed at night. Laying down next to him and pretending that he wasn't there. He talked to her about nothing and she responded as evenly as she could manage, still without looking at him. SHe could feel his frustration, hurt and anger...
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...