The waves crashed on the rocks at the point, Harold heard them, but only in that way you hear things just out of the way, like neighbours fighting or the alarm clock on bad mornings. He shook the ice in his glass and chewed the inside of his cheek. The bartender was giving him the side-eye as he dried the glasses.
A thick finger freed itself from Harold's fist, pointing up, waved towards his empty glass. The bartender, slapped the towel over his shoulder and fixed another gin and tonic.
Harold nodded and brought the drink to his lips.
He...
Do you want to hear about it, she asked. The doors slid shut.
I couldn't say.
There was the first ding.
No, I said. Not really.
I want to tell you about it, she said.
The second ding.
She stood next to the panel. I leaned back against the opposite corner. No others at this time of night, in this elevator, in this place.
Fine, I said. Tell me about it.
It was warm. We in our winter coats, too warm, as far as we could get away from each other in our opposite corners of the elevator.
The third...
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 held the cat tightly in her arms, relishing in the warmth. It was comforting, strangely comforting, how much she could rely on her cat. His name was Alfie and he was her life. However sad it may have seemed that cat was her life.
She carried the cat out into the snow, watching as his eyes looked curiously around, desperately trying to take in all the new sights.
He'd never seen snow before. That's why she'd brought him out in the first place. She hated snow herself. Hated the way it melted the moment it touched her. Hated the...
When I was younger, I remember all of the pressure that was placed on me to be good enough.
The training that I had to endure, to get where I am today. At the top of my game.
But I keep asking myself? "Is this really what I want? Am I'm living for myself, or for others?"
I turned the medallion in my hands as I thought of how all I wanted to do was to make them proud! My parents, and my coach.
But now that's in the past.
Now I realize that what I want, and what they...
Well, I said I wanted it to be a quiet vacation. You can't get much quieter than this. Even if this atmosphere were thick enough to conduct sound waves, I'm the only sentient being on Mars.
Yep, nice and quiet. Finally.
What have I got, eight more? Ten, maybe?
No, eleven. Eleven protein-carbo bars and four liters of water. The fusion pack is good for another twenty-eight years, so if the waste recycle unit continues at ninety-eight percent efficiency...
That means I can keep re-eating my own feces and re-drinking my own urine for another twelve years.
I guess I...
"The McDonald's Arch Deluxe. Thee layers of disgusting terror."
The ad flashed by on the R31 bus, and I quickly completed it in my mind. Damn those people. As a vegan, I feel these ad execs should not be allowed to penetrate my air space.
Before I was strong-willed, such an attempt used to stand a chance at luring me from my modest, then-vegetarian diet.
Now, it had the chance of an earthworm in a swimming pool.
At loss of time and options, and very hungry for no apparent reason, however, I stepped into a nearby Burger King and ordered...
I watched as the creature - the whatever it was - floated on the soft breeze towards me. It had wings, but it didn't seem to want to use them, gliding through the air instead. As it got closer, my nerves started to act up.
I hate insects.
I hate anything with more than four legs and I'm not that keen on anything with more than two, if I'm honest about things.
I felt cheated as I watched it. The first sunny day in weeks, and I had a chance to enjoy it, sitting in the garden with a book...
The pistol was cocked... Ready to go. I didn't know what to do...
Should I shoot? Should I run? It was a question which required some thought. But I had no time to think.
I needed to think back to my college philosophy classes. Fight or flight. Talk or smoke.
So... I reached into my pocket slowly, all the while showing my pistol...
"Just let me show you my credentials"
hen I dropped my pistol. Then I ran.
I held it at arms length. I wondered who had stuck that dead rat in my desk anyhow. i carried it out to the garbage bin and flipped up the lid. Ugh. The stench was overpowering. I dropped the little carcas in and slammed down the lid. After thoroughly sanitizing my hands, i opened my spiral notebook and jotted down a list of suspects. Number one: Brayden Leston. He was known for all sorts of less than hilarious pranks, like the time he dropped an entire 2 liter bottle of Pepsi into Mr. Zapinski's Mentos drawer. The resulting explosion caused...