It landed in 1966. The voyages of the Starship Enterprise would enthrall fans of Star Trek for three years before finally being cancelled. Years later, a movie franchise would be born, as well as subsequent televisions hows. There were comics, novels, and Star Trek fan conventions. The words "Trekkie" and "Trekker" entered the lexicon.
It landed in 1966. He landed in 1966. The Great Bird of the Galaxy, Gene Roddenberry, landed his series on our television screens for the first time and the world would never be the same again.
Tears formed in Hazel Grace's eyes as Augustus lifted her chin and asked, "Okay?"
Hazel managed to get a sound out of her quivering voice and shakily said, "Okay."
(Prompt is 'the conversation lasted two words')
I walked into the restroom, and relieved myself while reading PEOPLE'S MAGAZINE. I got the latest updates on Bradalina, or Angpitt or whatever, while I was taking a dump. As I walked out my mouth gaped as I found out that Jenifer Aniston and Tom Cruise were hooking up.
TEXT:
OMG! JA and TC ARE TOTALLY HOOKING UP LOL!
L8R!
I called my BFF Malissa and told her about the latest update. After we talked for a while, she sighed and told me she really didn't care. I told her to start caring about things that really mattered in life,...
She normally didn't speak up. She was the quiet, reserved type. The type who'd sit at the bar with her friends, and just silently listen to the conversation around her.
It was Julie that got her frustrated, though. Not just frustrated, angry. Julie was talking about the camp she'd sent her son to, one of those camps that promotes a more 'traditional' lifestyle. They advertised it as being 'moral' and 'healthy'.
The young woman had no children of her own, she was far too young for that. She worried that she was wrong for telling somebody else to raise their...
She could listen all day. The raspy, melancholy vocals of the demo tape was not without flaws, but in this moment, perfectly delectable. Her own voice was breathtaking to her; after all, how often did she experience a conversational sing-a-long with herself? The sound was a breath of fresh air, nothing she inhale here, in the muggy city, at her perfunctory job, or with her otherwise dull life.
This was the sound of butterflies.
Centuries collide and we find Marie Antoinette, victim of the Today Show questions. Cue Katie Couric:
"Marie, why couldn't you give your husband a son?"
"Well, Katie, "
"No Marie! Why?"
"Katie,"
"MARIE."
"Madame Couric"
"WHO is Madame Couric? Call me Katie, now answer the question, better question, though, explain your infamous 'let them eat cake' phrase."
"..cake, hmm, cake...let them eat cake, boy these studio lights are dreadfully hot, my white face is dripping and this foot-tall wig is absolutely scorching my head."
"MS. ANTOINETTE!"
"hmm? Oh yes, let them eat cake..well"
"Get her out of here Matt. Next...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. I was going to show him. I was angry, no, furious. He cut me off! In this city, that's somehting you just don't do. In my neck of the woods, driving like that could mean you migght be at the end of the line. I thought anout it, I mean really thought about it. Did I want to do this? My life would change forever, and so would other people impacted from the results of my actions. I decided to uncock my pistol, put it back in the glove box, and keep driving....
The wall is the place most people choose on their own. You come for a day or a week and it's never to see the sights. The sights are immaterial, and not unexpected. Temples, tea houses with dripping peremera trees hanging soot and sleek flowers over damp pollenated tables. Once thriving book shops and market warrens closed down by the proper authorities. Cab drivers who direct you round about ways and never give useful directions. None of these things are unusual, or particularly memorable. It is instead, the wall itself, that calls to you. The wall is the reason you...
He was a walking arsenal with knives strapped to his armor at forearms, biceps, chest and back. Two smaller throwing knives protruded from his boots. Across his back, a large Claymore peeked over his head.
He was a walking arsenal. Deadly. Powerful. Angry at the world. His deep black eyes burned with flame. His lantern jaw was clenched with determination. He eld himself erect, his arms resting easily at his sides. Suddenly, the call came and he swept into the undead hordes ahead of him, knives leading the way. His word came out at the last instant, slashing through the...
A breeze is a current of air
A portent that hasn't a care
For the cold that it causes
...
..
Please forgive me these pauses
The author was killed by a bear