The pistol was cocked, ready to go. There were angels on my lawn. Dirty, foul things. They pecked at my roses, tearing at them with their claws. They left shit and mud stained feathers all over the lawn. They peed on everything.
I'd tried that new Angel B Gone spray but it only made them frisky. A few started having sex on my lawn. My Jem had to get out the garden hose to chase them away.
I'd tried to trap them. I bought great big cages from the hardware store and pieces of cheese to lure them in. They...
The plough boy Tom burned a different colour; a mix of jealous green and blue regret. Typical of a young man, losing his purse in an unfair wager.
The witch could see two snakes writhing in the boy's head. Still, to his credit, he kept his tongue when ill placed words would have caused much harm to all present. If he could weather the coming storm, he would have grown into his boots, as Meg's mother would have said.
Each person crushed into Meg's cot had their own story to tell. Maybe his was hasty revenge and slower repentance. Either...
I retire to a grotto chiseled in a gnarled knot of stone on the continent's edge. The continent is irrelevant. And the stone and grotto, for that matter. Because when the ocean rises, no one moans but me. And the universe is nothing if not a bell for suffering. Ding dong, ding dong.
It was really quite simple. I called him in to prepare my nightly tea time, he walked into the room and I shot him between the eyes.
Was really his fault. He couldn't be counted on to keep quiet about my nature. Still, it was fun while it lasted. I called in the maids and they promptly set upon his body for removal. It was something like a week and I had gone through almost a dozen staff. They buzzed like flies when I needed them, but just could not keep to themselves when it came to keeping secrets.
So...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
It wasn't a scream of happiness. It wasn't a scream of surprise. It wasn't the hoped for money that grandma had promised. It wasn't the test results; they wouldn't come for another week.
It was a finger. In the bottom of the envelope. Dry of blood. Shrivelled and pale and a stub, a nub.
She dropped the envelope and scuttled back into a corner, her fist jammed into her jaw. Her eyes wide, she stared at the finger, as it lolled out of the envelope.
She could smell smoke. It had to be a...
Freewrite had been studying the whole damned week.
It was a chaotic week, filled with dark-roast coffee and cotton sweaters, self induced wakefulness like a ritual. Now, it was Thursday, and Freewrite still hadn't completed his research. He sat groggily, frustrated, hunched over a dark cup of coffee with a pen in his hand and a book to his left.
On the other side of the desks were threescore discarded books that had offered little relevance to him. Friday was tomorrow. Freewrite looked at his wristwatch. It was already 9:58 pm.
Freewrite realized that his thesis was due the morning...
The gate closed behind them. It was the the beginning of their new life in that house in New Orleans; the wrought iron gate with the heart on it that shielded the home from the street. The climbing foliage on the side door and back of the house was called 'character.' The gravel driveway, the bright white shutters, and the citrus tree were just a few of the home's attractions.
"Nola" nightlife, the beautiful summers in Louisiana, and their love for all things unique were instant attractions. The couple first saw this house on vacation, and it wasn't for sale....
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. He looks like a nice enough fellow, but the last time I saw a stranger in that general location, I was dragged through the back of my closet into a magical world where the whimsy was spread so thick, I developed psychic diabetes.
This time, my uninvited guest seems to be wearing one of those hard hats with the drink holders on either side, and the tube that mixes the two. It has a logo on it, but I can't quite make it out. The room is too dark.
The figure...
Gene quickened his pace. All the way from the pub, he had felt the presence of someone following him. He daren't look around, you read all sorts of things in the newspapers, God only knew who, or what, was behind him.
He was nearly home now anyway, another five minutes and he would be safely tucked up behind closed doors. Away from harm. He never usually walked home alone, but he was feeling a bit under the weather today, so had set off before the others. Truth be told, they were annoying him a bit with their curmudgeonly ways.
The...
It's 2.35 pm now and Mary is sitting in the room. She is bored and restless. She has been restless for most days. She misses the one person who has changed her life drastically.
Mary was always the girl who is eager, fun loving and very much in love with life. She loves the wind in her hair, the pleasant birds chirping in the window. She is easy to be around with.
But this time of day, she was restless.It is not about the heat of the sunny day or the humidity of the weather. She misses someone. She is...