Malcolm's coo became a cry. The big hands came, to sweep him up, into the dark, cradled, into the big arms. And his cries, despite himself and the rage that swelled within him, subsided.
The big arms swayed, the soft sounds soothed, and Malcolm rocked, he swum, he spun. His arms too small too tired, his legs useless and swaddled up. He liked the rocking, it eased the ache of his anger. It reminded him of the wheel.
The spinning wheel of endless endless, the wheel of flame, where his candle was relit, where his heart was reforged. From the...
Six minutes. You wouldn't think it a long enough span of time to affect anything. Anyone.
And yet.
It's time enough and more to change your life. My life.
We were given six minutes. The span between one time slot and the next.
Six minutes to explain.
Six minutes to speak.
And I couldn't. There was nothing I could say to erase what I did.
So.
I kissed her.
Again.
And this time she melted into my arms.
Wrapped hers around my neck.
And for six minutes it was perfect.
Bliss.
Until the buzzer rang. And someone rapped on the...
Private Morlane glanced at the watch that he'd taken off and left on the small table by his cot, rubbing his sleep-weary eyes as he noticed what time it was. Fifteen minutes until dawn, or at least until when dawn was slated to be, according to all of the records that he had read over the last few mornings.
The last few mornings had been early ones. They were camped next to a large farm, with a broken-down wooden fence surrounding the grounds, where a large rooster loved to perch at sunrise and crow so loudly that every living thing...
I never realized just how high the flats in this area stood. Concrete giants standing over this urban world which I am unfortunate enough to call my home. Just last week a local boy was beaten up because of drugs, or money, or girls or whatever is the driving force behind the yobs that unfortunately for me call this area their home too.
Berkley Estate. Full of Highrises but empty of hopes, that about sums up this place.
As I continue my daily journey from work to home through the grey streets filled with grey people I am unfortunate enough...
Sweating, her false horn started to slip, inch by inch down her forehead. "Damned glue! They said it would last 3 hours!" She lifted her nose and tried to balance the horn. "I hope no one notices."
She gathered her courage and stepped into the room, nose in the air, eyes darting from face to face. "Do they see? Will they notice?" Blinking greetings at those around her, she forced herself to smile. Better h
It approached. She shuddered, turned, checked the Subway tunnel in both directions. There was no one there, but the feeling of future graves being trodden on refused, for a few steps, to dissipate.
The voice, like evil chalk on a spotless blackboard, came from behind her. "No, don't turn round. Not yet. You're safe."
The effect was fossilising. Blood cooled, crept, froze. A half remembered step faltered to a stand. Immobilised, she saw her assailant's breath of billow from over her bare shoulder.
"I know you. You don't scare easy. All those horror films. I've seen you. You never flinch...
With a sharp, breathy hiss, the seal of the airlock broke, and Simon felt the cool Earth air blow across his face.
Well, technically he didn't feel it, but his suit's sensors recorded data on the air; its composition, pressure, and temperature.
It was the first time a human had set foot on the planet in over two centuries. The Consumption had taken total control over the planet in 2077, rendering it uninhabitable. The survivors had fled to Mars and the Jovian colonies just before the air itself had been sucked away to feed the relentless multiplying of the microscopic...
Mike had been walking for hours. Flamin' car. He knew he shouldn't have bought that old banger from Rob. The heat was belting down; it must have been at least 25 celsius. 'Hey, that's hot in Newcastle', he could hear himself saying defensively to Rob who always took holidays in Tunisia and Morocco.
The tarmac was beginning to soften and the collar on his shirt was chafing. No way he'd make that interview now. His first chance to get up the ladder in years, he'd been picturing telling Rob for ages, and now he'd blown it. Or, rather, the car...
"What's taking you so long, dad?"
I'm eight, and we are on a fishing trip, and I'm having a terrible time. My father is attempting to set up our antique tent and making a great mess of things. He is not the type to keep particularly organized. Perhaps it was he who passed that onto me.
"This goddamn rod is bent all to shit," he grumbles. He always used to curse when he was irritated, which was often. I always knew to steer clear of him in those moments or he would find some arbitrary task for me to do...
"Where did you come from?"
The little devil sat on my hand.
"I'm from your head. I'm here to distract you."
He pried the pencil from my fingers and heaved it above his head.
"You won't be needing this anymore."
He tossed it down, into the trash.
"Hey! I need that!"
I needed to study for my standardized tests tomorrow.
"You don't need that. You need this."
He got up from my hand and patted my closed laptop.
"Why would I need my laptop?"
The little devil danced atop the shut black device.
"What are your friends up to? What's...