Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.

"I must protest!" she shouted, above the din of the room.

The man at the other side looked at her quizically. "Miss Whitely, would you please sit down? You're not allowed to speak out until it's your turn in the witness stand."

"But this man is slandering me! I never did any of those things!"

"Miss, that's how court works. They tell their story, and you tell yours."

"But it's wrong!"

The prosecutor sighed. This was going to be a long...

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"Aim for the torch."

"I'm trying!"

"We're gonna miss it."

"I know! I said I'm trying!"

"Ok, forget the torch. Try to land on, uh, her shoulder or something."

"The wind's too strong."

"How about her feet? The balcony? The plaza? ...The field?"

"This isn't my fault. No matter what happens, this isn't my fault."

"We're going to end up in the ocean, aren't we?"

"Probably. No, wait! I could just... Hmm. Yep. We're gonna land in the ocean."

"I don't like the ocean. It's wet."

"Shut up and deal with it."

"Plus all the cash in my wallet is...

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There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. His hair is dark. He just stands there watching. I call out to him asking his name, but he doesn't reply. He just stares.

A can't take my eyes off of him. I stand there too, staring at him. Our deep eyes meet and a chill flashes down my spine. As I gaze into the windows to his soul, my breathing quickens as does my heart beat. Here we are, two different entities separated only by the distance of a metre or so. I can't describe the deep dread I feel...

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Es ging alles furchtbar schnell. Ein Kreischen, ein plötzlicher Ruck. Irgendwie schrien plötzlich alle durcheinander, ich glaube, ich hab auch geschrien. Aber so ganz sicher bin ich mir nicht. Meine Ohren fühlten sich an, als seien sie in Watte gepackt worden.
Absurder Weise gefiel mir dieses Gefühl und es wurde noch besser. Diese Schwerelosigkeitskammern, die man immer in Astronautenfilmen sieht, wirken bestimmt so ähnlich. Irgendwie fand ich es schade, sowas noch nie ausprobiert zu haben.
Alle verloren den Boden unter den Füßen und die Umgebung begann sich zu drehen. Wieder ein Ruck. Es war zu Ende. Glaube ich zumindest. Ich...

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Yeah yeah. We're here. Uh huh.

Well, we had this idea. Not totally sure it was smart. Yeah. Timothy is looking at it right now. No, no, it's a black flag. Pirates. I know. I know. I told you we weren't sure. How did they react? Not well. They kind of ... panicked, I think you'd say. Jumped over board. Uh huh. I think if we were starting from scratch we'd probably think it through a little more closely. No I know. The problem is they thought were were the pirates. Well... Okay, let's agree to disagree. Yes it was...

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Okay, look. I had this idea that this was going to be a nice relaxing trip.

It was.

And we were going to come out here --


And enjoy ourselves --


And not have to deal with stress. Do you understand?

Yes, of course.

And now, what do you see?

What do you mean?

What do you see here?

I don't know... Trees, blue sky --



Stress. It's stress. Every direction I look is stress.

Okay, look, you need to just take a breath. Remember what they said at the clinic. Deep breaths.

Stop it. I...

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Bombs were the last thing on his mind. It was scotch tape that was presently obsessing him. He had no idea why the image of scotch tape floated there, as it hovering in space, as the explosions and mayhem and chaos reigned around him.

Pierre Leclaire was a soldier in an army of two. Him and his dog Rufus. They had a gun, three boxes of crayons and a wad of chewed up Bubblicious. His mom had always told him he could make the most creative things out of nothing, so the bubblicious had become somewhat of an obsession.


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The tracks screeched as the train hurtled through the curve. "Is this normal?!" she screamed, "Are we going to die?"

"It's looking likely!" he shouted back as he tumbled into the roomette. Crawling on his knees, panic leapt into his eyes. He scanned the floor, sweeping his hands over the carpet, under the seats.

"What are you looking for?" she shouted as she braced herself in the hallway.

"Nothing. It's nothing. You know, at times like these, when disaster looms, we must ask ourselves what motivates us, what grand ideas guide us in our illusory walks towards our certain doom....

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"I'm not stalking you, I swear," she said to him as he stared across the produce section in the grocer.

"Oh? The coffee shop by your office I could understand. The subway too. Maybe we live on the same line. The movie theatre might have been a coincidence. And the cologne section at Macy's could be justified. I'm a little concerned that you'd appear in the same Casino, the same bar and the same strip club, but to each their own. So that you'd even say you're not stalking me, here, in a grocery store, the most obvious place for...

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He knocked the three knocks. The two rap-raps. He whistled like a wren. Then he knocked twice again. The flight attendant replied, "Captain. Pick up the phone. I'm not playing your games."

"Oh come on. Just reply with the secret knock. It's easy."

"What is it you want?"

"To go to the restroom."

"Ok. Punch in your code and I'll punch in mine, and we'll get you to the lavatory and back."

She punches her code, her hand on the handle. She waits. "Captain?" She hears three knocks. Two rap-raps. A whistle like a wren.

"Captain. I'm a grown woman....

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