"Sam!" the guy shouted. "This is it!"
Sam followed, but he wasn't sure this WAS it. How could it be? They'd been waiting for this for hours, for days even. How could it be?
"Get the nebulizer," he said. "And be quick."
Sam could never remember what the nebulizer was or what it was for. He didn't think it had anything to do with the surrender, but he didn't really know and so didn't like to say.
"Got it," he said, handing a doohicky over to the ambulance driver.
"Thanks, man," he said, not even looking. The guy was intent...
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 looked back thinking about all of the things in that village. i didn't like the thoughts of that, but i have moved on now and i am hoping that this new apartment block will accept me. i walk in the door, it makes a loud creak and i look at the first desk that is there and there is one person sitting at the desk. as i wait on the comfortable lounge chairs i see her juggling three phone calls along with two computers. i just arrived at what could be my new home with a bit of cash...
Cal reckoned he had it all just about figured.
Darlene, the victim, had spent some time with the cult back in '07. In November of that year, she split, taking with her something the cultists valued - valued a whole hell of a lot.
That didn't sit well with the Parler Jamais folks, so the sent a couple of guys over here to do her in. As for the recording, well, it was probably just to intimidate other cult members or something.
It ALMOST fit the evidence perfectly, but there were a few details that kept tugging at the seams....
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...
When I was young I was convinced that if you held onto a bunch of balloons you would go up in the air just like Mary Poppins. Ever since then they scared me. Phobic to tell the truth. So when I saw the girl lying down with the blue and pink balloons I had to scrabble around in my bag for medication and a paper bag. Only trouble is they were missing. Shit.
I was feeling myself get red. Hot. Sweaty. My legs turned to jelly. Trembly. Then suddenly around the corner walks a man holding a massive bunch of...
They were listening. Halloween night was the perfect cover for their activities. They heard our every whisper, laugh, cry. When we are socialising with our tribe, friends we felt comfortable around to dress up, act like a fool or even express normally hidden sides of our personalities. Trick or treat with menace.
Until this year I didn't know they even existed, except in urban legends. When I accidentally found out, my life changed in an instant. Never to feel relaxed, never to be myself in case they would use it to their advantage one day when I'd least suspect.
I...
I don't know if that was a good idea. Who knows what would come of it? Maybe nothing, maybe something. It wasn't like writing that note was a spur of the moment kind of decision. It was something that I'd thought about doing a million times before. Of course, I'd always thought that I would have used very different words and say something entirely different. I hope I was wise, but I can't tell. I feel like I was just a little girl using grown up words. I don't know if that was a good idea...
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...
He wandered a lot. Not usually while he was home, but when the time presented itself and he was in a new location before starting a new job, or before he was scheduled to leave. Staying in one place was too suspicious at times, though some places took his 'look' in strides, gave him attentions, asked him questions. That was no better sometimes. So he made wandering a pastime of sorts.
His focus mainly centered on terrain. Particular landscapes could prove resourceful in the heat of battle if he were to ever return there. Monuments, gardens, parks, fountains. The environment...