It was a simple case of mistaken identity. That and trusting the good uniform while having no trust at all in the bad. Both of them are dangerous. But for Paul on this cloudy spring day it was a life changer.

"All I did was pick up an orange. What's wrong about that?" Paul asked the officer.

"Normally nothing. But this man here says he's seen you stealing fruit every day this week."

"That's crazy! I'm on work detail! Do you know how hard I had to work just to get this small amount of freedom? And now I'm getting...

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I shivered. The moor was cold and damp on this February morning. The fog was thick and clung to my hair, my face, my clothes. I wiped my dewy glasses and stretched my aching limbs. I'd been hiding behind this tree for far too long.

I heard a crack.

I eased myself up, cursing my poor old back all the while, and raised my weapon of choice. I lined up my 'scope, taking a deep breath and smiling with satisfaction as the proud head came into focus.

Old Braveheart I called him. I knew it was a cliche but since...

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Ridiculous.
How much love a heart can hold.
Amazing.
To watch your life unfold.
Uncanny.
How your presence fills the sky.
Unbelievable.
How much is spoken in your sigh

How on earth did you come to me?
Maybe Earth had nothing to do with it.
But a conspiracy of stars
Fuelled by an awe inspiring universe.

My miracle.

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Nostalgia. Oh, how I love the feeling.

Staring across the dim room at my parent's house is where it began. Noticing the wooden draws that I painted a warm orange in primary school strengthened it. Opening the bottom-left draw, revealing my well-loved Nintendo, Nokia, and iPod is where it ended.

Nostalgia. Oh, how I miss the feeling.

I ran my rough fingers across the chipped edges of my iPod, drumming my fingers across it's back as I remembered the Beyonce songs that would blast through my little ears every night, while singing, or rather, screaming, the lyrics to 'Halo'.

Nostalgia....

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This dream was better than waking.

The fact that I *knew* I was dreaming kinda freaked me out. Inception was just a movie right? Right? Leo? Talk to me man.

Leo ignored me. So did the really tall blonde in a small bikini, slowly, slowly rubbing suntan lotion on her legs.

Yup. Definitely a dream. Even the ignoring was standard issue me dream.

I looked around me. I was on a beach, somewhere, Leo beside me sketching the girl with the lotion. Up the beach, toward the headland, three young men were playing hacky-sack. I looked a bit closer. Hacky-sack...

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Yes he did. Right between the eyes. It hurt like hell. ´Well I don´t think he did it on purpose´I lied. He was just really angry and he got out of control. Jimmy´s face was turning a strange shade of purple, he looked so enraged I thought he was on the verge of losing it. ´Thats it!- On what planet is it ok for an employer to hit an employee! It´s 2011,those kind of things shouldn´t happen!´. He grabbed his keys from the coffee table and moved towards the door. I ran and stood in front of it in a...

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This is the draft of my next novel

This is the scene/event that my subconscious created for me that caught my imagination, and made me believe it could be spun out into a whole book, because it was so good. SO good!

This is the ending I thought my agent/publisher would probably want me to finish it with. I don't actually like it that much.

This is something that happened in my actual life that is funny/poignant/unbelievable but I think will add gravitas and depth to the book.

This is the point when i start grasping at formula to pad...

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There's somebody standing in the corner of my room.

He showed up yesterday. Waltzed in through the front door like he owned the place. Maybe he does, actually. I certainly don't.

I've been here for a couple of months. When the sun's up, I'm usually out doing something else, like fishing in the creek out back, or building a dam with rocks and fallen branches. It passes the time. Every now and then it even gets me something to eat.

But in all my time here, I'd never known anyone to even step off the sidewalk onto the lawn. Never...

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She leaned over, sideways from her stool, all tits and lips and curly hair falling in his direction.

"Got a light," she asked, sticking a cigarette in the corner of her painted mouth.

He set his beer down, just foam left and dug into his right pocket. Pulled out a lighter and slid it across the plywood painted like mahogany bar. She looked at the lighter, and moved her lips into a pout. Leaned in even closer and said "A gentleman would light it for me."

"You're in the wrong place if you're looking for gentlemen," he grunted, looking straight...

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Bombs were the last thing on his mind. If he lost this poker game, it would be his death anyway. The lights flickered, the ceiling dripped and the cigarettes had long since expired. The gaunt janitor across from him wheezed in a satisfied rheumy way. There it is. His tell for a rotten hand.

The girl with the brown eyes sucked on her teeth. The bombs above loosed plaster from the ceiling and it salted her hair. She shook it off like a dog, her brow creased in concentration. She had been squinting the entire game, suffering her near-sighted bet...

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