"Peasants," he thought, and stuck his pitchfork into a square of hay.
"What do they know about building a good, angry mob?"
He hoisted the bale onto a workbench and began teasing handfuls of straw out, putting them in neat piles.
He came from a family of mob organizers and leaders. Three generations of good, strong men who knew how to lead a group of frothing townsfolk up mountain passes, across fields and to the front gates of witches, evil doctors and foreign-born ne'r do-wells.
The secret to a good mob was in staying organized. Make sure everybody's got something...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda.
It was a long, lazy summer afternoon in the local park. She was swinging gently on one of the children's swings, fingers interwoven with the metal chains, face turned up to the sun. He didn't notice her at first, lying stomach-down on the grass with his nose buried in a book. But his attention wandered briefly from the page and came to rest upon her slim figure and there was something about her that captured his attention.
She was oblivious. She arched her back, stretched her...
Water. Surrounded her from every direction on the huge cruise ship. She loved being out in the ocean, looking out as far as she could see and seeing nothing but water.
Her husband, on the other hand...
"Honey, please get up. Open your eyes and see!"
He shook his head, grasping tighter to his paper bag. "Shouldn't have allowed you to talk me into this...never should have listened to you."
She sighed, thinking her husband sounded so sickly and confused. Sad thing is he never threw up, loaded up on motion sickness meds weeks in advanced, and he barely felt...
Wine. I knew that the Prosecco was cold enough and I was nervously stepping all over the apartment waiting for her to show up.I loved her. She knew that, but all she could give me was her frienship she said. Oh How much I hated that phrase, it kept pounding on my head like an hammer. I had the wine, sparkling Prosecco. If ...maybe....I was dreaming. I met her when she was very young. She was as beautiful as a star in the dark skies of Arizona. She wanted to be an actress..I was going to help her with my...
Giving in wasn't an option, but there was little else she could do.
"Ok, ok," she told the young galant with the sharp blade, "take whatever you want. Just don't hurt me."
The rascal had a look in his eye so sharp it could cut glass. "What I want, my lady," he said, drawing the space out between words to give them import, "is you."
The young woman's eyes widened, her ruby lips opened, but words failed her.
Reaching down, he made himself ready for his reward; then laid his hands upon-
her chastity belt.
Freed of the constraints of...
Why didn't you hear me when I called? Or did I not hear you hearing me? Is that possible? I guess anything's possible these days. Just turn on anything. Better yet, try turning something off. Good luck. I think the whirring sound above may have something to do with your leaving, but I've been wrong before. Please give a sign. I'll just stand here. No wait, I'll stand here instead. How's this? Is this far enough to be safe? Look, I'm not even waving my arms. I'm simply here for you and your lazy gesture. How many have made that...
In 1921, he flew from the Great Rift Valley. That was the foundation of his reputation. Whispered, announced, stated, introduced, it always provided a collective puckering of lips, a breathing of "oohs" and then sips of champagne as fingers were taken into hand, and warm, hearty pats on the back offered. What a way to enter a party, what a ticket into every party!
He never tired of these parties, the compliments on his swarthy, sun embraced flesh, and the women who plucked at his sleeves and asked what it was like up there, racing against clouds. A man could...
100 feet away. She had only been 100 feet away.
I could have caught up with her, stopped her maybe, but my feet were rooted to the one spot, and hers were just about to float out over the edge.
She turned and smiled and waved just a little, her hand moving from side to side, like we saw the Queen do once on television.
Then she jumped.
Then my feet decided they were free to move as I wanted them to and I ran to the edge. I looked out and saw her head break the surface of the...
I had been running for just over an hour, almost breathless. Whose idea was it to train for this marathon anyways? I've always liked running, but never really enjoyed it, you know? There are only so many routes you can take. This time, I decided to say screw the concrete jungle, I'm going to take this somewhere different. So I took to the hills, as they say. Not gonna lie, it was much more interesting than running on pavement. The damp grass under my shoes, the crunching of the twigs, all that good stuff. I stopped at the top of...
They would never stop.
She used to love the sight of birds on a rooftop, electric wires, even clotheslines. She used to feed them in the park, throwing crumbs and other leftover sandwich bits to the flock that would land on the concrete and nibble at her feet. But they were not content.
They wanted more.
Soon, she noticed the flock flying behind her car as she drove home from work, the store, the school. They would line up behind her like children behind the Pied Piper, only these children had coal black eyes and hearts to match. They were...