If given enough time to think of it he would go back into the fire to get it. The moment the Christmas gift was opened, he got up and filled the cup with coffee. Ever since then and with few exceptions it had been used most every day. It was white with Disney's Magic Kingdom logo on it just over the letters D-A-D also in blue. This wasn't his style or desire, but yet this was. He knew the minute he picked it up who the previous owner was, and it was a connection that he would never make in...
My grandma had this incredible house. Like one of the ones you see in movies. Like, this is going to be a really crazy example, but did you ever see "The Tigger Movie"? Like Winnie the Pooh. There's this part where they're in the attic and I always remember wishing we had an attic with all that cool old stuff to explore in our house. Then I found Grandma's attic and I knew I'd hit something special! There was actually a stand-up mirror covered in a sheet and a few large trunks full of old clothes! So great.
I think...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. Matilda was a small, scraggy, skinny cat (or maybe kitten, he wasn't completely sure) who had turned up out of nowhere on the day he moved into the house.
Obviously a stray, with patches of pale pink skin shining through the missing squares of black fur, his heart ached when he saw her. An actual, physical pain which surprised him. He was not a caring person. He scrabbled through boxes marked 'KITCHEN' until he found an old tin of tuna that had been shoved to the...
They gathered in the woods. On Summerisle. The pagan community anticipating a good harvest. Burning the trapped victim in The Wicker Man twisted and crafted into shape by the hands of the children and teachers at school.
I watched from a distance, secretly recording. Traitor in the midst. They were my family, friends, neighbours. I was one of them yet I was not. I was a Christian. Would-be outcast in this community, not that anyone knew. This was going to be my parting gift to them.
Freedom from sin. End of a barbaric ritual. Once exposed to the rest of...
Not that he could fell it, but judging from the way he staggered with every few steps, his legs hadn't healed completely. It was likely he was setting himself up to trip and collapse again, unable to move, but he knew he couldn't stay any longer. He tried to make his steps as steady as possible, but with no percerption of how much weight he was applying, he was at a loss to gauge if he was accomplishing much, and in the back of his mind simply waited for the tell-tale crack of bones re-fracturing, and plummet into the grass....
story by Monsterbat, typed by mom:
"Sit up, please."
She sat up, her hair gleaming, her eyes glistening. She'd gotten these for free since she had gotten the deal. Show one picture of yourself in the magazine, get one physical therapy session free. She said, "You aren't very qualified at this; are you?"
Another arm got wrenched off. "Oops, sorry."
"You know what, that's it. Even if I'm a zombie, I have some rights. And if I hadn't eaten the court, I'd take you to one." Blood started dripping from her lips.
"Why don't you make a zombie court," he...
She slept in the open air, in the windy hills, on a soft pillow. She was covered in the blankets of her mother's mother. She sang God's songs. When she played music, her hands made the strings talk and her voice accompanied. From atop her hill no one could hear her. The would hear her one day. She spoke God's words. When finally she slept, she would always dream. New songs would be woven in her head, on that soft pillow. Her message was the word of God and when she came down off this mountain she would save her...
She loved that old house. It used to be one of the very first churches built in the tiny town that had disappeared around it. Then it went up for sale and the woman had jumped at the chance to buy it. The renovation was long and expensive but as she stood inside the finally finished building she thought that just maybe it was here little slice of heaven on Earth.
Smiling, she let the vaulted front door close behind her and turned to move to the brand new staircase that lead from the entry foyer towards the upstairs. Putting...
"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...
I would have otherwise been absolutely fine. Everything was going according to plan. We were doing it. Oh, it was bliss.
Never would I have thought that events would turn the way they did. Oh it began with just a simple slip. The gravel underneath my feet began to shake. The panels seemed to slip from below. But my friend was convinced we would be okay. I told him it was a terrible idea. Sneaking onto random roofs. What were we thinking?
Well, I wasn't, that's for sure. I'm not sure if he was thinking or not, either. But he...