Freddy knew once he'd started to hallucinate he was Napoleon that he'd smoked a joint too far. Or Allison had sneaked something strange in there. His mouth tasted of ash and flecking leaves.
We're all eating cake! he shouted. He couldn't hear very well in his left ear, it seemed to echo there. His voice was strange. Tiny, as if he were a mouse.
Agatha, who was currently drinking blood from a wineglass, told him that was the wrong thing to say. He wasn't Marie, now was he? And even then that wasn't what she really said.
Freddy didn't care...
Lost in an amusement park, it slowly dawned on Mack that he was the luckiest child in the world--complete and total freedom from parental tyranny. He already planned on eating cotton candy for every meal. He would live in the storybook house near the magic beanstalk. No more homework, room cleaning, vegetable eating; it was a dream come true.
Mack made a beeline to the first ride on his agenda: The Serpent. This sleek steel coaster boasted six inversions, and a stomach-flipping double-dip that made him actually squeal with glee. He stepped into the queue, and awaited his turn.
The...
"You did not eat the cake?" Pog levelled her gaze on her husband. "But you proposed to me that very day."
"And you have thought all these years that I was only with you because of a silly spell?" Will laughed.
Meg cleared her throat. "Happen I am still here tha know. They are very good spells, but in truth they only really give you the love you deserve. Always a cost to these things… Beyond the silver, that is." The old woman eyed the young maid conspiratorially.
"A lesson that is not mine to teach, but one you should...
I had a dream the other night. Meazles, my cat from when I was a crabby twelve year old, was driving a city bus and trying to run me down. It was terrifying. I don't even know why I would have a dream like that. I mean, I loved that cat. He was my constant companion until I left for college. I always felt guilty that I couldn't take him with me. Even after I got my own apartment, they didn't allow pets, so I only saw Meazles once in awhile when I would visit my parents. I wonder if...
Lange onboard sweating it out, Lange onboard getting cold grits, Lange in his bunk in those pitiful few hours to himself when he could think on his home, on the vast seas between him and it. Reciting lines--fragments--from those books his sister Rachel used to read aloud. The carousing above over and only flatulence angry growling left over.
And when the crew came alongside the _Steadfast_, and murdered the husband in plain sight of the wife and the girl, whom they took below, Lange mopped blood and chummed the sea with the husband's body for the sharks. It was then...
She looked at the words on the page. 'It was a pleasure to burn.' She read them upside down, glancing sneakily across the dark wooden table at the book open in front of her fellow library user. Kelly needed to get to work, she'd had a number of extensions already granted on her final essay, she had to get finished this week. But she couldn't take her eyes off the person in front of her. She was acting oddly, not turning the page, staring at that one sentence. Then, a giggle escaped the girl's lips and she flung her head...
"Of all the times my back has to go out, it decides to do it with a freaking hurricane coming," Susan fumed. "I haven't even had time to board up the windows or glue down the silverware."
The dark storm clouds crept closer and closer and closer to her home.
"Why is that godforsaken mailbox so far from the house?" she cried, needing to focus her frustration at being completely helpless on something, on anything.
Susan tried to stretch out her back, tried to stand up, but the pain snapped at her lower back lips whips. She cried out, hoping...
It was there in the cold, I didn't beleive what I was seeing at first. I felt the chill that he must have felt, tasted the salt that he must have tasted and beneath my feet felt the soft caress of the sand as the rushing tide pulled the sand from under me.
It was a hat, that was all that was left soaked in brine and covered in seaweed.
I could picture him, pulling off his clothes with a cold determination on a warm summers day. In sight of noone he walked to the bin and buried them underneath...
We sat silently in the bunker. We received the call a few hours ago. HQ could not send back up, and the horde was descending on our location.
We held a massive attack on the base last week, but after that was thrown at us, we lost too many men to stay. But we did, as our orders were to do so.
Those bugs just would not stop coming, and apparently they hatched new creations. This time, they will win.
Julio smokes and Johnson just stares at the ground. The bunker could hold for an hour, maybe. We secured the...
To run was the only thing he could do. He couldn't escape the overwhelming feelings.
He couldn't escape the overwhelmingly heavy burden of the path he was given. It was his path, yes. Or was it a shared path? He suspected it was, but there was no one who could verify it. No one. He was Forrest Gump, just running. And the Bubba Gump Shrimp Factory was his reward. Momma said life was a series of bumps-- raised sheaves of sidewalk to step over or turn around and avoid. So he runs.