Reading the random prompt for today I felt a shiver of unease as though someone had been spying on me throughout my life. I am not who I appear to be. Not a rich suburban housewife whose main pleasure in life is secretly eating a tub of toffee icecream watching daytime tv as my millionnaire husband is working overtime and entertaining clients with champagne in a 5 star restaurant. I spend my life between two worlds, a medieval princess whose life is complicated by my uncle, a brooding bishop and a bastard brother who thinks he has a claim to...

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A Time to grow
And a Time to grow old
A Time to learn
And a Time to teach
A Time to receive
And a Time to give
A Time to look forward
And a Time to look back
A Time to face a new day
And a time to lay down your burdens and rest
As that new day shines on the newer life ready to meet it.
As the sun sets on one life,
It rises on another
And all is right with the world.

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Light. Heat. Flame. Fire. Water. Wind. Sky. Skymall. Worst catalog ever. Useless items. The infomercial of magazines. Gadgets and gizmos that nobody needs. Needful Things by Stephen King(s). Free-associating. The Association of Free Words. Become a member today. The Today Show. Show me the money. Money in the bank. Bank of America. Abbreviation: BofA. Bofa makes me laugh. I love to laugh. This always appears in personal ads. Who doesn't love to laugh? People in TV ads love to laugh. A laugh riot. Riot gear. Top Gear. Gearing up for war. War of the Worlds. World War III. III blind...

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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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Waves of black ink, striking against the porcelain-like skin of my hand. They twist around my fingers and across the back of my hand, turning and sweeping. I stare at the lines and swirls on my hand and try to remember. I try to think back to remember how they got there. I try to think of something, anything that might give me a clue to what it means but nothing comes. My classmates brush past my and I can feel their eyes boring into me. Yeah, I know it's weird but I'm sure it means something. It has to....

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A girl with caramel eyes. That's all I know about her. She's a girl with caramel eyes. I wonder, vaguely, what shade of caramel: I murdered someone in a sweets factory once. There were so many different shades of caramel. Brown, dripping, honey sticky and sweet. Caramel is a wide field. I hope there is time to paly with her before she dies. That's the best part, playing with them. I want to watch her eyes widen as she watches me trace a knife around her throat. Maybe, if she's not a fat lump, I'll even kiss her. Not soft,...

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The sound reverberated through the streets. I dropped to my knees, the metal in the synth-leg clanging against the metal walkway. The bullet had entered between the third and fourth rib, penetrating the layer of inlaid titanium armour. I knew I didn't have much time left. I could feel the oil from my implants and my blood mixing and pouring down my chest.

My executioner stood before me, laser sight trained on my skull, ready to put me away for good. I had to act fast.

"Now, now, sweetie, don't do anything rash." He flashed a smile, showing off his...

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Tina is at 6 AM mass every day, no fail. Masses in the Catholic church only change once a week and they revert back every year. In the five years since she's gone daily to mass, she's heard this particular mass 33 times already. Blessed is she among women.

The sanctuary at St. Agnes' smells like a basement. There is mold, dust, incense, old women with wool stockings and perfume. The pew closest to the door on the right-hand side is where Tina always sits. There isn't even a kneeler on it and Tina genuflects with her knees on the...

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The sun this morning grows short thick shadows from the cobblestones. A sweaty head against the curb, red hatching at his temple, bleeds dark light onto the lane.

Did someone win last night?
No, the square is too clean.
But it's too late for so little noise.

Perhaps the town has emptied its contents into the universe, jettisoned the citizenry, the mutts and ferals, the tourists and the visitors.

Oh, the visitors.

Who were those visitors? Cheerless, I thought at first. But, no, I reconsidered, occupied.

I look back at the sweaty head, shake mine, and continue, hand in my...

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The fat girl at Kentucky Fried Chicken touched my forehead with the palm of her hand. Her skin was oily and she had pimples. There was a green fungus growing on one armpit and I knew that when she was in junior high, she played the trombone. But I let her touch me anyway.

"You are not where you belong," she said. "You are not doing what you are meant to do."

"What am I meant to do?" I asked. "I know it's not to be a porn star because that would mean getting laid and that is something I...

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