War. Violence. We all see it on the tv, and the internet. It's all the hatred. It's everywhere now. There's so much hate, and all for no reason. But I know one thing that's true, I won't take part in it. I won't hate someone because of the color of their skin, or what they look like. Or who they love, and what they listen to. I will love you if you love me, and only hate if you show me hate. If you show me kindness, I will show you kindness in turn. But if you expect me to...
I watched as the creature - the whatever it was - floated on the soft breeze towards me. It had wings, but it didn't seem to want to use them, gliding through the air instead. As it got closer, my nerves started to act up.
I hate insects.
I hate anything with more than four legs and I'm not that keen on anything with more than two, if I'm honest about things.
I felt cheated as I watched it. The first sunny day in weeks, and I had a chance to enjoy it, sitting in the garden with a book...
The Bronx Zoo in my mind was empty. Maybe the gazelles were milling around Yankee Stadium, waiting for Catfish Hunter. The green grass of memory, my synapses folding in the sweeping July breeze, beheld the sweet roots of my birthday candles, climbing the kitchen air like lithesome monkeys, nimble as the imagination.
Whitechapel 1888. There was blood on my pillow again this morning when I awoke. My landlady has already been asking too many questions. It is time I moved to another residence.
I am looking forward to reading the newspapers today to gather the latest opinion on the terror in their midst. My good friends have been spreading rumours in many quarters so there have been a myriad of possible suspects, including those in very high places. The police are far too stupid to know where to look. I take especial delight in fooling Inspector Abberline, who should never have been...
It approached.
It was too bright. Light wasn't meant to be frightening, but this one was - it was too bright, and there was too much there, it meant too much.
Easier to turn away. But that wasn't an option anymore; there were other powers at work here. There was no escape route.
Everything was happening too quickly. No time to work out what to do, no time to even begin to create other options.
Just the light. The light and the fear. And the horror that was approaching.
In a rush, in a horrific scream, bathed in terrifying light,...
She kept her eyes down, on her shoes. People brushed past her, maybe impatiently. She didn't move, she didn't walk.
She waited for someone to take her hand, to try to talk to her, to lead her away. It didn't happen. No one looked at her. Nothing happened, and she heard nothing. Better that way, because how could she explain anything?
Making the decision, she walked over to the bench, sat down at the very edge, across from a display of vacuum cleaners. Still, she stared at her feet.
Without warning, he was standing in front of her, cheeks still...
"The key to the door is lying on the floor, a meter and a half to your right," it instructed. The more it spoke, the more unnatural it seemed to Jolene, the more artificial. Synthesized.
Slowly she followed its directives, feeling along the stone-cold floor in the dark. "Be quick," it admonished her tonelessly.
Finally her fingers brushed it; her pounding, she seized the key and stumbled her way back to the door. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm, and carefully inserted the key into the lock. To her relief, it turned, and the door moved...
Spinning.
The tiny clockwork bird danced (for want of a better term) in a circle, twirling, singing out its jaunty song.
She sat, watching it sing out its tune, listening to the unique tinny sound of the music box - there was something about that music, that paticular brand, which brought her back to childhood. As a child she had watched the bird, watched it in her mother's palm.
Her mother had, briefly, convinced her that this was a real bird, that this was what happened to them when they were caught, tamed. That you could teach them these songs,...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. The worse part was not the attempt on his life via drowning in ice water. It was not that he was probably on the verge of hypothermia like this. It was not that he had lost Labyrinth to the bottom of the lake. It was not the twitching brow and veiled contempt Solaris was expressing from him dripping water on his floors, mixed with his concern for his overall state of being, because all that could be fixed with a towel and a day of work.
No,...
The wind whistled around me, caressing me like i was its lover. Its icy touch leaving trails of fire all over my skin. I felt like i was the only man alive, standing on the pinnacle of planet earth. The ocean loomed below me, looking so warm and inviting, the waves pounding on the rocks relentlessly. The waves foamed like a dog with rabies, frothing at the mouth. It beckoned me to reach its dark depths
My legs trembled. it would be oh so easy to just jump
The gust gathered behind me, as if it was pushing me over...