The breeze was blowing softly as Kendra woke. It was noon and the hustle and bustle of the streets were still unfamiliar to her. She have move to Haven after the event that rock the world to it's core. Life seem to getting back to normal but there are reports of an encroaching force from across the dead zone. She'll be safe here in the walled off city. She remembers to the surface days
The dream had been wonderful, yet it would never be real. All property already let. Already sold. Already gone.
"Renting or buying?" The neat young executive type, sipping his coffee next to me, pointed at the property paper. I'd been looking for 6 months and it was killing me.
"It's murder." I shifted to give him space to sit, and sighed. "I own a small shit hole I've got to get out of. You an Estate Agent?"
"No, but these guys will get you somewhere to rest your bones…" My gaze followed his finger to a small ad tucked under...
"Skipper! Where are you, dammit?"
Op.8. Op.8.
"Wretched dog! You've only got so much time!"
Locate Rory. Locate. Locating. Locating.
"Where are you?" Another voice chimes in. "I want my paper. It's early in the morning. They told us you were an obedient creature."
Rory found, chasing butterflies on the south lawn. Come closer. Closer.
The little girl shouts, "Skipp-er! Skipp-er!"
Skipper barks, and Rory calls back. Safety is across the bridge, across the broken-windowed fairy house and shattered pond, but the voices are coming and Skipper has no idea how to stop them.
"I want my newspaper! Come over...
She knelt on the tile floor, carefully picking up the shards of glass. Why did it have to be this one that broke? The dust swirled from the broken jar as water trickled out, bits of greenery carried along with it. World jars were expensive, and none to easy to make or acquire.
Another small little universe left to dry on the floor. She wept a bit as she tried to sweep the glass together with her hands, avoiding the sharp edges. She really should get a broom, but the strength to stand seemed to have left her. Why did...
So, give me more details, sweetie. No, not that kind of detail!
Where'd you go? What'd you eat? What'd you wear? Come on, babe, we need more, more, more!
Did he pay? Wait, I need to light up...ok, go. Credit card? Flashy. You're kidding - champagne? On a first date? Seriously flashy.
Ok, so what next? Did he leave a tip? No way, cheapskate! Bet they remember him there anyway.
And where'd he take you? His flat? What, the old "my mother's staying with me so we've got to go to a hotel" line? You're kidding - no-one really says...
The bird landed. Crunch. The baseball bat followed quickly after. Another sparrow came too close and the burly man pivoted, keeping his hands close to his core, pounding the bird into deep left field. Children scampered behind him, scooping the carnage into banker's boxes.
75, 76, 77. 77! That's $19.25!
At a quarter per sparrow, the money wasn't great, but for a handful of the invasive species, one could get a loaf of bread.
The initiative had been welcome by ecologists and nationalists alike. "An English bird has no place in American habitats," one said. "An English bird has no...
The ransom never came, poor fools.
The two kidnappers waited with young Jacob Cartee standing between them. The boy looked well, unhurt by the men who'd taken him. That was good. James despised child abusers. "In ten," James said softly, speaking into the mike on his collar.
He shifted his weight, noted the direction of the wind. Slowly, he inhaled as he gazed through the scope on his M99. Time counted down. At "one" he exhaled and pulled the trigger. One of the kidnappers - he'd taken to calling him Ogre - went down instantly. A second bullet escaped the...
The words hovered beneath my glowing finger, power incarnate. I lifted the text, spinning it lazily in the air, before hurling the curse at the image of my nemesis.
The photo I had ripped from the backcover of her book dissolved, dripping onto the table, her face hideously deformed, the black ink staining the tablecloth beneath.
"She thinks she can write horror," I said, the deathly silence of the basement swallowing my words. "She doesn't know what horror is." I smiled. "Yet."
Could there be a bigger fool? Who stands in the rain, waiting for a girl that doesn't even like him that way? Or probably doesn't like him that way.
Her class was done ten minutes ago, and she should have been out by now. Her text was pretty clear - she just needed someone to help her carry her stuff to the car. He was close, he had an umbrella, he was an idiot, and he loved her. The perfect combination.
He supposed that she knew how he felt, that she was just... what? Taking advantage of him? Maybe. He...
My brother said feet aren't always the problem. He grabbed my arm and said this is sometimes the worst problem. Your arm can get caught in the handles of the safety boat. When it opens and releases, when it pops open, it has some loops that get caught in people arms and hands. They panic and get sucked under water. "How do you know this happens?" "Has it happened to you?"
"no, it hasn't". I've seen videos. I watch many, many videos to prepare myself. The more gruesome the better. I figure I need to prepare for the worst, that's...