"I'm having no part in this. I'm having nothing to do with any of it. Because it's wrong. You're wrong. This entire thing is...it's wrong. It's just...wrong."
"Have you always been good with words?" He sauntered closer, pale fingers tracing my cheek, my neck. "You're relying quite heavily on that word. Wrong. Have you thought about what it really means? How damning it truly is? I don't think you have."
I hated the feel of his fingers across my skin, hated the jolt that had run straight through me, hated the tingling, hated the - I hated it.
He was...
The Earth hung there in the window, a massive disk of blue and white fixed against the uniform blackness of space. The sun's light illuminated the nearer half of the globe; through the clouds Jolene could see a glimpse of North America.
"What is this?!" she demanded, her fear magnified into true panic. "What is this, some kind of trick? Who are you? Answer me!"
"It is no trick," replied the computerized voice. "I am someone you know well, but I must not tell you now. There is not much time; you must do exactly as I say."
"What? Why...
It was just a test. Just to see what it was like, or what he was like. With trepidation he inched his way forward. There he was finally. Sitting on the edge of the cliff. Life had been rough lately, or rather it had been rough to live his life of boredom. The doldrums. He wanted to see what he was made of. Sitting there on the edge of the cliff he thought he might be able to make some meaning of life. He was not planning on jumping. Life was lame, but not that lame. He just figured that...
It was my "life's work," that's what they call such a thing, but it makes it sound so organised, like my life was something i contolled and I sensibly chose each morning to get up and expend my earthly energies on this tower. "You must have a lot of self-discipline" people say to me when I meet them at parties and we discuss our lives as though we see them clearly, as patterns of behaviour about which we can make broad statements. I try to answer, as best I can, saying something appropriately self-effacing.
What I'd like to tell them...
Her mother was going to kill them when they got home, but she couldn't help it. Flinging her legs high above the corn that surrounded them, she gave a happy giggle and sighed.
"What are you thinking of now?" Greg asked her, pressing a kiss to her hair as he stretched out an arm across her stomach.
"I was thinking of mother, and the stories she used to tell of boys in the corn fields." She put on a high pitched voice, eerily close to her mother's pitch, "they're only after one thing Rose. One thing!" Greg gave the girl...
Jason Adams was writing his last thriller. He wasn't concerned that it would be his last novel, in fact, it was as if all of his previous work had led him to this moment. This novel would be as close to real life as he could get.
Mark woke up, and in an instant he realized he was not in his bed. It was dark and damp, and he smelled blood. Just when he was about to stand up he heard the whimpering of a woman.
"Hello? Hello? Anyone, please help me. Where am I? Please, help me. Please" Janet...
She'd have preferred the electric chair. The clinic's lobby was a stale tan color. It was April, and there was a Christmas movie on TV for Christ's sake.
Her name was called, and she went to sign the form, pay the co-pay, and was assured by the lady at the desk that this was indeed, confidential. She was asked if the man next to her was the father, or her boyfriend, or something. She lied and said no. He looked upset but ultimately should have been glad that she said no, he'd probably end up getting arrested for rape, anyway....
Potatoes. All she could think of were potatoes. Since going on this diet, she was even dreaming about potatoes. Chips, drenched in vinegar; jacket potatoes filled with cheese; mashed potatoes; roast potatoes; any kind of potato. She was obsessed.
Every diet book had drilled it into her that carbs are bad, so if she was to drop two dress sizes before her best friend's wedding then potatoes were strictly forbidden.
She was excited about being bridesmaid, she really was. It was such an honour, though not totally unexpected, she and Haley had been friends since preschool. It was only natural...
She awoke tied to a post. It hurt throughout her face. The stupid chloroform had probably affected her oxygen levels, so she breathed fresh air in great gasps. the man stood in front of her, staring at her. "Willing to show us now? there is still a harem in Sauti Arabia that's looking for a girl like you." he said softly. She responded by spitting on his shoes. He pulled out a rag and tried to press it to her face, but she wrapped her hands around the pole and kicked upward as hard as she could, catching him in...
Waves lapped at her toes as she stood in the wet sand and looked across the sound to the island. A small plume of smoke rose from the chimney, hidden behind black spruce and birch trees.
She could see the canoe tied to the island's dock, rocking gently with the waves.
The image of the waves coming in both directions unearthed a memory or feeling she had kept buried for quite some time. Tim's waves had pushed in one direction and her's had surge in the opposite.
"What was in the middle. What pushed them apart," she wondered.
Now she...