Fights tend to start for no apparent reason. I say that was rude, then you tell me I was snotty first. It's a freakin' white t-shirt we argue over. One of mine I ruined myself with the blue detergent that sits on the washing machine. You throw it because I'm mad you brought it upstairs in the first place, when I was going to bleach it in the next day or so. Then I get more mad and tell you to not be mean to me, when really I guess I was the mad one in the first place. This...
So I wanted to go to Europe over the summer. I installed some security cameras in my house, because safety, you know. When I fast forwarded through some tapes, I noticed that the goldfish glas was slowly moving. I took some of the other cameras, so that I had extra angles of that goldfish glas. That night, my TV was stolen, while I was asleep in my bedroom. They broke in, stole my TV and all I could see was that goldfish. But that doesn't matter, because my goldfish is awesome. It is the best pet one could ever have....
We sit in white rooms now, spartan furnishings, novel-sized windows. The tea is warm yet still melts the chocolate. Today they let us hear a bird song. The leap of its whistle reminded me of something that used to occur, when things used to occur.
For some reason, Zombies love wedding veils. Maybe it's a snare mechanism, much like how Venus flytraps look beautiful on the outside before they devour their prey. Or maybe it's some attachment to the things that matter in life, that is, in non-Zombie life. In any case, this one had fooled that part of Ricky that had been longing for companionship of any sort. He had been holed away with canned beans, month-old cooked rice, and a shotgun for far too long not to feel the pangs of desire as she approached him from the woods.
Big mistake.
She lurched...
Looking out across the fields, Hannah smiled to herself. She had never felt more of a success, than she did right now. She almost wanted to laugh in the faces of the people who had told her she couldn't do it. All the ones who had sneered and ridiculed her dreams. Where were they now? Still back in the City, with their boring lives; working nine 'til five just to pay the bills; stuck in the drudgery of modern living.
Hannah was well free of all of that. Not ever twelve months ago, she had been one of them. High-flying...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "There'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead. I am out of food, out of electricity power for the radio, and abandonded in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. I do not know how or what happened that led up to the plane crash all I know is that I managed to survive two weeks on the scraps I found in the plane and a nearby pond. This is my last statement to the world if anyone finds this, I am going to travel north...
The room was white, that much was certain. Its brightness was intoxicating. Two men stood over a small table, they were draped in white lab coats and held brown clipboards. Their arthritic hands jotted and scrawled down various notes and blurbs, and they occasionally looked up from their clipboard to observe what was on the table. The table was round, and it had three legs that were in contact with the white floor. At the center of the table was a small white mouse, belly up, red eyes staring into oblivion. The creature was dead. It had been dead for...
The wall is the place most people choose on their own. You come for a day or a week and it's never to see the sights. The sights are immaterial, and not unexpected. Temples, tea houses with dripping peremera trees hanging soot and sleek flowers over damp pollenated tables. Once thriving book shops and market warrens closed down by the proper authorities. Cab drivers who direct you round about ways and never give useful directions. None of these things are unusual, or particularly memorable. It is instead, the wall itself, that calls to you. The wall is the reason you...
The window was a lot harder to get open than I expected. I guess they aren’t really designed to be opened, but they do open if you pull hard enough. The air felt good; fresher higher up than on the lower floors. And I could see the cityscape below, half hidden in morning mist. It was going to be a beautiful day.
My office was private, not one of the cubicles most of the employees occupied, like rows of Dilberts enjoying only partial privacy. I had earned my space by bringing in the numbers. I had worked my way up...
654 SYH. She sighed. "What the hell is this?"
"The plate," he said, the self-satisfied smirk on his ignorant face.
"Goddamn it." she said. "Mark, you are the most worthless cop ever. Just WRITE THE NUMBERS DOWN. Don't actually TAKE THE PLATES OFF OF THE CAR. That defeats the WHOLE POINT OF LICENSE PLATES."
His smile slipped a little. "Oh," he said, apologetically.
"I really can't understand how you can be so incompetent," she said. "If you were close enough to the vehicle for long enough to REMOVE THE PLATES, why the hell didn't you make an arrest?"
"Well, I...