The corridor was dark. He could hardly tell where he was going. All James could do now was grope around in the dark dusky cellar. Searching for it in this decrepit old place seemed to be a good idea at first before. James just wanted to find that locket and get out of this place. He can feel the cold stagnant air in the cellar creeping down the back of his ratty old shirt. Finally he could make out what seemed to be a door just in front of him. James reached his hand out into the surrounding darkness to...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
"Are you my mom?" she would ask to the passersby.
Some people would stop and inquire if she was lost, but she would just shake her head.
Some people would offer to take the girl with them to the police, but she would just run away down a narrow alley where they couldn't follow.
Most people would just ignore her and her perfect, shining red gown, taking her for some unlucky trickster.
But one day, a young woman came down the street, her eyes veiled in...
She heard their labored breathing coming closer now. She huddled closer into the doorway, willing herself to be blend into the red painted facade of the building. She shut her eyes, a childish hold-over, believing that if she couldn't seem them, they couldn't see her. Of course she knew that wasn't true, but maybe if she closed her eyes, tight enough, she could mute the pounding of her heart; a sound so loud she was convinced her pursuers could hear it echoing in the damp and empty alley way.
"BANG!" She nearly screamed out, at the sudden and intrusive sound....
Gavin was gloating. "Enjoy your final moments, Kevin ... maybe use them to wonder how I found you. Good-bye ..."
He dismissively gestured at Paul, his personal bodyguard and hitman. Paul, with an expression of a stone, drew a nine-millimeter out of his coat and pointed it at me.
I had to stop him. "Paul, I can give you two very good reasons not to pull that trigger."
Paul said nothing. But he also did nothing. "First: I know where Kendra is."
That got his attention. He still didn't move, though. "She's in China, which you probably already know, but...
Time.
Time is everything. It allows you to understand what happened to you, and why.
In a minute, two, three. She understood.
She understood more with each minute than the minute before.
They were separated because it was too dangerous for him to stay. She was protecting him, she was doing the right thing. Or at least, she was trying to convince herself that it was the right thing to do.
Time. She thinks about all these years they spent together ; All of these things they accomplished.
And she felt pride in her sadness.
They were finally together, but...
It was easy to sit at the beach.
The sea could've been swirling around her toes, if she so wished, she could've been leaping up and jumping over the waves with gay abandon, giggling, squealing with delight as they tickled the hem of her skirt.
Or the sand could've been squelching between her toes, getting stuck in niggling places, to be found later on as she padded barefoot through the house (except that she wouldn't be barefoot, she'd be sandfoot - grains attaching themselves to her skin and not leaving for days - weeks? - on end).
Or she could...
She'd have preferred the electric chair, at least that one bloody moved. She could get up a good speed on that one, maybe she could get out of it, escape their sympathetic looks. It was bad enough losing the power in your legs without their condescending looks. Idiots.
Apparently it was a "power chair", but, frankly, bollocks to that. Jokingt that she was living out a death sentence was one of her few pleasures left - that terror in their eyes, the "oh god how do we respond to that" was what she was living for right now.
Actually, that...
These images flash in my brain whenever I close my eyes. A metal door. A girl in a red gown. Rain in a filthy alley.
I can't shut them off. I can't forget. I tried to drown myself in a bar, years ago. I couldn't forget then, I can't forget now. These memories of her are too strong.
She said her name was Maria. Her English was heavily accented. Her name wasn't Maria and we both knew it. I never learned where she came from. It wasn't something I wanted to know. Sometimes you have to walk past the detail;...
This happened every single time.He stared at the blank piece of paper. It was taunting him. He sharpened his pencil again. He traced the edges of the paper again. He looked out the window. The rain was falling again. Softly. Looking back at the paper, he wondered why he ever tried to write. He put the pencil to the paper, thinking the action would prompt the thought. But it just left a small mark. He smudged it with his finger. If he could just write something. He tried to think about what he was feeling. Nothing. He tried to think...
REALLY?? THIS is where the last 30have lead me?
A mere two weeks in to my 30-th year in this life and I look around.
Over the years I've asked myself many questions. Why? Why am I here? WHAT!!? What happened? In a relationship or with my business.But one question still stands out in my ever burning mind....REALLY?
Not so mush of a question, but rather, a statement of anxiety or disbelief. I have no desire to fail, but to succeed. No desire to just "make it", but to win!
I realized that there is more in my question than...