I used to follow my grandfather up the field, gathering potatoes. He would pull them up and leave them like gold nuggets, glowing on the topsoil. I came behind with a trug that was big enough for my baby brother to sleep in. I struggled when the trug was nearly full, and I'd have to set it down every few yards and watch my grandfather as he worked mechanically ahead of me.
I daydreamed that, one day, there would be a real gold nugget lying on the row. I would take iot to the bank and a big man with...
The gate closed behind them. That is what George wanted me to convey to his grieving son. I did not understand what this meant but it is part of the course of being a messenger for the dead. You don't really know the significance of what you are being told.
The worst part of all this was trying to tell people their loved ones want to them to know something. Many will be very rude to you, others will ignore you. The part of it I dislike the most is when you know they are so vulnerable they will misinterpret...
This sludgy finger of water curling around the land. A mucky smile that hides whatever you slip inside of it. The lake never tells.
So I'm pleased you chose this place to meet, my dear. You have solved a riddle I've kept hidden behind my own smile. Come closer for a moment so I can see your face in the moon. Let's walk down to the water's edge and peer deep into eternity.
I didn't want to meet you tonight. My plan was as unsettled as a river. But you pinched it off into something definable, and I feel calmer...
Mist and fog everywhere.
It had started off as a beautiful African day. 30 degree heat and so they only wore shorts and t-shirts and packed a few sandwiches. No point taking unnecessary baggage, they told themselves. This is an impromptu safari. Let's be adventurous.
Then the fog came down. They weren't expecting this. And the track just sort of faded out. Bumping over grass in the battered landrover, they could see no familiar landmarks, nothing to lead them back to the road.
They were cheerful and amused at first. Lost in Africa! How foolish. What a great story. Then...
Dressed as a blue cow-like demon, the boy started taking pictures of the wall. The camera was heavy in his small ungloved hands. When he pressed the red button on the top an audible click could be heard and helped persuade him to take as many pictures as quickly as possible to hear that sound in rapid succession.
The camera was his fathers, an old one, one that was locked up until the recent garage sell his mother had. When she got to the box labeled 'Dave's' she sat on it and cried. It was a welcomed moment and she...
"Tell me what you did. Tell me what you did yesterday."
She was at the bottom of the stairs in her own house. She was alone, but she knew she wasn't. The lights were off and it was dark.
"I was home. There was nobody there, except him."
She put her foot on the first step, and slowly pulled herself up. When she reached the second floor, she put her hand on the railing to steady herself.
"I felt like I was going to pass out. It was because of him."
She walked into her bedroom, looking nonchalant though there...
The warm breeze touched her face, sparking memories of his fingertips and how they would brush her hair from her eyes in their moments of tenderness. She remained standing still, her eyes closed, for some time.
Eventually she opened them and looked down the grassy hill to the town below, the tall ships in the harbour, the people bustling on the docks. He was there. Somewhere.
She could see his ship off in the distance, it's distinctive sails billowing in the wind. Glancing back down at the dock she wondered when others would spot it.
After what seemed like an...
He was obviously part of the mob.
If you didn't know the mob like Claudia did, you would have said that was a foolish statement. You would have looked down and not seen a mid-level member of the criminal organisation that secretly ran more than four-fifths of the city.
You would have seen a dog.
But Claudia had been a beat cop for more than a century now, and if you survive that long, it's because you know things. You know how to look past class, how to look past species.
You saw the stance, the attitude, the carefully positioned...
Kandace made me kneel, which was hard to do since my hands were tied behind my back, and jerked the burlap sack off my head. I'm sure she took a few strands of my hair with it. I was kneeling in front of a small wooden table, upon which sat three tea light candles, their tiny flames stood perfectly still. The room beyond was pitch black. The scent of melting wax thickened the air I was trying to breathe. Kandace doesn't know I have asthma. She has stuck a piece of duct tape across my mouth, keeping my complaints muffled....
Divinity. Envied by those less fortunate to be born into royalty and riches. I look at the fat men that I cater to and the goddess-like wives. Oh how I despise these fat sultans of our backwards society. I watch everyday, as they come down to the pool, indulging their disgusting appetites, and scarfing down another man's hard labor. Ceaselessly, they surround themselves with more and more food, women, and indignifying entertainment. How is it that there is such a place where the fat and lazy sit on their asses all day, where as the hard, working, and noble servant...