Christmas morning. It was always something excting and special when I was growing up. There would be a grand Christmas tree set up in the corner, sparkling with the many cheerful lights, music playing softly in the background, and the smell of fresh holiday baking floating in the air. As kids, we would always sleep underneath the dinning room table on that night before Christmas. Well, sleep may not be the right term, we were usually much too excited to close our eyes. In the morning at 7:30 sharp, we would rouse my parents out of bed and gather around...
A game. Thats what i thought it was, thats what my father told me it was. I was a child during world war II, a jewish child. My father took us to the station to catch the train towards the camp. He told me it was an excursion. WHen we git to the camo we were seperated from mum. The uniformed men spil us in to men and women. We were taken to a store room that was turned into a bunker, when a soldier walked in. He needed a translater to translate the soldiers commands to italian as most...
," chuckled Doctor Disaster. Twenty years of supervillainy was finally starting to pay off. He adjusted the dials on his cheese-ray to provide maximum transmutation output, then settled in to wait.
When the Moon was fully transformed into a large ball of cheese, the change in tidal forces would wreak havoc on the coastal cities and infrastructure of the modern world. Billions would suffer; unless, or course, they acknowledged Dr. Disaster as their overlord.
There was only one small obstacle for him to overcome.
His archnemesis, Improbable Man, would be here soon. There was no way Disaster could think of...
The Moon would never be the same again. Not after the things I saw, the things I knew that were hiding there. I could never again look up at night without a shudder, without averting my eyes from the horror of it.
The Moon's sickly light, reflected sunlight turned mocking and wrong, crept in through my shuttered windows. I had taken to taping them up, afraid to go out at night, afraid of what might be there.
They walked down on moonbeams, those horrible things with too many angles, walked down and fed. I remember the first time I saw...
He was a walking arsenal with knives strapped to his armor at forearms, biceps, chest and back. Two smaller throwing knives protruded from his boots. Across his back, a large Claymore peeked over his head.
He was a walking arsenal. Deadly. Powerful. Angry at the world. His deep black eyes burned with flame. His lantern jaw was clenched with determination. He eld himself erect, his arms resting easily at his sides. Suddenly, the call came and he swept into the undead hordes ahead of him, knives leading the way. His word came out at the last instant, slashing through the...
She could tell I was faking it. After twenty years of marriage, she could read my thoughts like a book. She spoke to me with her eyes and, although she was silent, I heard everything.
"What's wrong? Why won't you talk to me?" Her green eyes shone as she "spoke." I looked down and my eyes fell on my wedding band. How much longer would this last? I knew what I had done. I had lied to her. A marriage can't stand on lies - I know that.
She looked at me again and reached for my hand. I squeezed...
Elspeth closed her eyes and desperately tried to focus on the frantic noises coming from her headphones. The general static briefly gave way to a hideously drawn out scream, followed by a voice she recognised as belonging to the captain of her unit.
"Fire at will! That is an order, sergeant! They're coming in!"
The note of panic was unmistakeable.
When Elspeth finally opened her eyes, she knew why. The sky was filled with terrible, shrieking pink wings, and every piece of air seemed to want to attack her. Summoning her last reserves of strength, she desperately raised her plasma...
The seven of them gathered around the long dinner table and silently shuffled the serving platters clockwise. Mechanical arms held, then spooned and dropped food, taping the edge lightly against the plate. Then back in the dish and passed the person to their left, and they received from the right.
Pitchers of iced water sat sweating in the middle, surrounded by short glasses, and borders by salt and pepper shakers and piles of napkins.
When all the plates were filled and the serving dishes stopped moving they leaned their heads down and a silent prayer ran from the moving lips....
That fucking cat. How is despised that insignificant ball of mutualized space.
How is its calico and limber body silently creeped around corner, caused my jaw to clench and my palms to quiver. I would do anything to take that rodent and dismember it's jointed body.
Don't get me wrong I am not one to be murderous or even harmful for that matter, but my hatred for that that fury thing lingers in every moment of its presence.
Why couldn't she just leave it to suffer that gloomy saturday? The pound was stale and seeped with death, just where that...
Heaven; such a harmonious place.
With luscious trees and elevated mountains.
A lighthouse standing tall in the distance;
An lingering canoe floating in the shimmering lake.
Billowy clouds soaring across the sky.
A car driving down the road.
God is in presence;
We are in heaven.