It was all a laugh. The lion hunting, being carried around by the natives, sweating on the African planes. Life was one big hurrah. We were, after all, the Empire. Not just an empire, but the Empire. Below the snows of Kilimanjaro, we posed for our picture, giggling, playing with one another. This was life. This was the life that power built. Our power? Not so much. It was more a power build over the years. One conquest after another. Royal Africa Company. East India Company. Liverpool. Manchester. Watt, Arkwright, and so forth. We were something unique. The cool arrogance...

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Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She had just wrapped up a long evening answering the phone in her family's restaurant. She took the orders, and her brother and father cooked the food, while her mother ran the counter in the front of the neon food stall.

She was waiting for her best friend, but it looked like it was going to be a longer wait than usual. As she looked down at her red gown, she ran her hands over the cotton fabric and smoothed out some wrinkles, then created some...

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Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It was snowing, freezing her slowly. She continued shivering rubbing her arms to try and get warm. She started losing feeling, first her feet, moving up slowly. She panicked, she tried to move but she was stuck. It felt like something was holding her in place. The world started to go fuzzy, everything slowly losing colour, fading away. She saw a silhouette of a person, walking past, they turned their head and started running into the alleyway, saying something that she could not hear. The young...

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If you ever pass this house on 23 silverdores street, your sight will be mesmerized. A red checkered pattern clock hangs on a thin piece of string that stretches across the front yard from one end to the other. It just hangs there, every day, every night, every year, it just hangs like the last item to be sold at a shop. The owner never seems to give any attention to it, walks by without any acknowledgement that it's even there, the cloak is treated it is invisible. If the cloak seem to have a mind of its own, has...

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In hindsight, the solution was obvious. Of course it was. It always is. But at the time it seemed like an impossible thing, a thing that would never be solved. A thing that would haunt her and taunt her forever and ever amen.

The crossword in Mrs Grey’s daily paper may not, to others,especially perhaps her husband, have seemed like much of an importance, but to her it was everything. It was the thing that, for just an hour or so each day, made her feel clever. It made her feel like a proper human being instead of the tired...

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It was supposed to be a nice relaxing drive. We were going to my mother's house for Christmas, the presents all stacked up in the trunk and carols playing on the radio. I sat in the passenger's seat. My husband was driving. It was getting a bit late, but we hoped to reach her house by about ten. Not a lot of traffic. Nice country road. But that all changed. I had closed my eyes and was about to drift off when I heard a loud, inhuman scream. My eyes shot open and I looked at my husband's pale cheeks....

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Excerpt from personal diary, Saturday, Sept. 23, 2010:

Experiments designed to give self artificial sexual fetish involving lamps have thus far resulted in failure. First attempted to insert lamp into arbitrary orifice; however this failed due to how cumbersome the lamp in question was. Perhaps there is a non-penetrative alternative?

Excerpt from personal diary, Saturday, Sept. 24, 2010:

Attempted masturbation while entertaining thoughts of the lamp. So far unable to sexualize the object itself, and thus unable to complete experiment. Will try again with different parameters tomorrow.

Excerpt from personal diary, Saturday, Sept. 25, 2010:

The lamp wouldn't turn on....

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The sunlight pushed its way through the heavy curtains at my enormous window and I shut it out. I need to be alone, I tell myself but I know that I can never be alone for long. After a while someone is bound to come along and try to cheer me up. I might smile, might even laugh but we all know that laughter can't last forever. I force myself to peek out the window and observe the street below. A cluster of small children play on the sidewalk, laughing. The joy on their faces lights a spark in me...

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My heart was pumping. I ran down the old wooden stairs as the clock striked 3:00pm. I rushed on the computer not caring that I pushed down my grandma and she was hurt. These results were the most important thing in my life. I logged in to my computer as fast as a cheetah, But than I forgot what my password was to the skyward. The heart pumping, my brain was hurting from me trying to remember what the password was."Ahhhhhhh" I screamed grandma who was still on the flor stopped moaning and put her attention to me. " what...

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I woke up hung over, my head throbbing. It felt like mini-jackhammers were destroying my frontal lobe, something I am sure the Scotch took care of last night.

The room was unfamiliar, but I had seen it plenty of times laid out in some IKEA or Sears catalog. I was on the bed with an Oak, maybe Maple, night-stand next to it. The room smelled, not good or bad, just different from my bedroom. Clothes covered the floor in front of the closet, where I suddenly saw my pants. A desperate roll to my side brought back the mini-jackhammers.

The...

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