Portraits lined the hallway. No matter where you stood, it seemed like the eyes were following you, staring at you in disdain. Freddy didn't care for the effect, so he hurried his way through the hall to the sitting room.
A large statue stood in the center of the room. The white marble figure resembled a famous historical figure, but Freddy couldn't quite place just which one--perhaps Ben Franklin. Ben Franklin 1.0, to be exact. Ben Franklin 1.2 was currently going through some new, more rigorous testing because Baron Von Bonn's steambot army made short work of the original. Luckily,...
Private Morlane. Rooster. Let the regiment sleep. Gun. Trigger. Regiment sleeps.
The water was clear! 30 long years of work and finlly the whole barren wasteland could expirience an new life. we had acheived the most important feat for the rebuilding of world. now the whole world could focus on mo
I lay there, floating. On the outside, at least. On the inside, I walked quietly down a dark hallway towards a bright white light. ,y mother had always told me not to go towards the light. But I was here for a reason. My life had been falling apart for a long time. I couldn't stand it anymore. So I had jumped. As I walked, I felt the water swish around me and I gasped for air. And kept walking. Walking. Walking. The light got nearer and nearer, and I started to reconsider. Was this too final? No. I had...
She shifted slightly, adjusting her spine against the doorframe. People kept screaming at her to get out of the door way. She was too tired. She had been there too long. The people, who were screaming, had no need of the door. They had much need of her. So they screamed. She noticed that her nails were clean and bloody. She thought that she would have to dirty the nails with a towel in order to stem the flow of blood.
"Couldn't have picked a better night for it... or a better doorway."
This was the message that she had...
No, the blood stains in the carpet don't come out. Yes, I tried. Yes, I did my best. No, there's no lingering smell.
Press conference for killer. Talk shows, radio interviews, Good Morning America 3-minute-segments before commercial break. They don't throw hard question at you. They give you chance to explain yourself. They don't press further.
Smiles, genial smiles and well-trained laughs at cued moments. We get along in front of audience. He laugh at joke about face victim made before death. Well there you have it, he say to camera. Inside the mind of a true killer, he say....
She has to save them. That's her job. That's all her job's ever been. She has to sit on top of them, explode into feathers and squawks when needed, brood for days when they're stolen, make countless vows that she'll do better next time.
She likes her jokes, Mother Hen does.
Easter Bunny can steal them every time. He pleads, too, every time, of the scarcity of eggs on the planet, of how hard it is for an honest bunny to make a living nowadays, of the lack of belief in himself, the fake plastic hunts for things that were...
"Stacy, come on! Hurry up!"
I huffed as I ran behind him. "John-" pant, pant, "please, for the love of all-" pant, pant, "-that is holy. Slow down!"
He laughed, and continued to run, as though we were children still. Adults don't run. They tell other kids to stop running. And for good reason, too! It's tiring!
He stopped at the top and looked down at me, watching me walk the rest of the way. As soon as I reached his side, I frowned at his gorgeous hazle green stare.
And he smiled.
"Could kill you, ya know," I huffed....
The darn woodchuck was bothering me. He was a smart woodchuck. He had a bucket of red paint, which he was using to paint the golf course. "Ha ha ha," laughed the woodchuck. "I am painting this blade of grass right now. Watch as my paintbrush, which is laden in red paint, strokes the blade. See? It is red now. Ahahahaha!!!!!"
I was having none of it. I do not like the golf courses to be red, especially the green, which is called a green for a reason. You don't call them red or blues or yellows, do you? No....
Elaine stopped dead in her tracks. She had just fixed the bulb this morning, it couldn't already be...
The sound of the back screen door swinging stopped her heart. A wave of panic went through her and she just knew she wasn't alone anymore. But maybe they (or he, or she) had just left. Except she didn't hear any footsteps.
Her bedroom door was locked. The handle jiggled, then a voice; "Larry it's friggin' locked!" "Fuck," Joe yelled. "It fuckin' can't be locked!"
Elaine started turning around; her cell phone was in her car in the driveway.
The kitchen light...