I read the note that proves nothing except by its very existence.
Details.
I caught the thrill in your eye when the first tear fell.
Details.
I could never report you but nine out of ten questions, I answered correctly.
Details.
You're right, I suppose, that you never hit me.
Details.
Broke your pinkie moving a couch, eh? Left because she was a bitch? It always goes the same but it's never, ever your fault?
Details, details, details.
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...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. That was really the least of his problems. It meant the electricity had finally been turned off. So had the water, the cable, and the gas. At least they had waited until the spring. It was warm enough to not risk freezing that night.
Jacob wondered through his house, filled with useless possessions. He touched the television and the fridge as he walked by them, exiting the house and into the beautiful April morning.
The birds were chirping and a steady drone of cars racing down the highway filled his ears. He took a deep...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Andrew wasn't sure whether the power had gone out, or whether it was just the bulb -- these silly bulbs were always coming from the closet and going into the trashcan -- but he flicked the switch back in the off position and headed for the hallway. Rounding the corner out of the closet, he could see no light under the crack at the base of the door.
"Goddamn," he thought aloud, and thundered down two flights of steps to the basement, where his lighter illuminated the breaker panel. None of the switches were tripped,...
Elle courait dans le couloir comme le matin les joggers courent le long de la piste cyclable. C'était son entrainement quotidien. A défaut de joli chemin en plein air, le corridor était son stade. Et elle était rémunérée pour courir. Non pas pour faire la gloire de la Chine aux JO, non, mais pour faire circuler l'air dans cet immeuble-ville. Les mouvement d'air provoqué par ses déplacements assuraient en partie la ventilation de l'habitation. Elle fait partie cette génération remise au goût moderne des enfants des mines.
Une fois son jogging d'une heure effectué, elle pouvait vaquer à ses occupations...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding and his clothes soaking wet. The boy closed the door behind him and pressed his back against it as strands of damp blond hair stuck to his forehead. He strained to listen for sounds on the other side of the door while the blood pounded through his ears and drops of rain mixed with sweat trickled down his face.
His hand went swiftly into his shirt and smoothly pulled out the leather packet. A sly smile spread slowly accross his face as he felt the cool, smooth surface of the leather...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It wasn't a normal doorway because when I say doorway you think of things like wood and brass nobs and, possibly, hinges.
This had none of those.
And it was hardly a red gown, because you are likely thinking of something you'd take to a ball, or if you're the really twisted sort, and I can tell you are, there's an image of a piece of clothing given out to a somewhat disturbing institution, or asylum, for those less inclined to modern verbiage or intent on...
she was tired. she was cold. she was a ninja and she was hungry. hungry for revenge. they were out there she just had to find them. the ninja girl gather herself and left the doorway. time for payback. out in the streets, people stared at the ninja girl. she ignored them and walked right passed the throngs of people. weapons must be located for ninja zombies wouldn't die on their own.
after weapon collection it was time for zombie hunting.
remember to cut off the head first this time she reminded herself. there are no points for style when...
I stare up into the sky, watching all the birds fly by.
Someday I'm gonna fly too.
My balloons float, why can't I?
I'm just a girl, I'm not special like you.
You flew and I want to fly after.
Not yet, but someday.
My head sighs but my heart beats faster.
I'll find a way.
It wasn't anything that could be helped. I had to go, so I went. Just before I reached the door, I managed to glance through the front window and saw my mother and Mrs. West arguing. I don't know what they were arguing about, but I knew for certain that one of them had the box, and also that both of them wanted it.
I wanted it it too, of course, and had already made up my mind that I would not be leaving this hick town until I had it. As the word spread day by day, my odds...