"Lifetime Warranty - Satisfaction Guaranteed" the adverts had promised. "No one has ever returned a loveBot 7000 in the history of the company."
He flicked through the manual. Ah there it was: "If you are genuinely unhappy call THIS toll-free number…"
After keying in a few tones - he hated automated call centres - he had been put on hold by what he assumed to be a clever computer, but was in fact a rather stupid one.
The loveBot sat up, watching him lovingly, with her 'come to bed' eyes. It had entranced him at first. That, compliance, and...
The large shape of the medical building loomed on the horizon. Vic and I were survivors of a plague tring to get a vaccine. We had been traveling for so long and this was our last chance of hope.
" do you see it?!?" He yelled joyfully.
I smiled. We were so far off and he was so sick I didn't know if he would make it
"Well, Vic how about you take a rest" I said while sitting down on a broken city curb. He walked over from the ruins of the Rise Records building-which used to be one...
Leaves golden and red. A New York fall is among us. Chill to the air and inevitably the snow will be coming soon. Rushing to stores for turkey and stuffing, then rushing to the store for last minute gifts for loved ones. The red and gold leaves change to red and gold Christmas ornaments. The colors of fall and the colors of winter.
Holidays in New York are unlike any other anywhere. Snow blowing, chilly air, hustling, bustling, rushing, racing. Decorating for Christmas on Thanksgiving night, playing music, eating leftover turkey while baking cookies. The movie 'Elf' on in the...
The explosion knocked her off her feet and sent a ringing through her ears. She felt the world going black.
When she came to, she got up and looked around. the bathroom was in shambles. the spotted mirrors were shattered all around her on the floor. one of the stall doors had been blown off. She rose to her feet, brushed herself off, and started through the halls, looking for her friends. She walked through the ruins of her school for nearly an hour, finding nothing but the dead. She heard footsteps and ran for the source. She ran smack...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It was not that she was frightened - no, fear was something she found rather useless - but because she knew with an unshakeable certainty that if she wandered onto the street, she would be eaten by a vampire.
The house beyond the doorway was no better, on account of there being a ghost lurking inside, the type that would drip ectoplasm on her most horribly before devouring her soul.
This girl, then, was at an impasse. She could neither proceed nor retreat. Go out, the...
Twist. Twist your t-shirt to ring out the blood and water. Shake. Shake your head again and again. It's over. It's gone now.
Your palm feels cold against your forehead, but the blood is hot. Hot and wet and it feels funny because there's no pain, only heat. And you can see but its not the same somehow, like when you look away from staring at the lightbulb and shapes dance around you.
I hear pounding. Like drums. Hammering a distant rhythm but wait... no. It's in my head. It really is. Blood. Pounding, marching through each stressed canal like...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
After a carefully judged amount of time she stood up and retied the bow at her waist.
"Sure, you stood me up at prom, Adam," she said, "but THIS is for calling my dissertation 'feeble-minded and a stunning waste of recycled pulp' in front of my advisor."
She retrieved her bike and stuck a hardbound volume titled "AN OPTIMIZED PROGRAMMABLE BINARY ARCHITECTURE FOR A SCALABLE DIGITAL THEOREM ITERATOR" into the handlebar basket.
Then, whistling, she hiked up her skirts, straddled the seat, and biked off into...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty.
Sure, there were lots of positive adjectives she would have included in a description of herself. Clever, athletic, determined, sensitive, ambitious, caring, discerning, admirable.
Ok, maybe "admirable" was stretching things a bit.
But pretty? That was a word for the popular girl in high school, with the childish voice and the two-expression face: desirous and desirable; I want THAT and you want ME!
Pretty was the compliment of an unimaginative father, the manipulative tool of a mother living vicariously.
It wasn't something she had ever felt the need to apply to...
The chocolate scoop was all she wanted. However, the lanky boy behind the counter of Baskin Robbin's wanted to give his number away as well. In any other sinaro Jenny would have jumped at this opportunity, but the boy with the greasy hair, fuzzy eyebrows and a horrible wink did not please her. The boy still stood with her cone in his hand. Now he was getting irratating.
"Hum, thank you," Jenny tried reaching for the cone as a huge hint. He didn't take it.
"Do you have any plans for Friday night?" Oh boy. He was so clumsy with...
Jail. Only saw my dad once a month, too far to travel. He used to tell me funny stories, keep his mind off the grim reality of life inside. Never gave me a chance, either, to relate how the family were doing, what they felt about losing him.
My mind travelled, not really listening to him. Noticing the regulars at other tables. The fat woman with red hair, always in blue sweats with white stripes down the sides, green laced trainers. Talking non stop to the thin man with the hollowed pale cheeks and ginger hair combed over his balding...