She was a regular victim, the kind of person who flinched when she heard a loud noise, ducked when she passed beneath an airborne bird, stepped sideways in order to avoid each time she happened to pass by a pedestrian, puddle or crack. She looked for and expected (and here I'm talking about the worst) in everything. Forget good and better, forget fortuitous, forget fate being in your favour and good fortune... As far as she was concerned, it was always cloudy outside and it rained constantly. In her model of the world life was hard, living was tough, and...
This sludgy finger of water curling around the land. A mucky smile that hides whatever you slip inside of it. The lake never tells.
So I'm pleased you chose this place to meet, my dear. You have solved a riddle I've kept hidden behind my own smile. Come closer for a moment so I can see your face in the moon. Let's walk down to the water's edge and peer deep into eternity.
I didn't want to meet you tonight. My plan was as unsettled as a river. But you pinched it off into something definable, and I feel calmer...
The white sedan zipped down the city streets, passing cars frantically, horn honking. Inside, Mark Strickland sat behind the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it. "You're gonna get us killed before we ever get there," Mary, Mark's wife, said calmly as she reached out and gently held Mark's hand, making him ease up on the hand control which regulated the gas pedal on the car. Her other hand rested lightly on her protruding stomach.
"Sorry," Mark said as he slowed the vehicle down. "I'm just anxious." His eyes lit up as he saw the hospital sign and quickly...
I don't know how, but she did.
Can't she tell I tried? I really did, no matter what she screams, and no matter how many things she flings at me, or how hard she throws her punches.
My parents say I'm going to hell for what I am, that I'm unnatural and wrong. But how can something so beautiful and pure, be so wrong?
I have to go away tomorrow, they're sending me to some camp to 'fix' me. To make me better or something. Maybe this is for the best...
Day one: It's nice here, I guess. My bunkmate...
It's always late at night that it hits you. Just as you're about to go to sleep, you're about to actually give in to the quilt, to the mattress, and the darkness, your mind is going to release, and then -
Sometimes it's a welcome thought. Sometimes it's useful, helps you get things finished in time, or it's a great idea you need to put down. Sometimes.
Rarely.
Sometimes it's mostly neutral, and it's just getting rid of it that counts.
Sometimes.
Most of the time, though? It's one of those haunting thoughts. One of the ones you don't know...
The conversation lasted two words: REDACTED REDACTED
[Security clearance confirmed]
KKTnI Event 21/12 Exec Summ
Months of supervision of the three alien ambassadors and chaperoning the three chosen human representatives of the UN Science contingent had led to this final one ended discussion. Tom Savage, DoO, predicts we will never meet others from the mothership.
Something that Amy WITHHELD (the NASA astronaut in training, there to the relief of the US) Darren WITHHELD (Irish poet who'd not cut his hair for 30+ years) or WITHHELD Xing (Japanese ex-military) had said, done or shown the three inseparable E.T.s had resulted in...
crash
reality shimmers
wave after wave
darkness enfolding
sleep
"You're here because someone recommended you to me. Someone who passed the test. Someone who promised you that you'd be a better financial trader."
The Banker nodded. "Peter. Pete sugg…"
"No names. No pack drill. Only one condition. If…"
"When… When, surely?"
"If… you pass the test, you have to recommend someone to go after you. Someone you think needs to be a better banker. And you DON'T tell them about the test."
"Agreed."
"Ok then. I'd hate to have to kill you." I smiled conspiratorially.
"During the day this park is full of dog walkers. And dogs. And shit."...
She'd have preferred the electric chair. She'd have preferred anything really, hanging, lethal injection, even one of those weird medieval punishments like hang, draw and quartering. Anything to get her out of this tedium.
The irony was that she'd chosen this. Chosen to run, the alternative being prison or worse. But wasn't she already in prison? Stuck in this dark, damp room, determined to live out the rest of her days without ever seeing the sun. Actually, it was probably worse than prison. At least in prison there were other prisoners to talk to. Here the only human contact she...
From the day the museum opened, the mammoth was the first thing every visitor saw. How could they miss it? It towered over the entrance when they came inside, rain or shine, its trunk high above their heads as though ready to trumpet. At least they assumed she would trumpet, but no one really knew or cared.
Designed to model a beast that lived ages ago, the poor thing stood and gathered dust on its bits that were too high for the cleaning staff to reach. So the witch, a neo-pagan from San Fran, took pity on the poor beast....