"I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead."
At least I assumed so otherwise they never would have activated my Stored Intelligence Module.
Dad had been the brains so when he died I had been all too happy to sell out to Graftech. I had paid for the deluxe package and knew that when I died I would be downloaded into my custom android body.
But then had come the stock-market crash of 2241 and all that had changed. I lost virtually everything and now...
They were trapped for seven days. Aleena tried to hold back the tears as it had been seven days since she had seen the wolf- warrior Felan being taken away by Balor. She felt that she had let everyone down: the people who had brought her up as their own. She wondered where they were; if they were still trapped in the cage that she had tried to rescue them from when she and Felan had been caught. She wished she could see them one more time, even if it was to say sorry for bringing them into this. They...
Peasants. They wouldn't understand. Or perhaps couldn't. Yes. I like that. Their brains too small to grasp the magnitude of this installation.
My art has always... eluded those without intellect.
For example, to the untrained eye and mind, my first installation looked like a series of bricks, forming a wall. If you didn't notice the mortar, it looked just like that. A wall. "Oh, hey, is this the wall guy?" That's how the peons remembered me. The wall guy.
My next installation wasn't much better. Televisions playing to televisions, broadcasting video of televisions. This was before Facebook, even. Don't tell...
i start my journey very hard from 2010 when i come to London i done my level-4 diploma i give my three papers out of of 5 and after that i get my certification. i finished in two years and after i get admission in undergraduate which is BA hons business management and it is totally about 3 years and nearly finished in June 2015 this is a time which is very though,hard and i really enjoys that all of my journey
The farmer had just left, when the old woman paused scooping up the silver to ponder on his telling. "Blue eyes? Could have sworn they were brown."
She shrugged and lifted a loose board to join the fee with treasured cousins beneath the stair. A knock at the door left her breathless in the hurry to conceal her hoard.
"Who… who is it?" she wheezed. Rather than answer, the caller entered quickly and fell behind the door.
"It's about the eye drops." whispered the same maid as had visited before. "I'd put them in when the Mistress startled me. I...
Slowly it built, piece by piece. The atoms of its essence compiling line after line, upwards and outwards, exploding into space and time. The building of matter was not easy, but in a sense it was simple. All of it part of a natural system, as light and effortless as the wind around it. Should an ant ever wonder at the workings of its colony, or more likely would it continue on with its pattern. As the structure came together slowly, so did other things. More complicated pieces, wonders ontop of wonders. The chains of DNA and ribonucleotides weaving synonymously...
"I know what you're after," growled the doctor, gripping her clipboard like it bestowed her the authority of the Pope with his Holy Bible. "All of a sudden it's 'oh, my back aches!', 'Doc, I've got migraines!'
"Migraines. Ha," she sneered. "And you!"-- Possessed white finger shivering in the direction of the wrinkled face before her -- "You think CANCER will get you your hands on that stuff? You're nothing but a common criminal. A druggee. Shame."
I yanked Grandma out of the chair. We'll seek her medical marijuan
"One scoop chocolate, one scoop..." the girl giggled as she plopped the ice cream into the bowl. "Two scoops chocolate, two scoops." Again, she filled the bowl. She grabbed the bowl and her spoon and weaved drunkenly toward the couch, flopping down on it with sigh. Grabbing the clicker, she turned on her movie - Breakfast at Tiffany's - and began to dive into the dessert.
"What's wrong babygirl?" Clara looked up to see her Dad walk into the room. She continued eating, ignoring him as he sat down beside her. "Come on, you can tell your old man."
"Nope,"...
I looked at the passport, and then back up at the woman standing in front of me.
"Are you serious?" I asked, a puzzled look on my face.
She looked sad.
"What is to be funny?" she said, her broken English somehow endearing.
"I don't know how they do things in..." I turned her passport over, and looked at the country name listed. It took up three lines, and many of the letters just looked like squiggles to me. "...your home country, but over here we do things differently."
"Is me!" she smiled, and I felt my tough exterior melting...
"So you're saying you didn't see Willie Mason leaving the store Friday night?" PI Dot Post eyed the man sitting in her passenger seat.
"I see no man, no ma'am. Course you know dat."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I see someone leave that store, 'bout 11:45, I reckon, but weren't no Willie Mason. Nah, dis person got curly red hair an' wear army boots."
Dot glanced down at her own foot attire, her hand reaching uncertainly for her auburn curls.
"Aye, I see you, detective lady." He grinned maliciously. "I see you wit' de blood on your hands."
Well,...