I tried automatic writing many times, all with obvious results, my inner self responding. However, last night something weird happened. The letter began with 'Dear Santa' which was no way in my mind.
The writing wasn't even like my own. Strange 'A's. Creepy.
Sissie, my twin left the room slamming the door, locking herself into the bathroom. She was gone for hours, eventually after a lot of banging and pleading she opened it and returned to sitting on the carpet, large bathtowel over her head, rocking back and forth, humming.
She is autistic. I knew what was wrong. She was...
"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."
His eyes flickered open squinting in the unaccustomed sunlight. He started to rise but remained immobile. Panic began to set in. It was then that he noticed the girl slumped against the wall face ashen white. She glanced up at the ceiling and his eyes followed hers. He saw the skylight and his struggles became frantic. She was smiling now. "A trap. The bitch must have dosed herself up with ", he thought. those dammed odourless garlic...
Where the sun sets, and the wind blows, two girls run across the ocean, having fun with each other. The two girls live their life, thinking of nothing but themselves. They have the time of their lives until... Water blew and high tides came, separating them from having fun. They clashed in the water, half dead. Everyone had barely survived as the tsunami occured. The tsunami stopped crying whilst people swept amongst the shore. They cried in sadness, all lost and disgraced. They were seperated not even remembering a thing. Who knew bad things would happen to such close, nice...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She shielded her eyes from the flashes of light that arced across the blackened sky, her face soaked with tears, her heart pounding in her chest as the cacophony of noise rattled her skull.
In London, a family huddled together in a corner of their living room, across from the window that had blown itself out from the force of the first impact. They held between them the grandmothers crucifix, praying to their God as if he could save them.
A man stood atop the Eifel...
The Potentate surveyed his creamsicle tower cooly.
"Were my instructions not clear," he asked in the calm manner so many of his associates found so frightening. "Was the language I was speaking truly so difficult to decipher?"
Nobody spoke up at first, though everyone knew two things: the longer he went without an answer, the angrily the Potentate would get. The second fact, whoever spoke first stood a good chance of receiving the brunt of his displeasure. As was often the case, everyone opted for an intense anger spread over the whole group, then face being a direct target of...
Phons and Ramon had worked this beat for awhile, all of Phons' three years on the force. Today was as beautiful as the tourists bobbing around the stores. The two strolled the sidewalk enjoying their usual eye-candy.
Ramon spots a nice blonde, and turns to point it out to Phons, but he's looking at something in the sky. Glancing back to the blonde he notices she too is looking up. He glances up and immediately gets a face-full of glare, quickly wrenching away and furiously blinking. He smacks Phons on the belly for a moment, "Hey..."
Phons doesn't budge. Ramon...
There was nothing like getting the supplies in every month with the boys to lift everyone's spirits. Goodies, magazines, and letters abounded and everyone was excited waiting anxiously for their packages.
Sergeant Thomas was sorting through the packages and arranging them into groups to deliver when we came across a package for Lt. Roger. The Lietentant was a quiet sort that never received any sort of mail and never wrote any letters. But here before them was a nice package addressed to him that smelled of perfume and tobacco.
Thomas, thought it would be good to give the package to...
Death. As kids, we are terrified of this, but always reassure ourselves it won’t happen for a while. But for the past year and a half, reassuring myself has done nothing- I’ve already known the truth.
“She has one month.” My doctor whispers, leaning against the navy blue doorframe I know all too well.
“What do you mean, one month?” my mother questions him, matching his volume.
My father strokes her arm gently. “To live.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s been crying. And he has. He looks into the door and I immediately sit back in my chair....
Lola, Lola. What have you done?
It was a day like any other, well if you account the slow, lumbering and brain hungry, zombies. Their presence no longer shocking just another danger living the city. I suppose. Well anyway Me and My Sister Lola have been hopping form building to building, only during the days mind you. We are looking for supplies food and water mainly. Lola, misses her friends and Mom. she really miss Mom.
Anyway like I said we were looting and stuff, when this dog comes out of a door I happened to open I knew where...
On the fourth day of the invasion, the defenders opened the gates of the zoo. Let those bastards contend with lions stalking them, rhinos charging at the sound of gunfire. Make them fight in a storybook, where hawks might dive down on them, and elephants would trumpet victory for the city.
That was the idea certainly. But these were zoo animals, most born in the zoo far from any jungle, and the rest had not stalked since they were young and foolish. They yawned in the heat of the day and wondered when the man with the feed would come....