I'm with stupid. The boy I was standing next to is an idiot. He continuously talked to me about whales, telling me how big they can grow to and what their teeth are made of. Why was I stuck with him? I could have been stuck on an island with anyone else, but nope.
He decided to swim for a bit, not thinking about the shark infested waters. I let him go without realising what he was doing. I was daydreaming of being home and eating blueberry pancakes. I soon was snapped out of my world and back into reality...
Sunday was when we went. Dad wanted to leave on Sunday so we could avoid the McDonald family, who spent every Sunday molting on the front lawn. Last year, Mr. McDonald's head fell off. He grew another one the next day. Only now his hair was green and he could shoot laser beams out of his eyes. Also, he shat turnips. But enough of that.
We climbed into the station wagon and turned right onto Fallinott Street. The street was named after Lucas Fallinott, who lived in Detroit. He invented the toothbrush in 1762.
As we drove, we saw Mr....
Marvin lunged towards the stand upon which sat an old, analog phone. He almost made it. Melinda tackled him from behind and they fell, hard, onto the wood floor. The phone kept ringing, its strident cry begging someone to answer. Marvin kicked back at Melinda but she evaded his foot and bit his ankle. Marvin howled and turned back to try and disentangle his leg from her grasp. As soon as he turned, Melinda sprang up from the floor and jumped towards the phone, kicking Marvin in the head as she passed. His head hit the floor with a dull...
When he went to the pet store Mark Anderson thought it was going to be just another day. He was going to pick out the goldfish for his nephew's birthday and head on his way. Boy was he ever wrong.
It started as soon as he walked in, the cashier was giving him a very funny look that Mark couldn't exactly place. The pets were even weirder. They all looked as though they'd been through hell and back, but Mark, startled as he was, kept looking for that goldfish. If only he'd left then.
He got to the aquarium section...
It would be a long walk. To no where. Ending some where. A where long off. Tulle of mist. Footage of stage. A wide glow of white pixels condensing to green. Corridors of sparkling black. A long walk but he took it.
The visitor asked, "Can you write a story without a prompt?"
"I don't know," said the writer. "I've never tried."
"Really? You mean all those stories you wrote arose from something you'd seen or heard?"
"Or something I'd read. Tasted. Felt. Wondered about."
"And the novels? The poems? That terrible album you wrote and recorded?"
The writer smiled. "Yes, all of them. I need to have something to start from, some germ of a concept that I can build on. It's like the way a jazz musician riffs off a set theme. They start with what they have and make...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. Angela wasn't your typical wallflower. Every so often someone would, for a brief moment, catch a glimpse of another world in her twinkling eye, or see into the hidden realms in the cornered smile of her lip.
Then either she or they would notice the unexpected revelation and it would vanish from sight and thought, and Angela would be plain old Angie. Small, quiet, of no consequence.
Of course that's not how she saw things, if "saw" was the right word. What Angela perceived, every day in fact, for everyone she...
It was enjoyable, this feeling. And so unaccustomed! He had come to a place in his life where so little really made him happy anymore. Leaving the store, though, despite the fact that it was a cloudy, cool day, he felt sunny on the inside. He had bought a new shirt, and he was wearing it - he decided to put it on right away, before he had even left the store. It was green - but a certain shade of green that he didn't see very often. It was his favorite color, and it had called out to him....
The sword hilt slipped from his hand as he staggered back. Leather-palmed gauntlets slick with blood, his own and that of dozens of men, could yet have gripped, had his hands the strength for it.
In the steaming corpse at his feet, the blade angled outward, once shining and ceremonial, now chipped and ruined by the armor and bone it had overcome. It had belonged to his father, to his grandfather, and to a king before that; when this was over, he thought, it would hang on his wall and never again leave his sight.
This was the last of...
The city was empty. That was the only remarkable thing about it. Its streets weren't paved with gold, it's shops sold the usual junk, it had poor districts and upper class suburbs.
The interesting thing was, the streets were empty, the shops had no employees and no customers and it's housing housed nothing. No one was there.
Well... there was one person there, there must have been, or how else could I be telling you this right now? Huh? Didn't think of that did you?
oh... right... CCTV... yeah, good point... sorry.