Safura was stalking her victim. Through the cobbled streets, around the market barrows, past the gates of the jail and under the washing lines strung between the slum buildings of the poor. The bones of an ox; she already had these. The teeth of a hound; yes, these too. Now all she needed was a few drops of blood taken directly from the heart of an innocent child.
The little girl stopped to buy an apple at a stall. Safura waited in the shadows behind. Jane, the stall holder, gave the child a rosy fruit and smiled at her.
"It's...
"Looking at things changes us so it is impossible to look at anything the same way twice," said Foley.
I did a double take and looked at him again. He had changed: something was sprouting from the top of his head and his eyelids appeared to be melting.
"Is this me or you this time?" I asked him.
He said nothing, but gestured upwards, extending a single finger to the sky above our heads. There was the moon, a milky smudge behind the racing clouds. Suddenly it came into full view and it had changed, too. The moon would never...
I am still half dreaming as I open my eyes against the night. The alarm hasn't gone off yet, shaking me awake with its awful, soul grating shriek, and it is not yet morning. I glance at the slime green display on the clock - 2.18am. Not good. Something has disturbed my sleep at this usually, thankfully, unknown hour and I just hope that I can ignore it and drift back down into my rest.
I try, but there is a sound, or some movement, or maybe it's both things, and my eyes are open again even though I wish...
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...
Giving in wasn't an option.
He/She
hadnt considered the consequences of the experiment. Quantum Flux theory was such a new area, although
he'd always /she'd never
been interested in it
ever since he / when she
was a child
Or maybe/ but actually
it was later,
much later that
he'd / she'd
come to the field. Now the latest test apparatus had performed
well he / strangely she
had begun to have doubts.
Maybe it was the results or maybe
he was tired / she was overreacting
but
hed / she'd
noticed strange things happening. A sense of deja vu? Something wasn't right. Like...
When it started growing, it really started growing. Guisseppe spotted it one morning as he rolled his fruit cart into the market, a strange, brilliantly green shoot pushing its way up through the cobblestones, defiantly pointing towards the sky. The next morning it had doubled in size. Guisseppe had tried to pull it up, but it stubbornly clung to ground, remaining entrenched in the stones at the edge of the market.
Over the next several days, it shot up several stories, its thick green trunk bursting through the ground, its flat broad leaves opening and gathering in the sun. No...
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
"Why?" She replied.
"Just do it," he said. Both of his arms were held out, his delicate fingers rigid, there was a blue tinge descending on his normally raspberry red lips.
"Just tell me, why," she repeated. She held it gently in her hands, loose fingers, loose wrists, around waist level. She held it as if it held even less importance to her than the stock she put upon his commands.
"Why can't you just do something because I've said so?" he said, and the chill in blood became...
Gradually. Ever so gradually, he noticed her work routine. She'd come into the shop below the CCTV camera that gave him his vantage point. She'd stop, check her skirt, then turn and wave. Wave straight at him, it seemed.
Once when he spilt his coffee he swore she looked up, about to greet the camera (or him?) and then the smile vanished. As if she had seen what had happened and was sorry for his stained pants.
In trawling through the back footage, looking for a pattern. Something to identify who had planted the device that had wrecked half the...
The idea that bad luck happens when a black cat crosses your path is completely ridiculous. Maybe if the creature trips you up while you walk, but certainly not in any superstitious way. There are no gods or demons that control our destiny, and carrying a packet of salt to throw over your shoulder as a ward against bad luck is absurd.
Yes, yes, that kitten is adorable. No, I don't want to pet her.
However, didn't we pass a trashcan back there? I did take too many salt packets for my fries. I'll just toss out the extras.
Twist. Turn. Dip. Sweep. All at once, the winds around the ship changed, shifting from a violent storm to a soft breeze. The black plumage of his Tengu Fan remained stock straight, even with the skilled hand moving it with jarring grace to manipulate the winds around them. They crew had all seen the man at work at least once before, but always it was a sight of awe. Not many on the high seas could willingly sail through a tempest and come out of it completely unscathed.
After the tribulation had passed, and the skies parted above into clear...