"Everyday has promise."
"Everyday?"
"Yes, everyday."
"Well it seems that the first day of the year has more promise then the rest."
"I suppose but I will certainly take it as a good sign that you are at leasting embracing the possibility of promise."
"I am sorry for so much, life as usual, for far too long." She looked at him then. It had been so long since she heard something deeper in his words then the surface of day to day. He didn't see her looking of course. His eyes were on the news so she turned back...
She'd always come running when I called.
But not today. The kids called me at work and said they couldn't find her, and that after she lapped a bit of water in the morning they hadn't seen her all day.
When I got home we all searched the area. I knew she couldn't have gone far - her walk was slowing and she was getting weak. She still loved the kids, and played when she could, but she was 12, after all, and most Border Collies reached the end by that age.
I found her after about 5 minutes of...
She leaned over the side of the ship, hair streaming in the cold, northerly wind. They'd been at sea for six days now, with three still ahead before they made land at Isenguard.
The heist couldn't have gone more smoothly. The Jaguar Pearls were stowed safely back in her cabin, the security tapes had been wiped and Mark had obliterated every trace of their DNA from the scene.
Mark. Where was he?
She turned to lean against the rail, squinting at the recreation deck in the dazzling, tropical sunlight. He was probably up there right now, all toned and bronzed...
The wind is picking up outside. It's unsesnoabley warm. The announcer on the television rattles off a list of counties that are under the warning. Leaves scuttle along the patio outside the window. There is no fear, just curiosity, a little confusion. People step outside to gander at the sky. The voice on the tube implores us to take cover, yet we continue to look out the windows. Thunder rumbles in the distance. People sit on the swing set, passing cigarettes and smiling. It is always calmest, right at this
Nothing made sense.
Her eyes ached - the more she studied them, the less the words made sense. The words weren't working, they weren't doing their duty, they were just shapes on the wall. They blurred out of focus - was she just tired, was it her eyes?
Or were the words willfully confusing her? Was it deliberate? A merry dance they were leading her on?
She traced them with her fingertips - that couldn't be right, they were letters carved into the stone, they couldn't shift (ink, she could accept, could flow, could shift, but these were stone words,...
The moon would never be the same again.
NASA, in a fit of proctological madness popped a cap in it's ass. It was no longer the benign pie in the sky of sappy Italian love songs.
The man, the one in the moon, was pissed.
The changes were slow to come. Not many people noticed at first that the tides were stronger and higher. The Bay of Fundy was virtually empty during low tide, and Nova Scotia completely submerged during high before anybody thought to ask what was up.
Lunacy was on the rise.
Werewolf sightings peaked.
Lunar eclipses now...
When I was young I found a baby sparrow. Fallen from his nest. Abandoned. I took him home and nurtured him. Cared for him. I named him Franklin. Day by day he grew stronger. He was soon able to fly. He'd fly about but always return. Until one day. He flew away. I rode around the neighborhood looking for him. Then I realized he was gone forever. I started looking always for a new baby sparrow. But I never found one. I am glad. I think just one baby sparrow was perfect.
How tiny. That was all she could think as she held it in her hand, how tiny it was, how tiny every feature of it was, the eyes, the scaly pro to-feathers, the beak, even the little talons, how exquisitely tiny to hold such intricate detail. She could feel the small heart fluttering through the fragile body into the palm of her hand. How tiny.
It moved slightly, shifting it's head slightly to cast a dark eye up at her. It wouldn't last long. They never did, when she found them like this. She'd tried to save the first couple...
Well, I wasn't prepared for this. Genetic engineering really is only my minor. I majored in Music Education, and do a helluva good job at it, if I do say so myself.
The genetic engineering project was supposed to be more kid friendly. A cockatoo and a persian cat, gene spliced, to for some sort of mutated mix. The math (something I'm freely admitting to be poor at) implied more of a cat's head. I got the bird head. Must have not carried the three.
Anyway.
I'm going to have to raise it now. There's no getting out of that....
This dream was better than waking. Like many others-- She was there. She looked different in every dream, talked different, had a different name; but she was the same person every time. She was an aspect of me, who I wish I could be, who I knew I never could be.
Except in the dream. While I was still the awkward, shy man I always was, in my dream I could share dinner with a woman who had all the qualities I wanted. She could talk without feeling nervous. She was ambitious, no regrets of /not/ doing something. And, of...