Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. She'd never looked in the mirror and seen what ever it was that society defined as beauty reflected back at her. She had never looked at a picture of herself and thought, "Wow" or even "Not bad".
But as she flicked through the photographs from the night before she found her breath being stolen at the gorgeous creature in front of her.
Nothing was different, not her hair, not her teeth, her eyes or her clothes. And yet, everything was different, miraculously changed, as though a fairy godmother had waved her...
Giving in wasn't an option. The first time Ted died he didn't really notice, being in a full on berserk. One of his incisors was embedded in the top of his shield. He only felt its loss after he lay beside the gnawed wood, head split by a centurion's short sword. Like most warrior souls, he didn't leave it there of course.
The second death was a spear. Ted bled out over a few days, his last fevered thought - blood poisoning - being one of confused pride he had all his own teeth 'this' time.
Ted's third demise was...
Monica Mistaikov
I stood on the old wooden bed I always slept in. There was always a window up high and I would always look up to it at noon and see the clock chime. There were so much out there waiting for me to learn. I wanted to go out there, explore the world, make friends. But I couldn't, because I can’t. Where I am from is a powerful city, Nastavbriki. This city, we have to protect it with our lives so no rebels come. But my anonymous parents dropped me to an orphanage when I was very...
The anti-grav boots were worth every penny.
Shelly had saved for weeks, mowing lawns, delivering papers, collecting coins from every cushion in the house, to earn enough hard cash to buy them. Her mother had told her not to waste her money, that they were probably just galoshes with springs on the bottom, but the girl refused to be deterred. The magazine ad had proclaimed them anti-grav, and there was a Truth in Advertising law on the books, so they must be the real deal.
And she was right.
But not in the way she thought she would be.
Instead...
She'd have preferred the electric chair, at least that one bloody moved. She could get up a good speed on that one, maybe she could get out of it, escape their sympathetic looks. It was bad enough losing the power in your legs without their condescending looks. Idiots.
Apparently it was a "power chair", but, frankly, bollocks to that. Jokingt that she was living out a death sentence was one of her few pleasures left - that terror in their eyes, the "oh god how do we respond to that" was what she was living for right now.
Actually, that...
The girl looked at the crowds of people, like a flow, massive and unbearable, pressing in on her. The car sat in front of her, a dent in it's front bumper. She looked at the red gown hanging over her shoulders and puzzled to herself. I thought this was blue.
There had to be a better place to be. A sweeter smelling place.
Come with me, the voice said.
She looked around, her dark eyes narrowing. Her nostrils twitched, sour, offended. Something made her head pull back and away. Sulfurous.
Come with me, the voice said again.
Against her better...
Iridescent, the water moved silently over her head as her toes grazed the soft sand beneath her. In an equilibrium, almost floating but almost standing, she let the water raise her arms. This was limbo.
People always said it was best to keep your feet on the ground, so to speak. When the mind wanders, ideas get lost. Was that the way it really worked, the woman wondered, exhaling and releasing small bubbles of her life-breath into the water. The bubbles traveled upward to the surface, releasing her breath for her over her head. It was true, water made you...
"Now, tell me again," said the attractive blond in the black-rimmed glasses, "why do you think you're a super villain?"
Her patient sighed. He was draped across her leather couch, one hand hanging limp over its side, grazing the lush carpet as though it was soft grass.
The therapist chewed on her pencil and waited.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" he said. "I'm a scientist. I come from a long line of super villainy, and it's up to me to keep up the family reputation." He turned on his side to gaze at her. "Have I...
I'd had so many plans, just before I went back. I was prepared to an insane degree. I'd spent days camping in the wilderness, gathering enough iron to create a goddamned magnet. I'd memorized the fundamentals of aviation, chemistry, nuclear physics. I knew all there was to know about rebuilding civilization.
And it had all slipped away, one memory after another, fading into a blur, after I'd fallen through the time vortex.
So here I am, trying to explain to some neolithic ignoramus how to make gunpowder. The most I can remember is that it requires a mixture of sulfur,...
I counted the Braille dots on the "DOWN" button for the 43rd time.
Then I counted them for the 44th time.
And the 45th time...
No longer satisfied with simply counting the dots themselves (there are always 18), I was now counting my counts, which, at least, were never the same, though always increasing.
Have you ever been stuck in an elevator? Neither have I. I am inexperienced with this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do while stuck in an elevator. I don't know what other people do when stuck in an elevator. I don't know what Jesus...