Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up. Jerome, her uncle's brother, took no notice of her. Her hands were cold and shaking. He continued eulogizing. "He was a great man, and there's no denying. We all..."

"No."

That got his attention. All of them, really. She clasped her hands together tightly, willing her voice to be steady. Jerome raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you have something you wanted to say, Candace? Why don't you come on up here and say it?"

She swallowed, hard. The idea of...

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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...

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The gate closed behind them. That was the last time they would see the outside world for a long time. They had to make a new life for themselves. It would be limited, of course, but you can get used to anything if you have to. Well, it's either that or give up. Josie asked her mother, 'Why are they doing this?' Her mother didn't know the answer. It was just as well. That knowledge would have been enough to turn her very soul black. It would never be suitable for an 8 year old child to hear. They went...

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They crouched to peer beneath the stairs. They were surprised by how small it was -- "I don't even think an adult could fit in there," he said.

"Sure, if it was an adult midget," she said.

"How big of a midget?" he said.

"We're not really going to discuss the relative sizes of midgets, are we?" she said, turning to look at him for the first time since they found the passageway.

"I think dwarf is the preferred nomenclature anyway," he said with a tired air, pushing the hair out of his eyes. His glasses had slid down his...

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Holographic women are all the rage. Easier than humans to be around. No talking back or gorging on chocolates to ruin their figures.

Only costs a thousand a minute, for a rich guy like me it's nothing. Won't be long before the price will be cheap so everyone will have them.

Dating agencies will be redundant as everyone will have their own virtual mate, eager to please. With the headgear it feels like you are with a real live woman.

Today I had a shock. Mirabelle somehow changed into a man, mistake in the software I guess, but until much...

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"I feel boxed in," she said.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, not quite understanding.

"Well, the basic thing is this: the image is quite boring, and the color scheme is obnoxious, a weird, misguided attempt at the painterly surrealism that Richard Linklater's Waking Life first presented in film. Add to that two gigantic butterflies, and the whole thing just falls apart. But despite the silliness of the painting, however, there's really no room for absurdity. Characters can't wave pistols around or smoke cigars or get hit in the forehead with boards. I'm boxed in. I have nowhere to go. It's too...

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In the beginning was the word, and the word was drummed in to Mel from an early age.

An interest in science made her realise that it is good to question what you are taught is a fact.

Later in life, experiences crossed her path like black tar; the type of visitors that you did not want to call, the events that you would not wish on anyone else. Instead of speaking to an invisible deity, she calmed herself by looking around her world.

Staring out to sea, was the most calming solution of all. Yet not available in a...

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Goodnight...read the glowing sign above my bedroom door.

I shoveled myself further under the covers and sat with my flashlight, curled in my tiny igloo, my fortress of solitude, catching up on the secret stash of comics that I had hidden in the back of my closet.

I'd read sometimes until the flashlight flickered, in need of more juice from the cheap batteries I'd buy at the store with leftover lunch money. I'd fall asleep squinting my eyes so tight that I couldn't make out shapes on a page, and I'd wake up early to wash the sweaty inkstains from...

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She was the most delicate girl in town - pale skin stretched tight over a skeletal face, hair the colour of fresh milk, body tall and angular. Her eyes were of the softest blue, her cheeks flushed pastel pink, her lips like an English rose. Fragile, barely there, more ghost than anything real: that's what people said about her, that's what they thought when they passed her in the street. But as delicate as she was, as insubstantial, there was something very real and present in the way that she held herself and in the manner of her walk. One...

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You can count me out.

You can count me out.

How many times do I have to say it? Count me out of your scheme. I have no desire for riches, fame, or even immortality. Just life.

That's all I want. Just to live my life. My peaceful, ordinary life. And the only way I can do that is for you to count me out of this.

I wish you'd make the same choice, but as things stand, you had a good life.

Well, a decent life.

Oh, who am I kidding? When you meet Beelzebub, try not to give...

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