I, Emily Agha just received my acceptance to UNSW and flowers from my beloved fiancee. Everything was going well. My fiancee and her where driving home until suddenly Josh went to fast. He may have been drunk. One little mistake can turn into a big one. "I'll always remember you Josh". I don't remember much from that night, all I remember is the sound of sirens, a few heartbeats and Josh's voice telling me he was sorry. His last words were "find someone, please." I'm thirty now and am still single. I still have all his bits and bobs that...

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The pistol was cocked, ready to go. “Your turn” she said, as my hands trembled in fear. Why was I here? Who was she? So many questions left without an answer. I swallowed, breaking the piercing silence. She laughed. “First time playing?” she asked smugly, already knowing the answer. I stayed quiet. I could barely hold it. A beautiful 1873 Frisco Revolver, 6 chambers, yet somehow, that didn’t lighten my mood. I wrapped my hand around the Pearl style grip hoping for the best. It felt cool in my hands. I looked at her, she smirked.
That was the last...

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The daring were punished.

It seemed almost contradictory, but that was how They wanted it. Ever since the capital-t-They had taken over it, a systematic reduction of risk-taking had been put into place, until the daring were trained not to dare, the mavericks removed and replaced with the mundane.

My sister Joan had wanted to be a baker. You would think that was sufficiently uninteresting for Them, but you'd be wrong - I have no idea how They found out, but after a few bottles of wine at my house, she told me her dream of opening her own bakery....

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When we reached the top, we were so dizzy from the thin air we'd forgotten why we had to climb and headed back down the mountain.

At the bottom, clear-headed, we remembered why we had to climb and headed back up the mountain.

This continued for the rest of our lives.

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In 1921, he flew from the Great Rift Valley. No one believed him, of course. They knew a man could not simply spread his wings and fly. Because a man had no wings, and that was really the point of it. But he insisted he had done it. “Just because no one saw me,” he said, stretching his arms up to the sky, “Does not mean it didn’t happen.”

No one was convinced.

“I flew,” he continued, “From one side of the rift to the other. Over the canyon. I soared above the ground and floated in the sky.” He...

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Through the veil she was almost as pretty as I'd wished she would have been the first time we met for real, in real life, in person on the street. The love of my life.
I remembered that in certain photographs she had this quality, like an angel or maybe just someone who thought they were one, so strung out they could touch the sky. She wasn't that pretty, no pixie dust queen, just another girl who liked to make faces. But I think I love her.
You hope that, and I hoped that, the love of my life--because that's...

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When he said he'd take me far away, to a world I'd never seen, I had expected more than this.

"You're just seeing the scaffolding."

"What is there that isn't scaffolding? It's...there's nothing else there. It's hollow. It's broken."

He covered my eyes with his hands, pointed me in a direction and hissed "walk" in my ear.

I had presumed this was going to be a date. Clearly I was incorrect.

I could feel the ground beneath my feet alter, and suddenly everything felt different - I was enclosed, and yet not enclosed at all (there was light spilling in,...

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The floorboard creaked. The house came alive and... walked.

It did not walk as people walk, as things designed to move would move. No, a house is not meant to ambulate, not meant to be in a place different from the place it had always been. That was the first trial, overcoming years of inactivity, millenia of tradition.

But the house was determined to leave its lot, after its lot in life had fallen. All around it, other houses had fallen, eaten away by neglect, time, disuse. And while this house had not had resident or human inhabitant for far...

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Potatoes.

That's all the six year old girl would eat. And it seemed that no matter what else I tried to serve her, potatoes was it. She wouldn't try anything else. Wouldn't look at anything else. All she ever wanted? Potatoes.

"Honey, what are we supposed to do?" I sighed, sliding into bed that night. "We went out to the Olive Garden. And she asked for potatoes!"

My husband chuckled a little. "Well, look on the bright side: at least it's a vegetable she wants. Could be worse."

"This is bad enough! No protein! No grain! Heck, even sugar would...

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There was blood on my pillow.

My nose was dry. I hadn't bit my cheek. I hadn't somehow lost a tooth. A quick examination of my skull told me that it remained intact.

Oh, duh, I have DNA-Vision. I forget sometimes.

I scanned the blood on my pillow. It wasn't mine.

So where had it come from?

"Ah ha! It was me!" yelled someone from the foot of my bed.

It was my arch-nemesis, The Hemophiliac. Of course!

"What have you done?!" I roared.

"I snuck into your bedroom last night and bled on your pillow! But don't worry; I...

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