I do all sorts of things. Mostly badly. Mostly better than others. I tell stories. Occasionally, I lie.
Twist. Turn. Dart Jump. I will wait for you. Wait for you to tire. Because you will drag me and my little boat all the way to Heaven before I let go this line. Soaked with salt and sweat and blood from my stinging palm.
And we dance, you and I, like sweet Rosa, mother of my starving daughter Consuelo. And you will drag me to Heaven before I let go. My harpoon is waiting like the hunger of my child for that first taste of blood. And though it cuts my hand, I will not let you go. Not...
Justin was just a regular guy before I discovered him. Sure, he'd played Chronoball before. I'd even seen him do quite well for an amateur, when I checked my notes later. But that fight in the bar was what got him noticed. He's on more Creds than several small planets' GDPs now; I get 20% of course.
When Jack, who'd always had it in for him since High School, threw the first punch in the Snug, Justin hadn't flinched. He'd thrown the Chronoball, which had been resting on the bartop, over Jack's head. Contact with the far wall activated the...
Midnight on the Roof. That's where he'll be. I know Santa Claus is real. I know that because he's my Dad.
It was small things at first. I made a list:
1) A wistful smile on Mum's lips each Christmas Eve.
2) The way she hummed "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus" without noticing.
3) The fact we ALWAYS put out cookies and beer for him before Christmas Day. And a carrot for Rudolf.
4) My last real memory of him dressed in his large red gown and hat with white fur trim telling Mum he had to go. His...
The conversation lasted two words: REDACTED REDACTED
[Security clearance confirmed]
KKTnI Event 21/12 Exec Summ
Months of supervision of the three alien ambassadors and chaperoning the three chosen human representatives of the UN Science contingent had led to this final one ended discussion. Tom Savage, DoO, predicts we will never meet others from the mothership.
Something that Amy WITHHELD (the NASA astronaut in training, there to the relief of the US) Darren WITHHELD (Irish poet who'd not cut his hair for 30+ years) or WITHHELD Xing (Japanese ex-military) had said, done or shown the three inseparable E.T.s had resulted in...
Midnight on the roof. lt was always midnight up there. Something about a previous tennant of the penthouse, and some demigod battle to save the Earth (again). So, the inhabitant of 63B was quite unusual, due to the fact that she was blissfully unaware that none of the other inhabitants were in any way human. It quite endeared her to them, this special lady in her unspecialness. She even managed to use Mjolnir (Thor,s Hammer) to hang a picture one day, politely requesting it of him when he came to visit Loki, who was imprisoned on the fourth floor.
The dapper man picked up a penny. Having stopped, he was hit by an unsuspecting driver who failed to see him get skewered by the starting handle from the high cab of the grocer's van. At first I smiled for having placed the coin, specially bought at auction 68 years from now. And then… absolutely nothing happened.
When SciFi authors tell you of the Grandfather Paradox, don't believe a bloody word. I'd spent a fortune, and most of my adult life pushing the boundaries of Quantum Symmetry, SuperStrings and a host of other areas of Science and Technology. All for...
Enigami rehtona dlrow erehw a tcefrep rorrim em si gnipyt na lacitnedi yrots. Rehtien ylurt erawa fo eht rehto, tub gnitcepsus taht srehwemoe a degnagleppor
pesuas wehn he deos. Lokos oevr his shoulder, smiles, and returns to type. Imagine the two in perfect unknowing symmetry, reaching a finger to press a key to flash the last word on the
SCREEN | NEERCS
I'm not being aggressive.
NO, I'm NOT!
I am NOT shouting.
I'm perfectly Ok. O… K…
No, it's not…
Look. I'm fine, Oh…Kay! It's all good. Absolutely great.
Best ever. Brilliant. Bendi (bloody) gedig!
No, I'm not swearing now. That's Welsh.
No not the middle.
Yes, I know 'bloody' is a swear word. Oh God!
I am really, Really, REALLY Ok.
Yes , really.
Yes, he was. I know that now
Ok… maybe I'm not…
Giving in wasn't an option. She - he'd not had time to ask her name - had wept, pleaded, then finally agreed. Shuddering, the way he'd imagined a suicide would cutting his own wrist, she'd - Hell, he should ask her name at least - placed the unpinned grenades one at a time behind his back.
The release levers successfully pinned between spine and the plastic that had separated driver from passengers, he felt their edges anew as he extended his arms to push against the bus's folding doors.
"Good girl. Get upstairs. When it's safe. When they're all gone....
"Wait, so he hit you?" the young adventurer asked, sliding another drink across the worn tabletop, hoping to lubricate my throat, if not my imagination.
"That's right. A real, genuine Djinn…"
He interrupted me "…that's a genie, right?"
"Yes, a… er… genie. You know, from an old oil lamp, yes. Very good young man."
I took a sip from the proffered whiskey
"So, what did you say to him? Why was he so angry?"
"Well, he told me 'Before you start, you can't wish for more wishes.' and I said 'I wish you could.' That's when he hit me!"