"Bad way to go," said Detective Renfield. He was standing over the body (or what was left of it) with his arms akimbo.
I sighed, adjusting my hat to better shade me from the hot sun. "Fourth case this month," I reminded him. "Maybe city hall will finally get serious about the pigeons after this."
"Nah, I wouldn't count on it," my partner said cynically. "A few bums get eaten by pigeons, what do folk like them care?"
"According the statistics, the pigeon population's tripled in just a few months," I remarked, thinking back to my interview with Professor Gendry....
Marvin knew that he had to return the salad dressing. Last night, it started screaming at him. "BRING ME DWARVES!" it yelled. Strange, since as far as Marvin knew, salad dressing does not have vocal cords.
So he put the salad dressing in a baggie and threw it in the back of his backpack. He could hear the salad dressing yelling. "I HATE THE DARK AND I HATE THE WARMTH!!! THIS IS WORSE THAN THE FRIDGE! THAT WAS DARK BUT AT LEAST IT WAS COLD!!!"
Down the stairs Marvin ran. As he pushed his way out the door, he ran...
She bent down to tie her shoe as the sun was setting. The reflection of the pinkish-yellow ball was right in front of her at the edge of the lake. The pebbles beneath her feet were wet and smooth. The umbrella she brought with her, still resting on her beach towel by the tree.
With many thoughts in her head, Chelsea folded up her umbrella and tucked it beneath her arm, rolling up her damp towel and stuffing her towel into her drawstring bag.
Today was a good day, she thought. She could get through this day. Days at the...
Water. That's what I always think of when I think of her. Cannon Creek, Lake Erie, the Atlantic, the Pacific, nothing too specific.
Water can be anything you need, want, fear, love, hate. It can be clear, it can be murky. It can be warm, cold, swallow, deep. All these things are what water naturally is.
In my memory, our love is an ocean. Oh, yes. We were in love. I'm not so hopelessly romantic that I would ever be involved in unreciprocated love. No, no. We were in love, and it was the ocean.
She swam in the clear...
The cover image for the book was not exactly what she had envisioned. Then again neither was the book really. But she was published, that's what mattered right? True she had used a pen name, but she knew the book was hers. The words on the pages her doing (well most of them anyway). But that image. It really didn't have all that much to do with the story in the book. Would people be disappointed when they read it? Would it make it more buyable as the publisher claimed. Well it was out of her hands. Thank God she...
If I just write something, what if I reveal something unsavoury about myself?
What if I mess up the spelling?
What if I am under so much pressure to knock something out in six minutes that I don't write anything? A single blank page permanently appearing on my profile as a record of my inneptitude?
What if I write about something uncool, or unninteresting? First impressions count, after all. I'll be an outcast before I've even started.
Maybe I could just leave here and never come back. All this would be a brief, awkward memory. I could add it to...
The water crashes onto our feet. His hand lets go of mine as he turns away from me. He tells me he can't let me do this. I just shake his thoughts away. If you loved me you'd stay with me. I look at him and smile. He was really remarkable. I sweep away the hair that had fallen into his eyes. Our lips embrace for the last time. He tries to hold on to me but I push him away. I walk into the water as the waves takes me under.It's colder then I imagine. I can hear his...
Blood dripped down from my arms to my legs. I was bound to a pole in an empty room with nothing but a mirror to look at. They were there though, they were listening. I would confess but I didn't know what I did or why I'm here. I was screaming and thrashing trying to break free, but for what reason?
"I know your there listeners, but for what purpose? Are you using me or I am I already used? ANSWER ME!"
The speakers squeaked and a harsh, deep voice called to me.
"We are not using you, you are...
The garage was stacked to the ceiling with boxes, the U-Haul ready to cart them away on that windy Tuesday morning. I was wearing sweatpants and my hair was tied up in a bun, ready to move the hell out of there. I had only lived in that white suburban house for two years. I remember the day I moved in it was mid-February. That was two years ago. Then it became May 19th, Tuesday, and windy. I held back tears as I drove away from that house, the one we were supposed to live in after the wedding, raise...
A wolf was hunting her, for she was young and precious and delicious. She didn't remember her name, she had been running for so long; so, when she got up and went into the doorway, she was surprised at first. There was a picture of her on the wall. There was a picture of her with an old woman.
"What..." she mumbled, a breath barely traveling from her lips.
"Oh, auspicious granddaughter, you have finally arrived! Come in, come in, and give your dearest granny a kiss."
The girl looked towards the bed and there was a hairy, beastly old...