The gate closed behind them with a soft click. They crept along the grass, still wet from the afternoon rain, to the french doors. No lights were lit on this side of the house.
They stopped at the door and reached for the knob.
"He was supposed to leave it unlocked," one voice said behind a ski mask.
"Try the other one," another ski mask said.
The other knob turned and the door swung open, into an office. One wall was an inset bookshelf. And the second ski mask whispered she'd always wanted one of those.
"Marry a doctor, like...
I wonder. I really wonder. He always enjoyed pulling a fast one over me, he did. So I suppose this wasn't a surprise, even after all these years: he would have probably planned it all this time, ready to spring it over me, and watch my befuddlement. He did that all the time before, so why should he stop now?
Then again, that's probably me being paranoid. 'Ox bow lake'. What the hell does that mean? And why, on earth, did I have him- or her- there? It could be anyone of the many enemies I've made over the course...
The gate closed behind them. Back to the land of the living, no walking into the light without a backward glance.
Angels watched the reluctant men, women and children hesitate, clutching hands with their loved ones, those that had passed on beforehand and had greeted them. Now comforting and advising it is the wrong time to stay. They were special, given a glimpse into heaven, a chance to alter their lives for good, inspire others that there is more to this life than most believe nowadays. They would return without the paralysing fear of death, they would welcome the last...
In her rear-view mirror, she saw Gene turn. He looked at the bush, at her, at the bush again, and then felt his pockets. Phone, wallet, ke...
He bolted for the bush. Heather slammed her hand against the ignition and turned the key. Grinding metal. The car was already on. She floored it and turned for the bush. No clear plan had formed in her mind but she could see Gene sprinting. The bush arrived and the car rose up to meet it, bouncing over the rockery and screeching up the hill. Grinding metal again. The wheels were spinning. Smoke...
She was walking home from work, tired from staring at a screen that she almost missed the cute witchy shop called "Witch, pleeease".
"Oh alright I'll just pop in. It's not too close to closing time."
She went to reach for the doorknob when a window slid open in the door and someone in a skeleton mask requested "Password please?"
"Um 3Witchy5Me?"
"Oh my god you actually got it girl, come throoough"
She could hear the bubbly shopkeep say "Alohomora" muffled by the door as it swung open. Inside were candles with glitter in them and incense that smelled of...
The dream had been wonderful, yet it would never be real.
I am blind yet everything I experience at night is always in varying shades, or what I think are shades. I question if what I see is the same whites, blacks, red, yellow, orange, green etc and all the tones in between that everyone else can see.
I am lucky in a way that I know what to wear, I can sense the differences between shades, they have their individual feelings, sometimes I can even hear them like musical notes.
The dream last night was different in that there...
"Lifetime Warranty - Satisfaction Guaranteed" the adverts had promised. "No one has ever returned a loveBot 7000 in the history of the company."
He flicked through the manual. Ah there it was: "If you are genuinely unhappy call THIS toll-free number…"
After keying in a few tones - he hated automated call centres - he had been put on hold by what he assumed to be a clever computer, but was in fact a rather stupid one.
The loveBot sat up, watching him lovingly, with her 'come to bed' eyes. It had entranced him at first. That, compliance, and...
When we go to work. We have memories of all kinds, from the good, the funny, the annoying. Just all kinds of memories that you will still remember as time goes on.
One of my recent memories from work was when one of my co-workers had scared my supervisor on purpose.
We were sitting at the desk when me and another co-worker of mine noticed her acting a bit suspicious, albeit in a funny way. When she hid under the desk, she put her finger to her lips telling us the "shush." Picking up the hint, we acted as if...
Twist. Twist your t-shirt to ring out the blood and water. Shake. Shake your head again and again. It's over. It's gone now.
Your palm feels cold against your forehead, but the blood is hot. Hot and wet and it feels funny because there's no pain, only heat. And you can see but its not the same somehow, like when you look away from staring at the lightbulb and shapes dance around you.
I hear pounding. Like drums. Hammering a distant rhythm but wait... no. It's in my head. It really is. Blood. Pounding, marching through each stressed canal like...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It was not that she was frightened - no, fear was something she found rather useless - but because she knew with an unshakeable certainty that if she wandered onto the street, she would be eaten by a vampire.
The house beyond the doorway was no better, on account of there being a ghost lurking inside, the type that would drip ectoplasm on her most horribly before devouring her soul.
This girl, then, was at an impasse. She could neither proceed nor retreat. Go out, the...