monster was close behind, groaning with teh weight of its recent feeding. The awnings above shuddered witht eh raor, the inhuman aching roar of a beast long gone from the mortal realm. The man gripped his shoulder, a wound sputtering orange-red blood. The beast hunted my scent and fear, grasping at the walls of the citadel with its massive tendrils.
A mouth emerged from its muddied hide, screaming with the fuel of nightmares and horrific things. It was the face of a child, crying and in seconds, it was swallowed back into the amorpheous body of the beast. The man...
It wasn't entirely fair. It wasn't.
You knew it wasn't.
See that one in the back? She's yours, right?
The one barely visible?
The safe one.
That one is yours.
The one in front? Not yours, not really. Not the same way.
Polka dots. Something Sandra bought her the last time you...well, the last time.
Sandra. She's not your either, not anymore. In the end, she wasn't safe. Not really.
It's the eyes, isn't it? The eyes that get you. Maybe the sun - the way it seems to be an answering presence, a judging presence. Judging...her? You? But not...
I sat on the bench in the park. Breathed in the air. Smelled the ash and dust.
It was quiet here, beneath the shade of the building, and it wasn't something so surprising. The city was empty. I was alone.
They say that death sends you somewhere either utterly amazing or utterly horrible. I can say that death brings you to neither. I died a while ago, though time seems to freeze here. I wondered where I was, for a while, and where everyone else was. But this place, this quiet, lonely place, is now my home.
I lean back...
It approached. Lisa's heartbeat quickened, her skin growing clammy, the room swimming. Oh my god, she thought, this can't be happening.
It came further - black and menacing, eyeing up it's latest victim.
Lisa knew she should do somehting, but fear had paralysed her. She couldn't think straight.
It stopped. Staring. Staring straight at her. Probably waiting to pounce.
She scanned the room, desperately looking for something she could use as a weapon. Nothing. Nothing that would do much damage, what could she do throw a pillow at it?
Without warning, it began to move again; faster than before. Almost...
Fault.
It wasn't mine. It wasn't his. I'm not sure it was anyone's, really.
I think it considered itself its own fault, kind of a Frank Sinatra "I did it my way," "I'm my own man" sort of thing. No one was going to tell it what to do or when it was allowed to slip, and how much. If it wanted to let off little 3.5s every couple of months, it would, and if it decided to store up for a 9.9, that was its own business!
And I figured it wasn't really my business to interfere. I would've...
the fog sat heavy
in the valley cauldron.
each intersecting limb
was the peace of a friday
morning, interrupted.
we were singing
all the songs we had heard
before as children, and we
thought of having coffee,
but we didn't.
what does it mean
to be caught under a tree
at the break of what would be
a taciturn day, but wasn't?
I hear the crunch underneath my foot. I look down and see beneath me the perfect array of multicoloured dead leaves. I bend down to pick one up and examine it softly with my fingertips. It's a dark shade of red, almost brown, but it still has a tint of green around the edges; as though the leaf had died too soon. I smiled, before scrunching it in my hand and feeling that satisfaction of the noise it made.
I continued walking along the path in the woods. My dog was way ahead of me now and probably not wondering...
It was a dark night, full of mist in the air ad puddles reflecting the orange light of lamps that lined the long cobbled streets. Marcelle was waiting for a visitor on the rooftop of the Goyer building, one of the tallest in the owrld. Had anyone been awake in the city, they would have thought him a suicide. Footsteps rang out on therooftop surface and Marcelle turned slowly, keeping his collar up against the wind. It was a woman. "I didn`t expect them to send the lousiest spy in the world." she said. It was Bev, the woman who...
Giving in wasn't an option. To surrender to that demon wench, horrifically taunting him with all the glories of his gender-bent body that he knew made him sick, was out of the question. He'd sooner stab himself, or worse, let his younger brother best him in their next bout.
He could not deny, however, he was getting cornered into a difficult position. There was something off about the way the chimera chose to come at him this time. Aside from letting watermelons of bosoms bounce and burst out of his vest at him.
He inwardly shuddered. That had to be...
he ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. He couldn't believe what had happened. Today had started off so well, everything going to plan.
He had woken early, before his alarm, excited as a kid at Christmas. He'd gone to work, where he had tried in vain to concentrate on his work.
Every second had seemed like an hour, but finally 5pm had come.
He had sat across from her at the restaurant, his heart in his mouth. She had looked lovely; more beautiful than she had ever looked. Her golden hair shimmering in the...