He set the plate before her. He knew she wasn't hungry but he did it anyway. She didn't mind because she knew he went to a lot of trouble to put this dinner together. She always did all the cooking, he always did nothing. This time he put in some effort and she wanted to reward.
After thinking a moment while simultaneously offering idle, akward conversation, she realized, No, she didn't want this. She always did the cooking because she liked doing. he did this cooking because he felt obligated to. As if somehow performing a task traditionally done by...
"I never asked to be a hero," Fred screamed. "As a matter of fact, I was supposed to be the villain!" Fred grabbed Judy before Punch was able to stop him.
"Fred...what is your goal, what do you think you can accomplish by scaring Judy?" Punch asked calm as the dead wind that laid heavy against their skin.
"I want to obtain the Marionnettes. I want to be free to wake up and pull the strings of life without being looked at as someone who will save mankind," Fred said as he let go of Judy. His hands white with...
It was difficult getting to people to understand that actually you wanted to be in the cage. That the cage was the safest place at the moment.
The rest of the world had gone mad - or at least, it seemed that way. Maybe the world had always been like this, maybe there had always been something in a stranger's eye, maybe there was always something in the rain that made it taste funny.
Maybe the drugs were wearing off, maybe he was finally waking up to the reality. Or the drugs were taking effect, maybe he was devolving (he'd...
She could tell I was faking it. Unforgiveness. Ten years working at the lab, overtimes, ruined marriage, kids that pretend I'm not their dad, ulcers. I hated her for joking around, waving the scalpel, accidentally killing F7, our first subject to live beyond three months.
In human years he this was equivalent to 20. Tall, dark haired, extraordinarily strong. Yes, he was ugly, but this was of no consequence. We had all grown to love him. .
Sonia, my assistant ran out the room instead of trying to save his life. Couldn't look at me. Knew I would never stop...
"Death to the tyrant!" Lorenzo shouted.
Within the crowd, there were many responses. Each one said the same words, "Death to the tyrant", but each man enunciated the words differently. In each utterance you could hear the word being ejected with their personal reasons.
Tremain, in his worldview, saw the king as symbol of the working class oppression that had haunted him his whole life. Why should his money support some overfeed pompous ass who hadn't worked a day in his life? The king does not decide the laws anymore, that is the parliament's job.
Lorenzo, in his wisdom, saw...
It was hard to send a message in a bottle when you didn't even have the bottle.
Harry sighed as he put the folded bit of paper into the stream, hoping it would be carried to someone who would find him. Someone with better navigational skills than he had anyway. He couldn't even write his location, because he hadn't the slightest Goddamn idea where he was. GPS didn't do a hell of a lot of good with a dead phone, and if he hadn't slipped down that muddy slope...
Nevermind.
He rested along the stream's edge and looked up at...
The oil had come months ago now. They had thought it would disappear. It had always done so before.
But it had remained. It had refused to go. It had clung to them, like a desperate duckling clinging to a mother, only this duckling was parasite.
It had tainted them.
There was no escaping it. None whatsoever. They had tried it all, but it followed them. They wore it like a winter coat they had no reason for. It was summer now.
So he had set out, away. That had been his goal at first, but later when he saw...
Jane was a beautiful young woman. Her blonde hair was the envy of everyone in the land. No one else had hair like that. Many said it was the color of straw. Now her father, he was also a nice man. Very beloved by everyone and the leader of this village. He, however was dying. Jane was his only child and not ready to take on the duties that would be given to her if he died. She had been walking through the meadow one day when it struck her. She could get the elixer of Eternal Life and give...
The conversation lasted two words:
"Please?"
"No."
Afterwards, Katy wondered if she and Daddy had actually been talking about the same thing or not. Maybe he thought she still wanted to have ponies at her birthday party. Didn't he know she had gotten over that already? Or maybe he figured she was asking for a sip of that grown-up drink he had been holding.
She resolved to sort things out. That evening, when he arrived home from work, Katy shuffled meekly into the kitchen and said, "Daddy..."
"No," he replied brusquely. But his eyes said something different.
Embolded, Katy blurted...
Travel light, but take everything with you.
That was the last message I received from my father before he began his ascent. The words struck me in an unexpected way. I had anticipated experiencing a range of emotions at the outset of his trek. Exasperation at the foolishness of this mid-life-crisis-driven thrill-seeker kick. Pride in his ambition. Fear for his life--no, fear for my own life, which would change drastically and uncomfortably if he never made it back.
But at the base of that mountain, with ice on the wind, as he read me that short passage from the introduction...