I am looking out the window of my tiny house in Michigan and watching the snow pile up on the road.
I won't be going into town today, and I don't mind at all.
My dog is in a ball at my feet. The heat is on. I'm wrapped in a blanket. I feel so lucky in this moment to be alone here, to feel safe and to feel like I'm home and there is nothing to be scared of.
I think this morning I will maybe go back to bed. But I think later I'll read a bit, and...
This note. This one note. This small little ticket of joy, was my way out of here. Out of this dump. Where flies constantly infest every corner of your house, where birds never sing, where dogs whimper and whine down alley ways. Where the sky is dyed a permanent inky grey. No person could ever be happy here.
Now I had a chance to leave, and I wasn't letting it slip through my fingers, not this time. I ran home. The house was empty. Thudding up the stairs, I charged into my room and slammed the door. Quickly, I grabbed...
"You can count me out."
"What? Why? Come on, it's only one little job. The last one we'll ever need."
I looked at him warily. "I don't even want to know. Just let me go back home. I'd really rather not get involved in this."
"You're the best hacker we know."
"EX-hacker," I growled through gritted teeth. "I'm done with all of this."
"You're not done. Your heart is racing. You remember the thrill of a job."
I couldn't very well say no to that point, at least. My heart was pounding in my chest. I could feel the blood...
Bombs were the last thing on his mind. If he lost this poker game, it would be his death anyway. The lights flickered, the ceiling dripped and the cigarettes had long since expired. The gaunt janitor across from him wheezed in a satisfied rheumy way. There it is. His tell for a rotten hand.
The girl with the brown eyes sucked on her teeth. The bombs above loosed plaster from the ceiling and it salted her hair. She shook it off like a dog, her brow creased in concentration. She had been squinting the entire game, suffering her near-sighted bet...
she inhaled her controlling her breathes the interview is in 2 minutes and she already violated rule 1
don't be late. she couldn't really give an explanation as of to why she was. she couldn't let them know which would be
breaking rule two and she's already broken 4 rules exposing the rules
i jumped off the bridge and hit the water.
OK, so i didn't judge the height of the bridge or he depth of the water, but i jumped nonetheless. instead of the sudden death i had anticipated, i found myself floating on top of the water. the bridge was about 5 feet high, but the water underneath was only four and a half feet deep, as deep as a normal swimming pool.
well, i'm still alive, which is kind of ironic because i didn't intend to jump off the bridge in the first place. but my friends yelled at me,...
"You know why girls suddenly change their hairstyles don't you?" He leered over my sister with that gap-toothed smug-motherfucker grin. "Girls change their hair every time they make a major change in life. Like pigtails right before or right after a break-up. Females actually believe this changes them as a person."
My sister giggled, which is my favorite part, right before she undid the top two buttons on her blouse, which is my least favorite part. "You're so right," she said. She kissed him, hard, right before she saw me peeking under the door.
She scowled at me, but she...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. Its bags were packed, you might say. Its shoes were on, and it was at Grandma's. Its teeth were brushed, its coat on and backpack packed. With bullets.
"Reach for the sky!" Criminal Pete shouted, holding the pistol from the previous paragraph at the unsuspecting victims.
"Okay, okay," the unsuspecting victims all said in unison. They all reached for the sky at the exact same time. They were synchronized mug victims. It was a living!
"Stop that, it's creepy, like dolls or clowns," Criminal Pete said. It was a bit creepy, but less...
We made our getaway through the window, I begged you to stay here, to feel the warmth of the house, to watch movies in the dimlit room, but you insisted that I had to "live a little". The clock struck midnight, I heard the chimes & felt the goosebumps as I climbed onto the roof. "This is absurd.. maybe we should go back.. it's freezing out!" But your smile told me differently. You spread a blanket out for us to share, and we looked up at the moon, glowing and providing light for us, along with the streetlamps. I was...
At least the cold would keep the goods from spoiling.
That was Fred's first thought as he lugged the heavy packages from the back of truck, balancing them awkwardly as he struggled through snow. Luckily, the hospital was only a couple blocks away. Delivering the cargo on time without any fluids leaking or parts spoiling shouldn't be a problem. The last thing a transplant patient needs is complications.
Thank goodness for the cold.