" Pow pow pow, shit!"
Silence has taken over. The ahots fired have stopped and a thud is heard above. Ten minutes later there is a knock at the door. His knock is more of a sequence knock like a code. "Julie?" The woman behind the peep hole is covered in muck breathing he okay and wiping sweat from her brow. Finally the door is opened. " I told you this is a secret knock you don't call my name you knock back in the same sequence! Idiot!" Julie and Hannah have been stranded in their grandfathers complex for days....
The conversation lasted two words.
At least, by the computer's definition of 'word'. That was definitely the source of the bug.
They were trapped for seven days. God's work was able to be done in freedom: the dividing line between earth and sky, earth and ocean, the fecund fields with animals and birds, the oceans teeming with fish and monsters, the two legged animals - human beings - created to carry God's hope.
But the forces of chaos, of tohu and bohu, were chained for those seven days; trapped and kept away from the great work of creation.
There was order at work: chaos was trapped. There was fertility abounding: destruction was stayed. There was ingenuity in creation: blankness was put...
The sun brushed against the back of her neck as she walked towards the corral. Her hands fidgeted with the rope, looping it and unlooping it, her fingers running along the rough hemp braids, pausing at the bands of electrical tape marking hand holds.
Gus held his hand out to help her up onto the fence as she reached the edge of the corral, a smile splitting his tanned face. "You ready?" he asked, his voice a hoarse rasp.
She nodded as she reached the top of the fence. Inside the corral, her horse stood saddled, its side pressing against...
Fault. Not a good word. Not a pleasant word. It conjures up the idea of blame. If someone’s at fault, someone’s to blame. The same thing.
Plus it makes me think of faulty. Broken. Useless.
Like you, really. It’s your fault. You’re faulty. It’s not me, it’s you.
I can tell you now I never appreciated the blank stares, the monosyllables, the selfishness, the way you sit there every morning drinking your coffee and reading your paper, or tapping away at your laptop, or doing whatever it is you do with your phone. Facebook, maybe? Or are you on Twitter?...
The horses were reflected in the wet, grasping sand, and Mary was afraid when she looked down. Images of being sucked into the muddy, cold slime reared up in her mind and she couldn't dismiss them. She closed her eyes and clung tightly to the reins, gripping as hard as she could so as not to topple sideways and be lost forever.
Mitch was not afraid. "Isn't this wonderful?" he asked breathlessly as he rode up to join his wife. "Can you believe we're actually doing this? A lifelong dream, finally realised!" And before Mary could answer and give her...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not int he " there'll be a twist int he end and ill be saved kind of way. Just dead.
Something things you just know, and I knew by the growing pool of blood that it was over. Dying doesn't t hurt like you would think. I mean, yeah, it isn't fun, but the pain from being wounded, it dissipates.
I can't talk anymore. Breathing is sort of hard, and I can't lift my hands, but I can see, and I can hear, and I can hear the squeaky little cries. I can see my sister,...
Shattered.
She had always had a fondness for that word, the way it reflected the brokenness it supposedly defined, the way the consonants lined up, hard and jagged on the ears and soul. Maybe that was part of its appeal. She had always had a fondness for broken things...
She stared at the black screen before her, out of practice and rapidly running out of time as the timer quietly mocked her, accused her, with its silent countdown. Time was running out. Would she have time enough to mend the shattered peices of her soul? In the seconds that remained...
Why didn't you hear me when I called? Or did I not hear you hearing me? Is that possible? I guess anything's possible these days. Just turn on anything. Better yet, try turning something off. Good luck. I think the whirring sound above may have something to do with your leaving, but I've been wrong before. Please give a sign. I'll just stand here. No wait, I'll stand here instead. How's this? Is this far enough to be safe? Look, I'm not even waving my arms. I'm simply here for you and your lazy gesture. How many have made that...
There wasn't much more he could say. At this point they had been arguing for hours and it had slowly spiraled in to complete silence, neither one willing to say the first word, to break the ice (again) so to speak. Both facing away from the other, arms crossed. Defiance. Why is it that sometimes adults can act like children? Children are masters of the silent treatment. Then again, children are just that - children. It means so much more when it's your partner refusing to talk. And you not wanting to 'lose' by talking first. That's all it is...