The argument that had started before they left the house – before, even, they had learned that they would have to leave the house at all – continued as they drove. Jacob gripped the steering wheel with white knuckled hands, channelling his anger into the car instead of out at his wife, Barbara.
Barbara sat next to him, seething silently, her own hand wrapped together, her own knuckles just as white as her husband’s. One would soon break the deadlock, but neither wanted to be the first. The air was heavy with upset.
Jacob broke first. “You still not speaking...
One day a man called Gilbert played with small electrical appliances, he named this activity "duckery". He played so much his fingers became paranoid. This paranoia soon ran from his fingertips straight to his heart. After a couple of weeks he noticed a strange, yet, comfortable feeling in his upper right shoulder, he called this "proper". Proper became so "happening" that he made up words like "happening" and "bloodthirsty". But things started to take it's toll on poor old Gilbert. He lost his confidence in playing with small electrical appliances. He became depressed and fell in a coma, he named...
It was tragic. He'd just been gathering cotton for his sister's dress, just like she asked him to. He'd gotten tired, and made a sort of bed. The bear had smelled his dog treats that he always kept in his pocket, and decided that the entire package would be tastier. the bear had taken him in his claws, then realized that it's victim was still breathing. So it'd thrown him against the tree, then started ripping out his intestines. When his sister found him, he was a bunch of bones. The only thing left was his heart, purer than anyones...
Old Joseph "Moonshine" Clark was sitting in his tattered wooden rocking chair facing the door, sleeping. The beer he'd downed an hour previously was good stuff and he was sleeping it off. He awoke suddenly. There was a scratch at the door. Then another scratch. And then the house erupted in nails-on-chalkboard scratching sounds, all over the place. As the symphony of scratching grew louder and louder, Moonshine shivered. Adding to the terrible noises was a new, more heart-wrenching sound- the plaintative crying of a baby. Moonshine groaned. He'd known somehow that they'd do this, try to drive him mad...
Her pink shoes dragged on the wet pavement. To him, it felt like the sound of her heels thundered down the street, causing people to stop what they were doing and looking out their windows at him. He paused for a second and looked around. All the windows were empty, most were dark, the slight sound of shoes dragging on concrete not loud enough to be heard over the sond of rain and traffic. He got to the end of the alley and stopped again, shifting his load over to the other side so that he could reach his pocket...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. He clicked it once, and twice. He tapped the bare bulb, once he'd removed the lampshade. He followed the cord down to the wall and unplugged and plugged it back in.
He dug in the drawer in the kitchen and found a new bulb but it didn't fit, so he dug some more and found another, smaller bulb and it did fit but still the damned lamp wouldn't turn on.
At the power box, he switched the breaker, killing the power for a moment to the living room, setting the VCR back to high noon....
The water was clear. The Captain held the glass aloft for the crew to see. So far, so good. The riotous lot seemed somewhat calmed by the sight. It was purely a temporary respite.
"Aye, for sure it *looks* clean," said one of the braver sailors. "But I can't merely believe that won't poison us all just like what was in the barrels before. And, beggin' your pardon, we can't be drinking no seawater, no matter what fancy magic you do to it."
The Captain sighed. The two sailors lost to the poisoned water had caused an uprising, it seemed...
I jumped on the bandwagon. Everyone else was going down, and I mean, I thought I knew the basis of the movement, so of course that's what matters, right? So I went downtown. There were all these people there. All this passion. But I slowly realized that I was just there because it was fun. There were a bunch of other kids, my age, maybe older, sort of just there to have a good time, to try and get a rise out of some people. Like people without clothes on, or like doing drugs in the street, really weird stuff...
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...
The waves crashed on the rocks at the point, Harold heard them, but only in that way you hear things just out of the way, like neighbours fighting or the alarm clock on bad mornings. He shook the ice in his glass and chewed the inside of his cheek. The bartender was giving him the side-eye as he dried the glasses.
A thick finger freed itself from Harold's fist, pointing up, waved towards his empty glass. The bartender, slapped the towel over his shoulder and fixed another gin and tonic.
Harold nodded and brought the drink to his lips.
He...