Freewrite had been studying the whole damned week.
It was a chaotic week, filled with dark-roast coffee and cotton sweaters, self induced wakefulness like a ritual. Now, it was Thursday, and Freewrite still hadn't completed his research. He sat groggily, frustrated, hunched over a dark cup of coffee with a pen in his hand and a book to his left.
On the other side of the desks were threescore discarded books that had offered little relevance to him. Friday was tomorrow. Freewrite looked at his wristwatch. It was already 9:58 pm.
Freewrite realized that his thesis was due the morning...
Her toes struggled to grip onto the slimy rocks. Slippers were not the right sort of footwear for this kind of thing, but she hadn't had much of a choice.
She's spotted him through the net curtains, hovering on the doorstep, ready to knock.
Not today, she muttered.
She scurried out of the back door. Leapt the fence. Hadn't realised she could still manage it, but then adrenaline did that to you. She heard the knocking as she dropped over the other side of the fence and into the woods beyond.
RAP RAP RAP.
She scaled the rocks down towards...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. But it turned on yesterday? She checked the bulb, but it wasn't there.
"What the fuck?" she noted, as she glanced around the room. This was instinctual and odd as she knows no one else is within 25 miles of this cabin, the middle of nowhere in South Dakota.
"If I didn't move this bulb, no one could have," she debated aloud to herself. "There's no one else here but me, unless..." she muttered, her voice trailing off in a way that she tried to prevent from sounding desperate, to prevent herself from scaring herself...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
Two weeks ago, she had rebelliously boarded a ship from the island of Taiwan, left her grandparents who had raised her, and traveled back to China to find her parents -- who she wouldn't have recognized at all. She had been sent off as a baby during the Civil War; no sane Republican would have wanted their children brought up where intellectuals like her learned mother and her professor father were being publicly humiliated, abused. It is why she, as a baby, was sent away in...
Bess lock eyed Meg as their minds circled each other warily.
"if I were a cat I'd scratch you." she ventured.
"A dog, I'd bite you." Meg countered.
"As a bear I'd press you down…"
"A horse I'd kick…"
"If I was a buzzard I'd swoop with talons…"
"A Magpie, I'd mob you with heavy wings…"
"A hornet I'd sting…"
"A swallow, I'd flit and dart with sharpened beak…"
"And what would it get you, Old Meg?"
"Methinks the same as you,Young Bess. Naught but ill."
They stopped mentally pacing. A battle over that had never begun.
"What now then,...
I shivered. The moor was cold and damp on this February morning. The fog was thick and clung to my hair, my face, my clothes. I wiped my dewy glasses and stretched my aching limbs. I'd been hiding behind this tree for far too long.
I heard a crack.
I eased myself up, cursing my poor old back all the while, and raised my weapon of choice. I lined up my 'scope, taking a deep breath and smiling with satisfaction as the proud head came into focus.
Old Braveheart I called him. I knew it was a cliche but since...
The gate closed behind them. It was the the beginning of their new life in that house in New Orleans; the wrought iron gate with the heart on it that shielded the home from the street. The climbing foliage on the side door and back of the house was called 'character.' The gravel driveway, the bright white shutters, and the citrus tree were just a few of the home's attractions.
"Nola" nightlife, the beautiful summers in Louisiana, and their love for all things unique were instant attractions. The couple first saw this house on vacation, and it wasn't for sale....
She lay on the water, trying hard to keep her lungs inflated. She started to sink, keeping her nose and mouth above water. As for the rest of her, it was completely surrounded by water. her light linen dress was soaked. She kept her arms behind her, just in case she hit the bottom of the lake. as water consumed her nose and mouth, all she saw, all she thought, all she felt, was the end. She was dying anyway. Why not speed it up a bit?
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. Her body was cold, hard like marble, but also soft -- like frozen meat. That's all she was now: meat. The light was gone, and I could not sleep curled up next to my dead sister.
I needed to sleep. It would be at least another day before we made it to the border, maybe even two before we hit the safe house. Sonia would start to stink by then. And I would lose my mind if I didn't sleep.
Still, her body next to mine reminded me that it was only...
HI! This is a continum of the story: Collapse.
"Hello? This is 911, what is your emergency?" said the operator. "Hello? This is Hestan Gordio. I'm in the park and my friend Vive just collapsed into unconciousness. Please send medical help!" Hestan said into the phone. "OK, the ambulance will be there in a few minutes." said the operator before hanging up. 3 minutes later, the paramedics arrived and lifted Vive onto a stretcher. Hestan climbed into the ambulance and sat like a rock beside Vive the entire drive. When they got to the hospital, they ran her straight up...