He had climbed the steep Acropolis, seeking Athena Parthenos (the virgin), every time work or pleasure or strange fates called him to Athens. Yet today he paused by the Temple of Dionysis, only about a third of the way up the olive treed slope. One of the several custodians, some in plastic and metal cells, others, like this young lady beneath whatever shade the Gods (and strategic umbrellas) could provide. Something about her effortless attention, seeing all who paused or passed, while seemingly merged into a thick hard back, caught his attention.
She sat, regally, letting the Sun and people...
I'd paid for the whole night, thinking that I might as well go for the whole enchilada.
Half an hour would have been $80-plus, the "plus" being a sliding scale based on what I wanted to do in the half-hour. An hour would have been $200-plus. She said the full hour cost more than two half-hours because the clients usually wanted to be more exotic if they have a whole hour to work with.
I paid $2000-plus for her to stay with me the whole night. All the hours she'd do nothing but sleep with me, she could have been...
The water was clear. What? Sorry! The helicopter… the heli… ok?… can you hear me now?
No… I checked all the buildings… Personally. There's no sign… Yes, they're here now. Some are sweeping the island…
… the Coast guard were…er… surprised when I explained why we were all here…
No, they finally got what we were doing. I even managed to hand out a few brochures… Yeah, assuming we don't get bad press from today you might have a fe…
Sorry. Yes. Not the time… No, everything went according to the script. People slowly "disappearing" into the hidden room… No,...
His apology was not the thing she'd expected when she checked her phone in the morning. With one eye she stared at the screen and then rolled to her belly and pulled the phone to the tip of her nose as she tried to focus.
"I shouldn't have done any of that, I can't stop thinking about it."
She patted her hands over the bedcovers, fumbling through folds until she found her glasses and pressed them to her face.
"I can't stop thinking about it either," she replied, "But I liked it. It was exactly what I wanted."
His reply...
When I got the envelope in the mail, I DID NOT expect that there would be THAT inside of it. I expected a frilly Christmas card with puppies wearing jingle bells on their collars; because that's just what Uncle Menken sent. I suppose he thought they were cute. However, I was wrong. I slit the top of the envelope and a huge square of paper, folded many times over, slid onto the table. Definitely not puppies with jingle bells. I unfolded the crumbly, yellowed paper and looked at the image sketched upon it. I knew that shape. I knew that...
In hindsight, the solution was simple. But Tim hadn't thought that five minutes ago.
The boy pounded the keyboard furiously; letters, numbers and symbols flashing across the screen.
Dave peered over the other boys shoulder, tentatively.
"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked.
Tim ignored this comment. Of course he could do it. Yes, they would detect the hack in a matter of minutes, but he never doubted his ability to circumvent their security before then.
He began to type faster, his fingers a blur.
Dave stepped back, sweat beginning to bead his head. If they could get...
This dream was better than waking. I was slim. Looked beautiful in the ivory vintage silk dress Mama had worn herself. Stepping out of a two horse carriage festooned in thornless white roses. Flash of cameras. Walking down the aisle holding Papa's arm, relatives crammed in the church, sitting and standing, heads turned to watch the procession towards the altar.
I couldn't see the bridegroom's face for some reason, something often goes amiss in dreams, but I knew he must have been hadsome.
I woke at the sound of footsteps down the hall, heavy, slow, echoes reverbrating into my consciousness....
It flies through the air, flashing silver and disappearing. My fate depends on that coin landing face up. All I can hear is my own heart beating in my ears, blood rushing through me as the coin falls ever closer to the table. It clatters onto the scarred wood, spinning like a small planet. He holds his breath across from me, eyes fixed upon the little silver coin that will decide our fates. It's inscribed with the words "In God We Trust" on the side my life depends on. "OK then, God. Do your stuff." I thought silently. The coin...
Wanted. Crib. Last one sold prematurely.
"The day after tomorrow, this will all be over." Such a fucking cliche.
Sure, our road trip would be ending soon enough, and we would be returning to our miserable, monotonous, minimum-wage jobs that regularly take us to the very brink of sanity... but to pretend that everything we just experienced would be concluded as soon as we return to home port strikes me as truly false.
The thing that he seems to miss is the continuity of events which develops out of the dynamic relationship between what we do and otherwise experience, and the way we see our fundamental...