Andy abhorrs aggressive people, but he adores alliteration. He likes sunlight, and soft things, and words that start with the same letter as his name. Andy doesn't like to be touched, but he likes to touch things. Soft things are the best, especially Maggie's dog with his shaggy fur and smiling face. Sometimes, Andy likes to sleep on him, and Maggie lets him. Andy has a good life most of the time, when people leave him alone or when he gets chips for his tea. He likes wearing no socks and feeling the grass between his toes, because it's soft,...
Kelsey was afraid to go out at night. Afraid of big, bad Bromley. When she told people she met online that she left in Kent, they always said she was lucky to live in such a nice, leafy Home County, nestled away in the undergarments of England's green and pleasant land.
But Kent had a dark, nasty side. That side was called Bromley. Yet another drive-by? Really? People didn't associate Kent with gun crime, or compare it to the LA ghettos, but Kelsey did.
Her friend Marie had also had enough of it. But Marie wasn't so scared.
"Kelsey, let's...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. Or were his clothes pounding and his heart soaking wet? That's the great mystery surrounding the untimely death of Clive Anthony Cliveanthony.
We know that he did run into the room, based upon the velocity of wind against his person and tread marks on the carpet from his sandals. And yet, by the time his body was discovered, the clothes were dry and the heart was definitely not pounding. His liver was pounding, but not his heart. His heart just sat there with a vacant expression, like...
Whenever the mailperson knocks
They deliver to us a new box
I don't know from whom
But I wish for their doom
On all of their houses, a pox
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty.
But all this non-stop male attention must mean something. Guys all ages were asking her out, even last week John (aged 22) walked her home and came in for a coffee, holding her hand as they talked about music and poetry, hanging onto every word.
Bill was a seventy year old millionnaire and called about ten times a day desperate to meet up. Jack was even older and wanted to buy them both a mansion, he was so bored with his life that he spent all his time gambling.
Steve was...
It was midnight in the Temple of the Light, the sun was shining, and the Guru Akiva was smiling up at the man with the gun.
"Go ahead, child. Do it."
The man glanced around. Nobody to see him, tall, trench coat, barrel of the revolver pointed at the serene little monk as he sat, lotus-style, in the pavilion.
"Nothin' personal, old-timer." he managed to grunt. He didn't usually speak to the mark, but this guy, well, he figured the old man deserved an explanation. "The Council wants war, you see. The Temple, yer planet, it's... uh..."
"Sacred. Yes. You...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. “Your turn” she said, as my hands trembled in fear. Why was I here? Who was she? So many questions left without an answer. I swallowed, breaking the piercing silence. She laughed. “First time playing?” she asked smugly, already knowing the answer. I stayed quiet. I could barely hold it. A beautiful 1873 Frisco Revolver, 6 chambers, yet somehow, that didn’t lighten my mood. I wrapped my hand around the Pearl style grip hoping for the best. It felt cool in my hands. I looked at her, she smirked.
That was the last...
It's midnight and we're sitting on the roof and your hand is on my knee and I'm leaning my head on your shoulder and you're saying something about the stars, about how bright they are, about how they look the same on the other side of the world, something cliche like that. But they don't, do that? I hear a door slam from somewhere inside and I can feel you flinch. You're not supposed to be here, I guess. You think I've got someone else, but I don't. He broke up with me yesterday morning, on the front lawn as...
Her joints screamed as the winter chill ran through her veins and iced her skin. It was so cold out and this blizzard was never-ending.
Julia huddled around the oven pumping heat into the 500 square-foot apartment, something her mother said to never do but it's not like the heat worked.
"Why the hell did I go out there?" Julia said aloud to the appliances.
She threw Ryan out for a reason but months of anticipation made the actual act much harder. She wasn't even sure if it was going to be today, but in the end it was. He...
It was his favourite shirt. But in the rush to leave, it had been forgotten on the line. She stared at it every day from her window. Today it was an especially bitter reminder as she stood at the window, mixing up a batch of cookies.
The cookies were for her son's funeral. The son who had worn that shirt day in, day out, until the day he left. The son who had climbed that tree as a boy, played hide and seek in that yard. The teenager who brought girls home to kiss behind the big tree when he...