The moon hung low in the sky, big and fat it was, looking down at us with an air of disapproval. As well it might given what we were up to. Burglary. Nasty business really, but needs must an all that. It had been Jack's idea, as were they all. He was the brains of the organisation, and what with him being the biggest and all, it would have taken a braver man than any of us to stand up to him and say no. That's how we come to be crouching in the bushes outside Millie's house.
'Ready, lads?'...
She wasn't sure she could do this. the bishop had been her friend for a while. he was trying to kill daddy, though, so the princess pulled out her kit and pulled out the vial she hadn't touched since she'd found it. the deadly poison was slipped into her sleeve as she went down to dinner. She sat down next to the bishop, smiling. she moved her arm ever so slightly during the entrees, knocking his hat to the floor. "Oh! You seem to have dropped your hat! Here, let me move your glass so you can get it." she...
I slowly lifted my head, spat the straw out of my mouth and wondered who the hell had encased my skull in lead.
What a party!
The details were a little vague. I knew Big Dave was there and I had a faint recollection of him laying in the bath fast asleep and covered in lipstick. I laughed quietly so as not to hurt my head.
'Heavy night mate' came a voice from behind?
I responded with a grunt, the best I could manage with a mouth like a sandpit.I turned very slowly and my eyes finally began to focus....
Although I had won this prize of the island holiday, I wasn't looking forward to it as I always felt anxious after watching that movie where the residents believed they were survivors of a nuclear war but in reality they were clones made for their body parts.
Jack, my boyfriend of seven years (marriage phobic) was so happy that I tried to force myself to enjoy choosing clothes to pack and overfill the suitcases, just like any other eager woman who had not been on holiday for years and wanted to have the best time possible.
The hotel was very...
It was supposed to have been the most attention-grabbing scenario she could place herself into. There she was, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, in her cute little dress, with her pretty hair all done up, twirling a gauzy parasol, and just oozing schoolgirl charm...
And the people around her walked on past, as if in a blur of life and busyness.
Occasionally she noticed glances from other young women, but instead of being jealous or judgmental -- two attitudes she was very familiar with and, frankly, appreciated equally -- all she received was a vague sense of disappointment....
she tracked him to the cafe. it wasn't right that her past was in his mind, and not her own. she watched his every move. when he sat down, she entered. she sat across from him, acting as if this was perfectly normal. "I need to aquire the information you're carrying. that information doesn't belong in your hands, anyhow." she said. "I don't know what you're talking about." he said simply, taking a sip of the dark liquid swirling in his glass. "I'm talking about my past. my parents, the journal, the apprentice, everything." she said, softer with every word....
Lost, without a hand to hold. That sounds about right. I never thought about it that way, though. To me it's more.. lost, without a sight to see? I don't usually think of people as guiding me. Especially in terms of being lost. Usually, it's my surroundings. This can be taken at face value - if I were lost somewhere in a city, I would be looking for landmarks to guide me. It has a double meaning though. If I feel lost, as in lost without a hand to hold, that means lost in life. To me. I suppose lost...
On the corner of Drake Street, I waited. I was waiting for a change, for something better, for coincidence to happen upon me. And I felt this would happen there, on the corner of Drake Street.
This was like the corner's corner, with multiple slabs of the ornate bank building merging with one another. With so much coinciding, I felt there must be a high level of coincidence in this spot. And would coincidence lead me to the mysterious woman I so desperately wanted to run into, merge with? Coincide?
It helped her features were angular, from her thin arms...
"Listen," I whisper. "Hear the waves crash."
She listens, head cocked to one side. Her beautiful golden hair cascades down her face, a blonde waterfall.
"They're telling you stories," I tell her. "And you can hear them, if you listen."
You can almost hear her, the force it takes for her air-filled brain to concentrate, and listen. Now, she is perfectly poised, on the edge of the cliff. The waves break below her, screaming in her ear. It only takes a slight shove, and she topples off the edge. Even in death she is picture-perfect. For a few moments she...
"But do you love me?"
Love? What is love? Love is a social construct. Love is an excuse to screw someone you think is hot. Love is a joke, a trap, an illusion. Love is what you wish for when you don't know how the world really works.
I see your skin and I think of you naked, wish for you to fall into my arms so I can possess you. Part of me wants you now, part of me wants you always.
There's only a limited extent to which these parts overlap.
Lust after you, to be sure. Like...