There was a stage. A microphone. A guy with a guitar and another at a piano. One spotlight trying to mark out everything up there and missing the edges. And that was it. If the audience in the jazz bar had been expecting anything more, anything grander or, well, jazzier, they were disappointed. Most were. It was a good place to be disappointed in.
It was a good place to spend money when it had nowhere else to be spent too. That’s mostly what these people were doing. Spending money that they didn’t know what else to do with. Spending...
Pension. Never thought I would make it this far. The job was ridiculous, stand there, make sure the machine hit the same spot every time, stop the line when it missed and clear the jam as quickly as possible to get the line running as fast as you can.
I never thought of it as a career. I guess I never really thought of anything as a career. It paid the bills, put food on the table and clothes on the kids back. It help us make the house payments, the car payments, the TV payments. It was simple enough,...
He was on edge today, I could tell. The whole drive over to the crime scene he was quiet. He is never quiet unless is trying to solve a case in five minutes, his ex-wife is being a pain in his ass or some thing more sinister was on his mind.
We crossed the holographic police line. It recognized our badge numbers and IDs instantly. These things save so much more time than that old, shitty tape we used years ago.
He knew who to talk to, and walked right up to the officer in charge.
"We got this boys,"...
.that's when my life changed forever. Not only did i just shit myself, i was staring at the body og my bestfriend through the window of my car and she was dead. DEAD!!! what am i gonna tell her parents? Oh god, what am i gonna tell my Grandma? She'll be devastated! I know how much she loved annie! I know!!! Oh well i better get this over with.
I get out of the car and go to annie's body. THen i drag her to the river and push her in. Wait... was i not supposed to do that? Will...
There is a point where you have prayed enough. When you have suffered enough. It was at this point that Imelda figured out how to pick the lock on her bedroom door.
The sound of the door creaking rattled in her ears. Carefully, she felt along the walls. She headed for what she remembered was the front door.
She couldn't see anymore. Years locked up in the darkness, her eyes were mere pinpricks in her face. She could hear the sound of breakfast being prepared. Hear the sound of their voices as they laughed. The sizzle of bacon.
She remembered...
I liked Erica, but Daddy didn't. She did everything for him, like the man on the advert said she would, and it had meant I wouldn't have to anymore.
She had mousy hair and it fell around her pale face in curls. She always smiled at me with her pretty eyes and high cheek bones, and at Daddy. Though he would never smile back.
Erica was always sweet and loving and kind, just like Mummy had been.
I still feel sad when I think of Mummy sometimes. Especially when I happened to brush Erica's skin. It was cold. Not like...
My head is pounding, three days of this. The wind has been blowing. I look out my office window and it is either the eye of the storm with it's fits and starts or we're near the end of it. The trees are bending, but there are little black leaves, birds. They're sitting swaying in the tree, calm. When they fly off, they all fly off. Its like watching a school of fish. One makes a subtle turn that sets off a wave and undulation.
Its an eerie view, because suddenly I thought of those childhood explorations in the woods...
Can the dust be blown off of some that isn't tangible, something that constantly whirls through us?
She didn't have a single hand to hold, but she wasn't lost. The events leading up to her disappearing were normal enough: the first camping trip of the season with a man she utterly, and hopelessly loved, a trip up to Wisconsin to feel some more of those Midwest roots, and then, some relaxing days of looking for some work.
And that was it. That's all it took for her to disappear, and leave the internet all together. Before this, she had high...
She'd always come running when I called. The vampire girl that vanished at daybreak but warmed my bed at night, even though she was a cold-blooded creature.
She read my thoughts, knew when I wanted her, seduced me to the point where all I could do was imagine the next time she lay on top of me, kissing my hungry mouth, sucking my tongue.
Her name was Isabelle. She lived in a castle. Imprisoned for centuries. I believed her. Had to.
What was she really I didn't want to know.
After my wife left me I took to drink, drugs,...
Millions spent on public health are inflationary. This is why we should kill people when they're born. That's right. When a baby is born, you flip a coin. If it comes up heads, kill it. That's what they do in China, only they don't flip a coin. They say if the baby has a vagina, kill it.
And this is a little creepy for a six minute story, isn't it? I got the first line by opening a Kurt Vonnegut book to a random page and writing down the first line I saw. Everything flows from there.
The word flow...