'Have a nice day,' said the lady at the counter on the way out of the face painting store, which was covered in cheerful paintings of children's cartoons. Micheal was clinging onto his mother's right hand, a box of face paints for his fifth birthday party in the other.
'What's that shop Mum?' Micheal asked, pointing to the desolate looking store across the road, its lights flashing dimly.
'That is-er,' she said, trying to conjure words to keep him in the shade of innocence
'Your father?' she gasped, trying to comprehend what was going on.
'Is Dad buying adults from...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
I'm not truly Welsh of course, being that my Great Grandfather's Mother's second husband was from Scotland. A secret shame that the Family has bourn quite well, considering. When questioned over my flame coloured Ginger hair, relatives successfully hinted at the local milk delivery representative as explanation. An obvious solution, except for the fact that her hair was clearly and obviously dyed, but there you go.
So, our family are what Cwm-yn-Canu locals would call "incomers", not...
They were trapped for seven days.
And all he could think about was how stupid and incompetent everyone was. Oh, he could get them out if he wanted to. He'd figured out how in the first 10 minutes the lights went out, the tracks stopped moving, and the world stopped spinning.
But he figured he'd rest down here, in this quiet place where people were sobbing their regrets, anger, pity, sorrow, prayers to each other. Lamenting their pathetic lives as they neared their starved deaths. He could smell the piss by the corner where they'd all mutually agreed to designate...
If there's one thing that Marie Antoinette had wished for, it would be that man never discover the sciences involving time travel. Her court was over-populated by not only all of the great people of the twenty-fifth century, but they had filled their quotas by stealing the best minds throughout the previous centuries. The time travel business seemed to be booming, but in its wake came a lot of discord. The leader of this ragtag rebellious group who sought nothing but to make a mockery of her policies was none other than - Katie Fucking Couric. "I'd like to shove...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Lucy shifted, humping herself up on the mattress to look at the actual location of the light, fingers searching to see if, perhaps, she just hadn't hit the right button. But it was still there. The cheap lamp she had bought with her sister at Target while decorating the apartment she hadn't wanted to get.
"Unf," Lucy muttered under her breath. Light bulbs. She had no clue where light bulbs were. Forcing herself up, she headed out of her room and into the bathroom, flicking on the light there. But still, there was no light....
It was warm and dark, inside the riduculously large cave. I looked at huge stalagmites jutting up from the floor like spears. I saw a man, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the cave, a fire burning beside him. I smelled something I couldn't quite place, something delicious. "Hello. What brings you to the cave of the shaman?" he said, waving me closer. I took a single micro-step forward, puzzled by this strange hermit. "I'm here for the Meaning of Life. I was told that you held it here." i said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Yes. But first,...
The lights dimmed. Mary-Rose, in her black-and-white jail-striped dress entered the stage from the left. My left, not hers. I held my icy drink in my hand, legs crossed as I watched her nervously center herself behind the microphone. New Orleans was new to us, but they may have been a good thing, since we were the unknowns of the crowd. My manager Vinny got her the gig, after she promised that no one would start booing or throwing things at the stage. Normally I worked behind the swinging kitchen doors, but tonight, I was a VIP, front row to...
The city was empty and so was she. There was an echo in the quiet streets and an echo in her ear. She had heard this sound before--this sound of nothingness--and it reminded her of something. That vacancy. It made her think of her marriage. That was the sound of her marriage, that emptiness. She felt comfortable in that sound. Above her a streetlight snapped on with an almost audible sound. She could hear the click or maybe just imagine it. The electricity lines opening, sending current to that one lamppost so that it could shine with its weak light....
He never had good taste. He was a rough and tumble builder who wore loud tee shirts or football kit and drank nothing but cheap beer. He was a bully and a loudmouth. But still I married him.
I don't even remember why? He wasn't especially good looking. Lately, he'd even been proud of his ever-expanding beer belly and his ever-decreasing hair. He was my children's father though.
I'm mean, I'm getting older too. Bit thicker round the middle an' all. Few wrinkles around the eyes - smile lines. That's what they should be anyway. Mine are more frown lines....
I really don't remember how exactly I got to this point, but I'm here, so I might as well just deal with it.
"We should really head back now. It's getting too dark."
"No, let's stay. I'm sure the sun will come up every second now."
"Are you serious? It's..."
She couldn't read her watch. It displayed just symbols, like mine. They must have broken when we crashed onto that sidewalk. We're unstuck in time now.
"Isn't it late at night? The sun's not gonna come up for another few hours."
"No, it'll come up. You'll see."
We waited for...