Mal says, "Don't think this'll pass, and I'll cool down and think the chill of my loneliness can be warmed by blanket of your love. Your love is a cold, salty bar rag."
"I waited by your side for months until you healed. No one else ever came to see you," cried Layla.
"Yeah, well, who asked you? Maybe I put myself in that coma for a moment of peace. Christ, you can't take a hint. And get that kid outta here. Wasn't mine, even in theory.
"And neither were you."
Hero at Midnight
No one could remember who among them gave him the name Rooster; probably someone long gone by this point. A seventy percent casualty rate will leave one gaping hole in the communal memory. Everyone could remember why: yodeling and ukelele music in the pre-dawn hours was inexcusable by any measure. It had started after the battle for Hill 487. Most of Rooster's squad had been blown into pieces too small to put back together. Hence the coping mechanism. However, after two weeks of this crap, enough was enough, and Private Morlane drew the short stick: shut him...
Bombs were the last thing on his mind.
Everyone was hiding under desks, wary of the slightest sound whereas he was wondering how soon before people registered the change in him.
They might be in shock and forget. But what if they didn't? Would he have to convince the survivors they were hallucinating?
Crouching in under the lower shelve in the store cupboard Jack could feel his ears growing and wings strain against his shirt. It wouldn't be long before his faerie body would be a giveaway, hopefully the others would have been rescued by then and he could stay...
Tom jumped and all that remained were the boots.
Our pa made us kids wear boots many sizes too small all the time. Even in the scorching sun we'd have them on, blistering our bare feet, twisting toes out of shape, uncut nails growing under. No-one was ever allowed to remove them or there would be trouble.
Whenever I recall that image of boots on the shore I'm so envious. Tom is free. Somewhere. Maybe he swam to the other side and is now having a fantastic life. Or maybe he's dead. He would be in heaven if that was...
It's 2.35 pm now and Mary is sitting in the room. She is bored and restless. She has been restless for most days. She misses the one person who has changed her life drastically.
Mary was always the girl who is eager, fun loving and very much in love with life. She loves the wind in her hair, the pleasant birds chirping in the window. She is easy to be around with.
But this time of day, she was restless.It is not about the heat of the sunny day or the humidity of the weather. She misses someone. She is...
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 had died probably 15 minutes ago by a raving lunatic. I know, drastic way to go right? Actually, it was quite thrilling.
So, there I was walking on Park Street when I hear this noise coming off from the left. It wasn't like anything I'd heard before. I shouldn't have done it. I'd still be alive. Those are the choices we make I guess. Anyway, I go over to see what's up and this guy jumps...
I remember this day. This was the happiest and saddest day of my life. That morning, my soulmate Pete and I were married. On our way to the reception disaster struck. SCREECH, CRASH. Next thing I knew, I was in the Intensive Care Unit at the hospital. I looked to my side but there was no Pete. At this moment, I knew the worst had happened. Pete was dead. I was in hysterics. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life but instead, it was the worst. This was worst then the time my high school sweetheart...
I'm awake but my eyes are stuck closed. What times is it? 7:30, am I reading this right? I should't be surprised, I haven't been able to sleep past 8am since I turned 30. Suck.
It's a Tuesday, my Monday.
Two clients: one with big expectations and another with big confusions.
Trying to launch my first iPhone App as a side project.
Need to get back to working on my own startup company.
The ocean pulls me to surf, the rocks pull me to climb.
But today is a "work" day, which essentially means that it will be lumped into...
Think warm thoughts.
Everyone hears about the other problem. Spontaneous Human Combustion, like it's some mysterious force. Ninety percent of the time, it's just a smoker who nodded off in a polyester easy chair. As if it's some big mystery. The other ten percent, you have your idiots that accidentally got soaked in lighter fluid, people trying to fry things, and other morons. Investigators act like it's so mysterious, but that is just because they don't understand fire. How it works, how it feeds. It's a bunch of pseudo-science, like a medieval doctor trying to cure people through bloodletting and...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Off, yes. around, yes. But on, absolutely not. No matter how many times he flipped the switch, no matter how many times he prodded it, shook it, swung it over his head, he could not get it to turn on. He decided to coax it. First he offered it things that humans like: chocolate, love and affection, sex. The lamp did not budge. Then he offered it things that his cat liked: mackerel, catnip, a laser. Nothing. He tried reasoning with it, but the lamp was dead to his entreaties. Look, he explained, you staying...