I was stealthy. I knew my prey was crafty, so I prepared. Night vision goggles, sniper rifle, grenades just in case. I was stalking the elusive Reindeer through the forests of the Northwest.
Oh, but he was a crafty one, indeed.
He doubled back on me. I barely saw him coming. Who knew reindeers could fly? This one was wearing a blue cape, and its nose was glowing bright red.
I should have seen it coming. He ambushed me.
Then I saw the man himself. Santa. I thought he was made up. He'd been behind the ambush the entire time....
Peasants. The term had only been approved by the Officals a few weeks ago and now, everyone of my Group was referred to as a Peasant. Grandmother used to tell stories about the people who used to be called Peasants. They were basically slaves and very poor but that was hundreds of years ago. Today in 2796, the Officals won't allow anyone to accuse them of abusing their citizens so we are provided with enough food and shelter and clothes to stay alive. Alive. No, that's not right. We survive. Here, we don't really live. At least, not in the...
The lone zombie shambled toward the clubhouse, where we watched, armed with nine irons and pitching wedges. I turned to Adam and said, "Par three, buddy."
"You're on, Sev," Adam replied, and grabbed a bucket of balls, ran out to the porch, and teed up.
His swing was a bit off, and he hooked it, but the ball stayed on the fairway. Not bad, considering the threat of gruesome zombie death that potentially loomed.
"Okay, this time I got him!" Adam shouted, and teed up another ball.
This time, his shot was picture-perfect, and the ball whizzed through the air,...
The storm had blown over, but not before it had blown over his ship, along with all of his crew. The captain always went down with the ship, but by the time he woke up from a plank smacking him upside the head, he found himself drifting alone on a plank of wood in the middle of the ocean, no one else in sight. Too late to sacrifice himself to the sea gods now.
As he drifted, he knew shore was near. There were too many birds flying about for it not to be. He just had to hope the...
She listened, intently. The night was quiet, and she might be alone. Then again, she might not. The girl in the red gown wished she were somewhere other than Beijing, huddled in a doorway in the night. But where would she be, if she could choose? Back in England, probably. There, she would be fearless. There, dangerous men would not be chasing her across the city, seeking to recover an ancient idol - really, it was an ugly thing, wooden and splintery. She wished she knew what all the fuss was about. James had wanted it, though, and so she'd...
"The sheep were at pasture," Daniel typed into his screen. Monica slinked up behind him, read the screen and mocked, "Wow Dan, that sounds like the beginning to a dirty joke, not a children's story."
"Thanks for the encouragement. Hey, I thought you were on your way to get your nails done?"
"I'm getting ready to go, I got stopped by a phone call from your mother."
"What did she want?"
"Nothing really. She just wanted to know if she could throw a surprise party for her little baby boy's thirtieth."
"Shit. I told you I don't want any of...
"I want grandchildren."
"I know, ma. But, I'm just not ready for-"
"-Did I ask you what you're ready for?" ma interrupted me, once again. "I'm old, lonely and in need of grandchildren. As my only child, you owe me that."
I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. Why? Why does my mother torture me so? "Listen, I really do have to-"
"-When are you going to get a man?"
"Mother!"
"Don't act surprised. You're 28. You've never had a steady boyfriend. The girls in my book club are starting to wonder about you."
Embarassment covered me from head to...
The waitress came up and said "Hey, want corn flakes?"
"No," says I. I am busy reading my book, which is about masking tape.
But the waitress is having none of it. "I made these corn flakes myself," she says.
"Okay," says I. "Give me some corn flakes."
She gives them to me. They are red, not orange, but I eat 'em anyway. "Yuck," says I. "These don't taste like corn flakes at all."
"They're not," she says. "They're scabs I picked off my elbow."
She shows me her elbow, which is bleeding lots. All kinds of blood is pouring...
That is what went trough my mind as I plunged into the Everglades' muddy waters. My boat just overturned. I knew there were alligators there by the dozen. That was the reason I rented that fricking boat. Now all I could do was trying to get out of there pronto!
Pushing my to the ground as I reached the bottom. I made it to the rop.
There it was! the boat did a roundabout and hit me in the face.
I woke up later at the hospital. Wounded but alive! I made it this time too. I was a war...
Nothing is more terrifyingly beautiful than the intensity of a woman's Stare.
Not a gaze or a glace, but a Stare. One that lasts longer than a couple
seconds but no longer than a minute. The kind that cuts its way through
you, making you feel more- and at the same time, less- secure in your
strength as a man.