2070 grains of rice. For six people. To last six weeks.
Less than 60 grains of rice per week.
No water too cook it with. All the water is too polluted.
We don't even have canned beans anymore.
What if you were one of these six people?
Maybe you could save your brother, child, or friend by sacrificing your own life.
Would they eat you??
Maybe, but at least you would no longer feel the pain of your body slowly eating itself.
Would you really be saving your family, your friends?
After all, there is no guarantee of another 2700...
You can count me out. In teaspoons if you wish, but it might take a while. I prefer metric, none of that standard or imperial nonsense, it's just not scientific.
You can count me out, I'm certainly in the process of it. Measuring it all, repurposing the materials to a better purpose. 3.7 litres of potable water, the rest bound up in organs or areas that I have not processed yet. 2.5 grams of iron, perhaps that will go to the electromagnet I am constructing, perhaps to the dynamo. But what am I saying? It will have to go to...
Sarah's excitement about back-packing around the world had been building for months as her departure date grew closer. With this came an ever increasing list of things to do and more importantly to Sarah, things to buy, she didn't afterall want to be the least fashionable backpacker in Peru, despite other friends who'd gone on similar adventures telling her 'Once you get there, you won't care what you look like.' So hours and hours later of jamming her backpack with the latest boho looks from Urban Outfitters, 10 pairs of shoes and 10 bangles, Sarah's mother came into the room...
Prison is for mossy bricks, reinforced iron bars, decrepid toilets and savage guards beating on the door every morning. How can it be anything else?
And yet, within the confines of this framework, there is a nook as tangible as any cell; the walls are closing in on me, invisible monsters lurking in the dark, only — these are worse than any monster imaginable, for they do not breathe, do not reason. You can't reason with walls.
The post seemed like a good idea at the time, for who doesn't dream of directing such a large, historic enterprise if given...
She didn't look at him. She couldn't look at him. What would he think? she wondered as she sipped her wine and kept her eyes averted while he looked at her steadily, scratching his prematurely grey beard. "What's wrong?" he asked in his tenor voice.
"Nothing," she lied, and felt guilty for it.
"Come on," Mark said. He rolled over to Mary, took her hand and squeezed it gently. "We've been friends since we were kids, darlin'. You can tell me anything. Just like I can tell you anything."
"I love you," she blurted. Mark blinked at her as she...
I'm lost.
The corn fields turned into and endless turning of green upon green, and I couldn't run because the leaves had become blades.
I've stopped walking. I've stopped screaming. Screaming only made me thirsty, and I even tried tearing a corn leaf to pieces to suck on something, anything. I tried to pull an ear and when I pulled the leaves back, a handful of black ear wigs fell onto my lap, pincher butts spread wide. I wiped them off and ran.
Something cut my upper arm.
I lay now, staring at the sky, it's gone from gray to...
Dancing dreams over streams of lightning. My brain is fried rice; your hands delightening. Totally cavernous, and almost incestuous; your wrists are bound by mustard eloquence. Queens beans scenes on stages; pages without wages, and slaves in conclaves. Your anus my innards, your penis, my skin hurts just thinking about your gym shoes on my lips; your sweaty cunt on my knee. You picked me up by my underwear and hung my on some trees. I spit on your lungs, my farts on your tongues. Some senses smell and some fences swell. Your ass hurts? My toes squirt. This is...
With a roar of displaced air and grinding gears, the blast shields protecting the gun emplacements retracted, and the defensive batteries opened fire. A river of hot lead and explosive ordnance spewed forth at the oncoming creature.
It barely stumbled. What didn't explode harmlessly against its armored carapace whistled by as its eldritch powers deflected the bulk of the barrages.
Attack helicoptors and missile-laden jets zoomed by, but they were mere gnats to the attacker. It lumbered ever closer to the fortress.
General Davis grimaced as a swipe of its claws downed an entire Blackhawk squadron. It wouldn't be long...
.. 2080 ... 2090 ... 2100. 2100 NE Swenson Avenue, that was the address. Harold was certain of it. He could almost feel an unnatural attraction to the simple white door with blue finish that innocently faced the street, surrounded by colorful flower pots.
A hesitant step after another, his heart pounding, he approached it. His thoughts were hundreds of miles away, in his home country, where his family was held hostage. They were watching his every move, listening to his every breath. If he failed, his wife and children would die.
His hand rested on the doorknob. The windows...