I awoke to the sound of waves, big waves slamming against the walls of the... house? No, boat. It was definitely a boat. I struggled to get up, as if I had been sleeping for one thousand years, and when I did, I met my room mate. He didn't say much, just a slight nod in my direction, as he made his bed. When he turned around, I grimaced at the large hole in his back. Only then did I realize that I had a cut on my head. More like a gash really, I was so gruesome. That's when...
I found the small book when we had to pack Grandpa's things so he could move out of that old house, and into an old people's apartment building. Mom said it would be better for him there, people could watch him and take care of him. Better care than she could, she said.
I said I could do it, but she said I had to go to school, and I never even walked the dog before he went to live on that farm we see on the side of the highway between our house and Grandpa's.So how could I expect...
As I clench the sweet smelling flowers in my hand, I stare into his perfect emerald eyes.
In this moment I remember why I love him so much. Every moment that I am with him, I feel warm, comfortable, free.
The sun smiles at me and the breeze sings a song that calms my racing heart, though I do not know why it is racing. I look down to see his emerald eyes, now staring up at me. I am captured by them, though then I am drawn to something else- his hands. Within them lay a velvet navy box....
They gathered in the woods.
The circle wasn't complete. It probably wouldn't be - they were a dying breed, a dying art.
None of them were sure if the ceremony did anything - if it ever had. The elder members of the group - the ones who were dying out, the ones who were disappearing before they could share enough information to perpetuate them - claimed that it had worked, that it still worked, but the magic was dying with the belief.
The youngest walked the path of the circle, her bare feet already dirty, her old dress (torn, ruined,...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. The asassin tracked the victim across the city, determined to finish his mission. He slid through the shadows, his black clothing blending perfectly with the night. Suddenly, the victim stopped. The killer was on alert at once. he lifted the 45. caliber and readied himself to pull the trigger. Suddenly, it all went black. He had been knocked to the gr
The footprints in the snow suddenly ended. Or rather, the snow ended, suddenly and strangely. The footsteps continued, singed into the dry winter grass. Black footsteps continued, an at an even pace, all the way to the dunes.
At first, I thought that they would disappear at the sand, but as I got closer, I saw that they had continued, but the sheer heat had melted the sand into glass. Glass footsteps, glittering and shining, clearly the shape of a human foot, worked their way over the dunes, without any seeming regard for the angle of the dune. I climbed...
He counted the cards in his hand, five: an ace of spades, a king of spades, ten of diamonds, nine of diamonds, and a two of clubs. His lips were terse and his eyes sunk deep into his head, staring at the hand he was dealt. Clearing his throat, he bunched the cards up, fanned them out, and bunched them up again, lightly tapping the small deck against the table. The game was poker, ace high, and John only had his land to back him up. John thought that if a man didn't have any money, well, at least he...
She followed the footsteps that wound through the snow; the clouds that brushed across the moon's face alternately limning and hiding them. A shudder rippled through her as the wind bit deep and the faint trail of her steady breath formed and faded behind her. At the edge of the trees, she halted and focused intently on the figure crouched in the center of the clearing. Arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his head bent, not a flicker of movement betrayed him.
She unzipped her jacked and tugged off her gloves, letting them fall to the ground. The soft...
The room faded away around her, the bed, the dressers, the walls and windows, disappeared, faded out, until the only thing he saw was her standing there. A sheet twisted demurely around her body. Hair falling haphazardly. Chin tucked in slightly, eyes looking up and beckoning with each slow flap of her eyelashes.
Nothing else existed, just her and him and the unbearable distance between them.
The sheet shifted, her leg emerged, bent at the knee. She spun slowly to face him. Walking forward, unbuttoning his shirt, kicking his shoes off and into the white void surrounding them.
The emptiness...
They come here every year. They come in droves to see the battlefields where good men gave their lives defending their land from the invading horde. They tromp over our sacred grounds, "ooh!" and "aah" at our homes - those that survived - and snicker at the descendants of those good, defeated soldiers who sound so different than them, yet speak the same language. But, their money is good I guess. And, looking around at the world today, at he end of a Republic turned fallen Empire, I can take some satisfaction that their hubris will soon be as dust...