The sheep were at pasture, but the shepherds were gone. They had made a deal with the wolves to let them have a portion of their herd just to be left alone.
That night, the wolves slowly approached the pasture, their long canines shining as they approached their soon-to-be meal. Heavy paws crunched against the dirt and grass as low rumbles started in their throats.
The sheep were at pasture, but the shepherds were gone. The wolves would feast well tonight.
The sheep were at pasture, but the shepherds were gone. And the sheep were not sheep anymore. They were...
She could listen all day. The raspy, melancholy vocals of the demo tape was not without flaws, but in this moment, perfectly delectable. Her own voice was breathtaking to her; after all, how often did she experience a conversational sing-a-long with herself? The sound was a breath of fresh air, nothing she inhale here, in the muggy city, at her perfunctory job, or with her otherwise dull life.
This was the sound of butterflies.
He was a walking arsenal with knives strapped to his armor at forearms, biceps, chest and back. Two smaller throwing knives protruded from his boots. Across his back, a large Claymore peeked over his head.
He was a walking arsenal. Deadly. Powerful. Angry at the world. His deep black eyes burned with flame. His lantern jaw was clenched with determination. He eld himself erect, his arms resting easily at his sides. Suddenly, the call came and he swept into the undead hordes ahead of him, knives leading the way. His word came out at the last instant, slashing through the...
It was the fall that surprised me the most.
The winter, she was fine. Spring, slowly getting sick, Summer, even sicker.
In fall, she fully recovered from stage 3 liver cancer. There was someone to thank. God or someone.
It could have been the praying, or just hoping we didn't lose her. She was only 7. 7-year-olds aren't supposed to just die from liver cancer. Ella's better now, though. It's easy to believe in something when a dying child makes a full recovery from something so evil as that.
So God, or someone, thank you. It was God or someone...
The acid was insanely potent this time. I was in my Halloween costume, dressed as a soldier of all things. This was no time for games. Shea was waiting for me in the basement, or maybe she was being gangraped by a pack of orthodox jewish gangsters, and waiting for me just the same. DOWN I pressed. DOWN goddamnit this is taking forever. Sitting in this elevator for what seems like an eternity. 12th floor. Man with dog. Hello dog. Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something in my teeth. Oh, the skin is burned...
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...
The seven of them gathered around the long dinner table and silently shuffled the serving platters clockwise. Mechanical arms held, then spooned and dropped food, taping the edge lightly against the plate. Then back in the dish and passed the person to their left, and they received from the right.
Pitchers of iced water sat sweating in the middle, surrounded by short glasses, and borders by salt and pepper shakers and piles of napkins.
When all the plates were filled and the serving dishes stopped moving they leaned their heads down and a silent prayer ran from the moving lips....
What would happen if I just left in the middle of the night?
He wouldn't remember you when he got older.
A price would need to be paid, but I don't know about him completely forgetting.
Personally, I think you should go.
He loped into the night, thinking and rubbing his too soft hands face, never quite sure if he had been slapped in the face.
"Eff off rain! I want a tan, not for my green shirt to get wet!"
Spinning this wasn't going to be easy, Simon thought, suddenly conscious of his thumping heartbeat. What on earth was going to come out of his mouth? Oh well, sometimes you just have to plunge in and have faith that the words will come.
He stepped out of the wings and into the bright floodlights, smiling his confident way up to the podium. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Many of you will have seen the election results by now. . ."