The gate closed behind them. It was too late, she knew it. How did they get here? Why did it have to end this way?
"Jamie, it's okay. They won't find us here."
She wanted to believe him. She tried to believe him. She couldn't. They corner they hid in was dark, damp, dirty. She didn't have to wait long.
As the latch opened on the outside gate, Sean starting shaking. He can't handle this, Jamie thought.
"We're going to die, aren't we?" he asked.
Jamie considered lying, but what would be the point? She put her arms around him...
"Hey! You! Jackass!"
Geoff was trying to make eye contact -- or, failing that, ear contact -- with the ferris wheel operator below. Geoff and Jo had been stuck at the top of the ride for more than five minutes now. And the effort might not have been so much in vain were they not surrounded by a cage.
No response. Of course.
"Will you knock it off?" asked Jo. "He'll get to it when he gets to it."
"It's just. Gah!" Geoff started rocking the ride. Back and forth, back and forth, the range of motion increasing each time....
100 feet away I watched the smugglers struggle to get over the jagged stones, collapse onto the wet sand, expel salt water from their lungs and pray to whatever gods they believed they had reached shore alive.
Frank De Libre was the youngest and most sober on the galleon. Swimming for freedom, literally. Kidnapped two years beforehand from his parent's home, watched his tutor die trying to save him.
I could see everything as the images appeared like a slide show. This was the fifth time I had undergone hypnosis and finally my lifetime of phobias had been explained.
Coincidentally,...
Decked out in a tight green speedo, Charles swung open his screen door, strutted down the three concrete stairs into his dilapidated back yard and was instantly wet.
The rain occupied every inch of sky. Somewhere there must be sun, but not in Indiana. Charles watched the clouds slumber in their beds, unmoving. Now was noon though, and soon would be two PM. These were prime tanning hours, and how, how, did Charles need a tan.
Hosts of elder-cruises were always tan, and this being his first elder-cruise, he was going to be a tan host. As an elder himself...
Midnight on the Roof. That's where he'll be. I know Santa Claus is real. I know that because he's my Dad.
It was small things at first. I made a list:
1) A wistful smile on Mum's lips each Christmas Eve.
2) The way she hummed "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus" without noticing.
3) The fact we ALWAYS put out cookies and beer for him before Christmas Day. And a carrot for Rudolf.
4) My last real memory of him dressed in his large red gown and hat with white fur trim telling Mum he had to go. His...
So, give me more details, sweetie. No, not that kind of detail!
Where'd you go? What'd you eat? What'd you wear? Come on, babe, we need more, more, more!
Did he pay? Wait, I need to light up...ok, go. Credit card? Flashy. You're kidding - champagne? On a first date? Seriously flashy.
Ok, so what next? Did he leave a tip? No way, cheapskate! Bet they remember him there anyway.
And where'd he take you? His flat? What, the old "my mother's staying with me so we've got to go to a hotel" line? You're kidding - no-one really says...
"Now, tell me again," said the attractive blond in the black-rimmed glasses, "why do you think you're a super villain?"
Her patient sighed. He was draped across her leather couch, one hand hanging limp over its side, grazing the lush carpet as though it was soft grass.
The therapist chewed on her pencil and waited.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" he said. "I'm a scientist. I come from a long line of super villainy, and it's up to me to keep up the family reputation." He turned on his side to gaze at her. "Have I...
I stand on the fine sand, gazing out to sea. We stood here before, didn't we? You and I. Younger, then. Innocent perhaps. Lovers learning about each other in those early days.
The time we spent on this beach was perfect. Like an advert on TV for far flung luxurious holidays. Our own private paradise. We didn't want it to end, did we?
A man walks past. Dressed in green trunks, he glances at me. I signal to him and buy. He's feeling lucky now. Selling watermelon and coconut is not easy at this time of year. I feast on...
He set the plate before her. He watched her eat it clean.
"Where have you been?" he wanted to know.
Instead he said, "It's good to see you again."
She nodded at him, said something about being tired, bouncing around too many places, too many people. But he only heard, "I've spent every free moment with him, letting that stranger come inside me."
So his response probably sounded non-sequitur to her. "When's the last time you had a weekend to yourself?"
"A while. I don't know how long."
"Four weekends," he thought. "The weekend before that we went to the...
His sister was meddling. Always meddling, it never stopped. Turning the milk sideways in the fridge and dumping out the day-old onions. Those were for tomorrow's hot dog.
She caught him. Caught him with his pants down. His figurative pants. It was his hands that were dirty, elbow deep in a sewer - a sick, all too real version of Dirty Jobs. A bad boyfriend, he had three jobs, two girlfriends, and only one sandwich - it was the sandwich that pushed him over the edge. Salami, no cheese - where was that plunger. She knew he had to have...