"Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked
"No I don't." she replied
"You're about to."
The doors opened wide with their bottoms scrapping across the wooden panelled floor. The light shone out in a thing line and then a bigger line and then a rectangle and then eclipsed the entire room in thick white light.
She turned to him with fear in her eyes. She was quaking in her little boots, her little hands started shaking too, she searched for comfort. He held out his hand.
"All good things" he started, require a leap of faith..."
She looked him in...
As I walked around town with my boyfriend, I noticed a pound. I walked up to it, looking into through the glass. I noticed a puppy looking very sad. I walked into the pound with my boyfriend yelling my name while trailing behind me. I walked up to the puppy, not bothered by anyone trying to greet me. I picked up the puppy and the puppy licked my face. I giggled as I looked at my boyfriend who was looking at me in awe. I looked at the puppy again and noticed it's tag. It showed the price of the...
The visitor asked, "Can you write a story without a prompt?"
"I don't know," said the writer. "I've never tried."
"Really? You mean all those stories you wrote arose from something you'd seen or heard?"
"Or something I'd read. Tasted. Felt. Wondered about."
"And the novels? The poems? That terrible album you wrote and recorded?"
The writer smiled. "Yes, all of them. I need to have something to start from, some germ of a concept that I can build on. It's like the way a jazz musician riffs off a set theme. They start with what they have and make...
The last I saw of the angel was at sunrise yesterday. I knew that one day I'd meet him again, the certainty was so strong that the actual date and time felt on the tip of my tongue. Morgan is the name he gave me. Morgan Freemantle. He appeared at my side just when I needed some one the most, when my sister collapsed on our long walk away from our home, the abuse, neglect.
As I was comforting her, smoothing her long blond hair away from her sweating face, telling her everything would be ok even though we were...
Not that I mind being dead. It's nothing to be saved from, really. Oh, at first believe me, I railed against it, bracing myself for whatever fight or hell lay before me. But after about an hour it seemed pretty clear to me that nothing was going to happen.
Literally, nothing happens when you are dead. To from your own view point anyway. Granted, I do not have a body to call my own anymore, but being dead feels surprisingly like being alive does. Only with less worry. And not taxes of course.
But if you can read this, and...
As Thomas was smoking in an alleyway, he heard a scream. He walked out of the alleyway slowly, being observant of his surroundings. He then heard the scream again, he followed the sound of the scream until he heard it grow louder. Thomas took out his umbrella as a weapon, he looked into the alleyway and saw nothing. He looked behind him then looked back and entered the alleyway again. He looked around and all he could see was trash cans or some cardboard boxes. He looked straight ahead and saw a man being cornered by someone wearing all black....
It was a swarm. They were trying to get in. Surrounding the house. I was running frantically throughout the house, making sure every window and small crevice was locked and closed up. Leaving no gap, or space to get in. The house was air-tight. After a while, the buzzing stopped. The swarm died down, I was safe. I walk outside to double check and I hear one last buzz, closer than ever, as if it was in my ear. It was on my shoulder. I pick it up and see a little insect. It's wings were long, it had a...
It would be a long walk. To no where. Ending some where. A where long off. Tulle of mist. Footage of stage. A wide glow of white pixels condensing to green. Corridors of sparkling black. A long walk but he took it.
Wine. Specifically, white. She hated white wine. She wanted red. The buzzing warm feeling was building. Building the way it had when she'd been inside the LHC doing maintenance. No one knew she'd been there. No one could explain how she'd survived. Then in a blink, she hadn't been. That was when she realised something Quantum had happened.
She perceived a reality where the waiter had gotten the wrong bottle from the shelf, picking red instead of the sought for white. He'd lose his job later that day for continued disobedience. His wife would commit suicide in four months, when...
She didn't want to look at him. Disappointment felt too strong to even hint the large, garish gold necklace with square green stones was the wrong choice. She knew how much it cost, not only in money but all those lonely nights for her whilst he was working late.
Moments later he looked at her wide smile, accepted wet kisses, felt her large breasts pressing into him. For once, he knew that this was the best present ever. The pretty sales assistant was right, she was deliriously happy with the necklace. It would look fabulous with the new green, tight...