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...
Spinning. Spinning. Spinning. That is all she knows now.
"You'll become dizzy soon," he whispers in her ear. She smiles deliriously as he turns her around, spins her again. His hands, big and strong, fit around her waist perfectly.
"Spin," she tells him. "Spin." Again he twirls her. She is tiny in front of him. She smiles again.
The world has become a colorful blur around her. In this spinning she can forget everything. Maybe her past blurs behind her now, and all the lies blur into something deeper, into truth. Maybe this way everything can blur and blur till...
Knives.
Knives.
What was she going to use them on next?
The silver blades shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, capturing her image on the blades before she turned away to grab another freshly scrubbed potato from the colander in the gleaming, porcelain sink. Chop chop chop, went the blade, smooth up-and-down motions repeated again and again, reducing the vegetable before her into ever smaller and smaller bits.
She loved these new knives, worth every penny. It made her want to chop other things, to test their abilities, to watch the thin blades slice through produce, flesh,...
When Martin woke up, he was still in the back of the van. He didn't know, how long he was unconscious. He couldn't see anything but darkness, but he heard and felt, that the van was still driving. After a while, his eyes started to make out some details in the dark, when he spotted a tine hole in the van, through which a little light came in. He pressed his face onto the aluminum wall and tried his best to make out some details about his whereabouts. At first, all he could see was white, but then he spotted...
"Well...that happened," thought the little pup as he watched his owner be eaten by a sharktopus. At least, he thought it was a sharktopus. His owner had been talking about it over and over again to random objects in the house like the small, hard thing that glows and vibrates every five minutes or the really loud block that holds the other block. He did very much like his owner, but he was often quite dumbfounded at his owner's abilities. For instance, whenever talking to him, his owner changed his voice as if he were someone else. Sometimes, when he...
They think they can just buy me off.
They think that a lifetime's supply of biscuits and chew-toys is enough to purchase my silence. But they are wrong. I am the victim here, a victim of horrible negligence and criminal stupidity.
The researchers in the lab that day were operating sensitive equipment while violating the clearly defined safety procedures. My lawyer assures me that if we take my case to court, they'll be ruined. And that's just what's going to happen; I'm going to make them pay for what they did to me.
It boggles my small(er) mind; why would...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
A thumb fell out.
But whose thumb was it?
Wasn't hers.
Wasn't mine.
Wasn't her husband's.
She checked each of her children's fingers and toes.
All twenty of them.
When she was assured that all the digits she cared about were accounted for, she stopped shaking.
What a lousy piece of mail.
Who would send her such a thing?
Had she made any enemies lately?
Was this a warning?
Maybe they got the wrong address.
She checked the front of the envelope.
Envers Household
1234 Lane
Somewhere, City USA
That was her address alright....
Fault.
The window?
The guardrail that gave way?
The father who opened the window earlier?
The mother who moved the ottoman too close to the window?
The gate that inexplicably stopped being baby-proof that night?
The nanny who ran into the other room to grab his bottle?
The parents who were away at a colleague's baby shower?
The decision to buy an apartment on the 15th floor?
The gusty winds that day?
The decision to go to the party?
The invite?
"Why the rush?"
A hand grazes the back of my neck, pulling my hair away. Warm breath sticks to the back of my ear and the skin of my neck. I stiffen. That voice is so familiar. I hear a shift to my right and then feel a hand wrap around mine. I jerk it to my side.
"What's the matter?"
I barely hear the words when my body shudders it's disgust. My eyes squeeze shut and I take a step forward. Then two steps. Then three. I don't stop at the door or at the road or anything. I...
She was the most delicate girl in town. Or at least, that's what they all thought. With her prim private school uniform, glossy ringlet curls and polite smile, she had them all fooled. Everyone except me. Noone knew her like I did though. Sharing a bedroom gives an unprecedented view into a person's inner psyche. I'm not just talking about dirty washing left on the floor and mugs growing mould, though that's gross enough. It's not even just the boys, or increasingly lately - men, she would shimmy down the drain pipe to meet. It's not even that her straight...