Where am I going? thought Harold Sunday as he sped through yet another red light. The intersection blurred behind him, he couldn't believe the sensation of time slowing the quicker he travelled. Marty McFly may have travelled through time in a DeLorean, but Harold blew him away with his long-distance journey in a Ford Focus. It may not have been as snazzy, but at least he could open the doors inside his garage - low ceiling be damned. At first, travelling faster than the speed of sound was disconcerting; his radio wouldn't even work, despite its being inside the car's...
The gate closed behind them. Ahead of them stood the fearsome Morley house, said to be haunted with the ghosts of the former occupants, who had been killed years ago.
Jana, the youngest of the four, turned pale. "Are you sure it's safe to be here?"
The second-oldest, Robert, scoffed, "There's no such thing as ghosts."
"I'm more worried about Dad finding out we're not in bed," Jason, the second-youngest, said.
"You guys are such wusses. C'mon!" Angela, the oldest, ran up the hill to the house, opening the door. As soon as she stepped in, though, she ran out...
monster was close behind, groaning with teh weight of its recent feeding. The awnings above shuddered witht eh raor, the inhuman aching roar of a beast long gone from the mortal realm. The man gripped his shoulder, a wound sputtering orange-red blood. The beast hunted my scent and fear, grasping at the walls of the citadel with its massive tendrils.
A mouth emerged from its muddied hide, screaming with the fuel of nightmares and horrific things. It was the face of a child, crying and in seconds, it was swallowed back into the amorpheous body of the beast. The man...
Sarah draped a second blanket over her shoulders and cupped her hands over her mouth. She huffed on her fingers in an attempt to warm some feeling back into her frozen digits. It had only been three days since the power had been cut off, but already her apartment felt as if it had never been heated. When she had woken that morning, she had felt as if she were lying on a block of ice instead of a bed, and upon finally slipping from beneath her inadequate duvet, she had been shocked to see that frost had formed on...
2070. Man enters final stages of the information age! The shortest technological age of human history. With the global bandwidth of each home computer reaching a collective average of 1GB per-second, cell phones capable of literally recording an entire persons life, from womb-to-tomb, and neural implants giving humans longevity and superior thinking processes. The information age, though a short yet potent time, is nearing it's end. Soon we will be entering the space age. With the completion of the atmospheric tower, which will eliminate the need for rocket propulsion in order to leave our beautiful planet.
With a sharp, breathy hiss, the seal of the airlock broke, and Simon felt the cool Earth air blow across his face.
Well, technically he didn't feel it, but his suit's sensors recorded data on the air; its composition, pressure, and temperature.
It was the first time a human had set foot on the planet in over two centuries. The Consumption had taken total control over the planet in 2077, rendering it uninhabitable. The survivors had fled to Mars and the Jovian colonies just before the air itself had been sucked away to feed the relentless multiplying of the microscopic...
Sarah felt a little guilty. This wasn't her bed after all. But to each his own. This isn't some pink kiddie playgroundworld where cotton candy feeds you until your next meal, and mommy and daddy are there to catch you when you scrape your knee. In this world, houses are foreclosed, children are taken away by Children's Services, and husbands beat you after a late night out with beer. If you're lucky, he passes out before you have to fight him and shout NO. In this world, anything is possible, things you couldn't fathom happening to you as a 7-year-old...
My head is pounding, three days of this. The wind has been blowing. I look out my office window and it is either the eye of the storm with it's fits and starts or we're near the end of it. The trees are bending, but there are little black leaves, birds. They're sitting swaying in the tree, calm. When they fly off, they all fly off. Its like watching a school of fish. One makes a subtle turn that sets off a wave and undulation.
Its an eerie view, because suddenly I thought of those childhood explorations in the woods...
Cameras lie. Greasy gray hair shining with oil tied back with a cheap rubber band. XXL sized elastic joggers pulled over a stained white t-shirt, the underarms looking greeny yellow. Round face, tiny eyes. Arms folded trying to hide the belly.
Security rushing onto the stage, standing between Sonia and her tormentors, skinny family members disgusted with her appearance and laziness.
Sonia reliving her bravery, assertiveness finally expressing deep held thoughts and emotions. Given the space and security to speak.
Now watching the tape she could not recognise the overweight woman. She was thin wasn't she? She did not even...
Sophie stood at the window, the curtains snug around her shoulders,trailing behind like a dress, or veil. The sun was dipping down behind the trees across the way.
He should be home by now, she thought, chewing the already ravaged thumbnail on her right hand.
She thought about the fight they had the night before. How she had held onto the seeds of those feelings for so long they had germinated and grew and soon the roots were twisted around with her insides, and the branches and leaves moved with her arms.
The anger had grown and become parasitic. And...