Drip. Drip. Drip. The blood plopped to the concrete floor like a leaky faucet. He contemplated about the throbbing pain he felt with every plop.
He enjoyed that feeling. Concentrating so much on one pain over and over again. The first time he asked his boyfriend to blindfold him and punch in him the face - his boyfriend thought he was being dirty.
"You like it rough..." he had coyly responded.
The problem was it stopped being about the pleasure and more about the pain. He wanted to feel the warm liquid glop from his mouth and puddle to his...
The elephant dragged its feet. Meanwhile a man with a mustache spun in circles. A pink tutu hung limply around his waist, and the cigar held loosely in his mouth dropped ash onto the pavement. Olivia hated art movies, but she had agreed to join Richard. It was something about him wanting to impress his artsy friends. He didn't even know what all this meant. Olivia was sure that no one in the room did.
It was a little like placing a few blocks in a room and calling it art. She had gone to a museum with Emily recently....
One hundred and eighty thousand pounds. Sterling. Sitting on her dresser, in tight little wads of cash. One hundred and eighty thousand pounds is a lot of money. Hell, before today, one thousand was the absolute maximum I had seen in any one place at one time, and that was in the hands of Stu, the dealer, and he was just flashing it around to show off. One hundred eighty thousand? It damn near crowded everything else off the dresser. And she was just, what, going to leave it there?
"Where's this from?" I asked.
"You know where it's from."...
They were trapped for seven days.
And all he could think about was how stupid and incompetent everyone was. Oh, he could get them out if he wanted to. He'd figured out how in the first 10 minutes the lights went out, the tracks stopped moving, and the world stopped spinning.
But he figured he'd rest down here, in this quiet place where people were sobbing their regrets, anger, pity, sorrow, prayers to each other. Lamenting their pathetic lives as they neared their starved deaths. He could smell the piss by the corner where they'd all mutually agreed to designate...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. I knew what she had done. It was despicable; it made my stomach churn. But there she was, next to me, sleeping soundly, like a baby without a care in the world. Her breathing came in short shallow gasps. Her snores got on my nerves and as I try to sleep all I can think of is what she's done. What I've done, now that I know. I'm part of it. A romantic evening, a shared bottle of Merlot, shared secrets; too much. A night of passion, a night of disgust. Now...
It was an early morning on Wavelike Island. The water was crystal clear and the sky was grey. The water washed up against the shore, creating soothing sounds that echoed all around the Island. The rocks around the island grew more mouldy by the minute from the water crashing up against them. The trees in the distance swayed gently while the sky rumbled with the noise of an oncoming storm.
It started to rain, and a shape appeared in the sky, resembling a bird of some type. People from far away looked at the Island and saw the bird-like shape...
Midnight on the roof of my four storey home.
It wasn’t normal for a vampire to have a phobia about heights. I‘d been stuck up there for a few days now, luckily finding some heavy tarpaulin that shielded me from sunlight during the long hours whilst I tried to think up ways to get myself down. Tried is the operative word. I felt brain dead. Didn't even have a cell phone.
As for telepathy, that's just an urban legend. I've never read anyone's thoughts, nor sensed another like me. I was so grateful for the first time in my life,...
Light shone through the gap in the thick black curtains. I could see people sitting round the table in candlelight holding hands. I knew what they would be thinking, hoping, that the spirits would speak to the woman sitting at the head of the long table. I could easily imagine their desperation, hope, excitement.
Cassandra had been an actress before she took on this role, this deceit which gave her more money and adultation than ever before. These gullible grieving people wrote out checks without ever hearing a message, they just wanted to know someone cared, listened to their hesitant...
Tell her, he told himself. Tell her before it's too late. From a scuffed-over, leather-upholstered chair near the front window, he watched her. She turned the crank on the machine. Or knob. It made a screeching sound. On the counter she banged something hard. Again.
He looked around. No one noticed.
She swiped at the counter, then her hair. She was wearing some kind of kerchief. That's not right, he thought. And scrambled for it, what do they call it: This pleased him.
Haltingly, he crept forward. Praying no one would notice him, because they might stop him before he...
I held it at arm's length. Three feet long from blade to hilt it, the replica Confederate cavalry sword is beautiful. It is etched up and down the length of the blade with scrollwork and in two places with the letters CSA. My heart trembled as I held it loosely, admiring it. I couldn't believe she'd sent me this sword. It is a beautiful birthday present.