Karrie had never worn white in her life. Not the day of her first communion, not even when she'd dressed as a ghost that one Halloween, but yet here she was...
What the hell had she been thinking getting involved with Ken? Really, Ken- like the doll. He wasn't her type at all. He loved tradition and tuxedos and classic rock, while she adored zombies and punk. And him, of course. What had she been thinking?
From the moment she met him, everything about him irritated her. His pigheadedness, his obnoxious sense of humor, his conservative dress. He could be...
My feet ached, but it was well worth it. There was blood on one of my insteps, the left one, and when I walked around the floor I tracked her blood around with me. The room, nothing more than an abattoir, had fit the bill perfectly. There was the pen I'd led her to. I said nothing more than, "You'll like it. It's the spookiest little spot." And she had crawled inside without the least hesitation. And as soon as she did so, the smile left my face, and the grimace reappeared, and I thought, "This is for all those...
"What is it you have to do again?"
Richard pointed at the screen. "You have to get the butterflies to land on that tree."
"Which one, the one on the left?"
"No," he said, "the other one, the little one."
His son crossed his arms. "Dad, this game is so lame! I don't see how you could have played this thing. The graphics suck!"
"Hey, this is 16-bit resolution! You should have seen some of the old 8-bit side-scrolling games. The graphics on them were even worse, but they were all we had. And do you hear those sound effects?"...
The Moon would never be the same again.
Sure, nothing important in its construction had changed. It was still the same old mass of rock hanging on an ever-decaying orbit around the larger mass of rock that we call home. But it was different.
Maybe the giant structure unfolding on its surface had something to do with it.
This mission had taken years to even green-light, never mind anything else. But now, we were here. Standing on the moon, with a base. It wasn't anything special, though. We were heading to Mars with a similar base the next week.
But...
Potatoes.
That's all the six year old girl would eat. And it seemed that no matter what else I tried to serve her, potatoes was it. She wouldn't try anything else. Wouldn't look at anything else. All she ever wanted? Potatoes.
"Honey, what are we supposed to do?" I sighed, sliding into bed that night. "We went out to the Olive Garden. And she asked for potatoes!"
My husband chuckled a little. "Well, look on the bright side: at least it's a vegetable she wants. Could be worse."
"This is bad enough! No protein! No grain! Heck, even sugar would...
Monica Mistaikov
I stood on the old wooden bed I always slept in. There was always a window up high and I would always look up to it at noon and see the clock chime. There were so much out there waiting for me to learn. I wanted to go out there, explore the world, make friends. But I couldn't, because I can’t. Where I am from is a powerful city, Nastavbriki. This city, we have to protect it with our lives so no rebels come. But my anonymous parents dropped me to an orphanage when I was very...
Its iron heart broke in two each time it welcomed a visitor. Ironic.
Its sign was officious but it's symbolism romantic. Just like any heart, it was forged by mixed signals.
"Enter me. Break my heart in two. Leave. Break my heart again. I am only whole when I have nothing or everything."
"But once you get inside, if you have ignored my words and pulled open my heavy gates, you will still be facing a brick wall. And you may feel a moment of blank indifference that reaches inside of you and takes your hope. But before you turn...
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...
It was hard to be in the elegant room, trying not to move while the crowd swarm around him. George stifled a sigh. If he wasn't getting the eight dollars an hour, he wouldn't have put up with the gawking crowds.
All he had to do was stand still for thirty minutes at a time, dressed as Napoleon. Simple, mindless, perfect job for George. No heavy lifting, no math, nothing that should have embarrassed him. But the crowds, God they were enough for him to scream.
"Who's that?" a snot nosed little girl asked a man, that hopefully was her...
Nightmare. The officers had never seen anything like it. Rushing from the house they vomited not caring who could see. Ryan, only a week on the job, knew this career choice was over.
Nightmare. Samantha Walters did not know where to begin. As a psychic employed secretly by the force, she volunteered her services for his job even though the circumstances were the most horrific she had ever heard about. She did not last the day.
Nightmare. The neighbours all decided to sell up.
Nightmare. The police chief discussing the case had a nervous breakdown.
Nightmare. The photo journalists first...