Silence.
The vicar cleared his throat. 'Do you Isabella Riley take....'
'I heard you.' she said, suddenly reappearing from the dream world which had captivated. 'I er... I don't.'
Suddenly aware of a hundred pairs of eyes, she took a deep breath. Ben's mouth fell open. Shock visibly clear on his face.
'Iz?'
'don't Ben.' she murmured. She had to get out of this church. She couldn't possibly marry him. Be commited to one man for the rest of her life. She just couldn't do it.
'But Iz. What? I mean, why?'
'I'm sorry Ben. I really am so, so...

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White sky. The sky was so white. Sky-white. Sky-writing white smoke in the white sky.

But the bayou was blue. I'm humming it now. Bayou-blue. The snapped crayon read "you-blue."

I wanted to say something. What do I want to say. I raced through my mind looking for a word. Where is it?

What is it?

Sky-white? Bayou-blue. Nah, neither of them. I want to say "succumb" or "parse". Maybe "grenadine"?

I peeled the surface of the bayou up like a t-shirt transfer. But too soon. The corner wrinkled.

The sky went blue

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I, Emily Agha just received my acceptance to UNSW and flowers from my beloved fiancee. Everything was going well. My fiancee and her where driving home until suddenly Josh went to fast. He may have been drunk. One little mistake can turn into a big one. "I'll always remember you Josh". I don't remember much from that night, all I remember is the sound of sirens, a few heartbeats and Josh's voice telling me he was sorry. His last words were "find someone, please." I'm thirty now and am still single. I still have all his bits and bobs that...

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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...

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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...

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Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.

Passersby ignored the frail, shivering thing, their eyes never dropping, their heads never turning. She might have been a doll in a window, or something someone left behind. She wasn't any of their business.

A little round boy with a little round face in his little grey jacket wrapped around his little round belly poked at the girl with his little round foot.

The girl, who wasn't much older than he, looked up from the protective valley of her arms and smiled at him. The little...

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Giving in wasn't an option. "2,4,6,8! We don't want to integrate!" shouted his T-Shirt. Well, the left hand side. The right blared out "We're ALL in this (body) together…"

Both the Prosecution and the Defence barristers sighed at the witness's garb, shuffled papers, breathed slowly, and were grateful he was wearing anything at all. Both were getting paid. From the same bank account, in fact. They both rose as the Right Honourable Judge Jewel took  in the room, and then her seat.

The clerk stood and announced in a notably less bored tone than usual, "Giles #3 versus Giles #1,2...

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In hindsight, the solution was obvious.
It was staring me right in the face the entire time but for some reason I had a hard time coming to terms with it.
It wasn't really his fault, in a way I guess you could say it was my fault. I was the one who always wanted to try new things and that night, he had been nowhere to be found. I jumped in with both feet, never once thinking about the consequences.
It was easy for me, I had no ties to anyone or anything. Well except for him.
He, on...

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Bombs were the last thing on his mind. The first thing on his mind was an egg salad sandwich. Then bombs. He had exactly two things on his mind.
He was a very simple fellow, a bomb enthusiast who ate nothing but egg salad sandwiches. He didn't even have a proper name. Just He. Sometimes He answered to His or Him, depending on the tense.
There was a bomb in the bedroom and, being a bomb enthusiast, he was enthused by this. The only way to defuse the bomb was to eat the fuse. The fuse was not an egg...

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Look, I admit, I'm at least partly responsible for the situation. It's my fault I'M here, and not his, er, mine.

The pronouns can get really confusing, so maybe I should just back up. It's not easy being a clone, or, shall I say a time-displaced duplicate of him. I mean, of myself (see?). The accident happened a while ago, really long enough for him, the other me, to get used to it. We both decided that we'd stay in the same house and have the same life; he owed me that much, for saving his (my) life.

I DON'T...

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