The words hovered beneath my glowing finger, power incarnate. I lifted the text, spinning it lazily in the air, before hurling the curse at the image of my nemesis.

The photo I had ripped from the backcover of her book dissolved, dripping onto the table, her face hideously deformed, the black ink staining the tablecloth beneath.

"She thinks she can write horror," I said, the deathly silence of the basement swallowing my words. "She doesn't know what horror is." I smiled. "Yet."

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It was the fall that surprised me most.

Helping is the one thing I always thought I was best at. Hearing thank you is one of the things I'd actually pay money for; in fact I do, because I never click that box on my tax forms that would get me paid back for donations. Although, come to think of it, I could have clicked that box and then used to money paid back to donate somewhere else. I'll have to look into that, if I ever have money again.

It started with a smile. I'm a sucker for a...

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The power of flight could be transferred.

When Marisa first discovered this, she was thrilled. As far as she knew, other 'birds' could only fly themselves, the envy of other humans. Being part of the elite wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Envy was a problem. Bitterness led to hate led to violence.

Her mother had told her to hide her abilities, that others would fear and resent her. But this new ability changed everything; didn't it? Instead of hating her, she could grant that power to others. What wouldn't those stranded on the land give to be...

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I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.

It occurred a while back, and while I was living, I thought it was pretty unfair. Most people get 60, 70 years of life. Enough people got 30 or 40 years of life.

I got 25. By the time you're 25, you're only finally getting your last degree, your first bit of experience, stepping over that last big stone in your path before you enter the real world. The one where you earn enough money to do...

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I counted the Braille dots on the "DOWN" button for the 43rd time.

Then I counted them for the 44th time.

And the 45th time...

No longer satisfied with simply counting the dots themselves (there are always 18), I was now counting my counts, which, at least, were never the same, though always increasing.

Have you ever been stuck in an elevator? Neither have I. I am inexperienced with this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do while stuck in an elevator. I don't know what other people do when stuck in an elevator. I don't know what Jesus...

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Sal couldn't breathe. And he couldn't stand running through a huge group of people. They didn't have much to hurry for. Some of them were walking calmly to trains, while others were meeting thier loved ones after riding in on one.

He was the only idiot in the place litteraly pushing through people. He would have to apologize to the old lady with the walker he knocked flat on her butt later. Right now, Karen was his main focus.

Karen. She left Salvadore a message on his answering machine. Something about leaving him, because she couldn't keep playing house anymore....

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Captive. Surrounded by watr, the woman could not breathe, could not fight, could not even open her eyes. Her waist was bound and her feet were weighted and she was sinking. Soon to be erased.

The man in the boat had asked her one last question before he rolled her out. Now, sinking like a parachuter, she did not think about her little boy at home, or her parents (they would be so sad), or all the things she would leave behind. No. Her last moments, the last grains of sand in her proverbial hourglass, and Mari was thinking about...

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Her breath rose from her body in swirls of ash. The air wheezed from her as you would expect the air would travel through a burnt husk of a body. Each night she burned, crumbling into herself, waking in a bright fury with the morning sun. Some called her a phoenix, a goddess of the volcano, Pelée.

I was a lowly stream, trembling, trickling in her wake. The heat of her caused my innards to boil, and the creatures would leave me. The earth heaved with her breath, the tumbling rocks rolling, the sparks floating away with the grace of...

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The conversation lasted two words: Alright? ...Yeah

It wasn't groundbreaking, it wasn't revolutionary, it wasn't even poetry, but it was all they needed to say.

They had been the best of friends once, closer than brothers. George had had his own room at Jack's house, Jack had had his own shelf in George's fridge. But somewhere along the way, they had lost that.

Was it because Lissy, George's ex-girlfriend had hated Jack, was it because of the fact that Jack went off to uni while George stayed in their hometown, or had it merely been because of the fact that...

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I jumped.

I know it was dumb but at the time I didn't really think I had any other choice. Besides, it's not like I really thought about it. I just did it. Just took that leap. Stepped off the edge without looking down first. He was coming after me and my instinct took over and I am now lying in the bed that I made.

Of course I had the choice of socking that guy at the bar, the one who chased me, the one weighing about 300 pounds and all of that muscle. Of course I could have...

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