"Quack quack quack!"
*Translation: OH NO! BP!
"Quack quack quack quack."
*Translation: I'll have to move to another pond now...
"Quack quack..."
*Translation: Stupid #$#@%$%$#^#$ humans.
"Quack quack quack..."
*Translation: Or maybe I'll just steal all their rubber duckies. See how they like losing something.
"QUAAAACKKK!"
*Translation: MWAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
Mr Duckie went to become the Robin Hook of all ducks, stealing rubber duckies from all the human children and all the grownups who still like flotation toys. Right now he has a large organization, SOPWRD (Save Our Pond With Rubber Duckies) and has declared Ernie from Sesame Street as Duck Worlds...
I always imagined that I'd feel nothing. Instead, I feel everything. Every paper cut, every broken heart, everything. It's like a million voices echoing in my head, vying for attention. I tip my head back, letting the wind rip through my hair. It's calming. I feel the knots in my shoulders relax, the pounding behind my eyes ease. This is it. It will soon be over. The pain, the misery, this life. It is almost over. I glance down at the crashing waves. It's a long way down. Noone will ever recover it. Its time to say goodbye. Time to...
I sit high in the tree above the water. Watching. Bapa sits in his little green boat rocking gently in the water. The sight is a familiar one for me. I have been watching Bapa fish and gather since I could climb the tree. I close my eyes and listen. Bapa's voice floats through the warm sticky air and up to my perch in the tree. His voice is deep, warm, and smooth just like the water. when he is in his boat, I don't worry about him. Mama died when I was born and most of the time it...
I shot my butler. R500's faults were many, burning the morning toast, giving me a crumpled newspaper to read, ushering guests into the wrong rooms to name a few. Robots should know better, after all their programming is far superior to our brains.
After a week of complaints from Marie, my third wife, the sexiest one I've had, R500 had to go. I used my new rifle to shoot him outside in the garden, scaring the peacocks strutting around on the lawn.
Obviously it was the wrong method of dispatch, he's back in the house, ironing my dress shirt for...
The mannequin stared at me again, just like it did every morning.
It was the same this morning as every morning. My route would pass in front of the shop; the same steely look from that dummy. I didn't want to admit it to my older sister, but there was something about that look that made me completely afraid. "Come on, you!" she said. "Stop your dawdling, we're going to be late again, and every time we're late, it's all your fault. Come on!"
I glanced over my shoulder at the mannequin once more. I was sure, this time. Something...
She opened the envelope and screamed. The paper didn't so much as drop to the floor as simply fall apart in her hands, clear liquid eating its way out of the corners and seeping everywhere, floor, clothes skin.
She screamed again as the contents of the envelope liquidated the very flesh from her hands. She turned sharply as the back door banged, meeting the horrified eyes of her husband through a blur of tears.
"Holy fuck," was all that he whispered as he grabbed the 'phone from the side and dialled 999, barking orders for an ambulance.
"Why would they...
"The key to the door is lying on the floor, a meter and a half to your right," it instructed. The more it spoke, the more unnatural it seemed to Jolene, the more artificial. Synthesized.
Slowly she followed its directives, feeling along the stone-cold floor in the dark. "Be quick," it admonished her tonelessly.
Finally her fingers brushed it; her pounding, she seized the key and stumbled her way back to the door. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm, and carefully inserted the key into the lock. To her relief, it turned, and the door moved...
"Travel light."
"But take everything with you."
A murmur of confusion ran across the gathered crowd.
"That will only slow us down!" The young man who had been such a cool head through all of their troubles spoke firmly, with an authority far greater than his age would normally have allowed.
"We can't allow them to find anything which they could use against us." The town drunk retaliated. Or at least, that was all he had been, until the shadow began to cross the land and the war drums had begun to beat once more, since then, he had been...
I have writers block.
Urggggg.
Okay, I should probably explain myself. I am a writer.
Well its more like I would like to be a writer.
Unfortunately, my brain does not possess this talent and I am here, stuck in a coffee shop because I heard that's where Joanne Rowling wrote "Harry Potter."
But, now that I look around I can't help but notice the clear boundaries between strangers in a coffee shop, in which only waitresses can cross. Even then, for a short period of time.
Maybe half of us here are on either our laptops or cell phones....
"This is it?" Leila said with a wrinkled nose, her hands were clasped behind her back as she slowly approached the animal.
Myron stared at the blue ribbon sitting in a bow on the back of her head, eclipsing her dark brown tresses like an enormous butterfly. His eyes traveled down to her feet and the way her calves flexed as she walked on her toes around the creature.
"I wasn't lying, was I?"
"Dunno," Leila replied, and she hopped on a crate, her lanky, boyish form backlit by golden rays. It shone through her hair, making it more like...