Norman was a doctor. He was a doctor because he was good at fixing things, and at some point in his life he determined that the most important things that needed fixing were human beings. So he became a doctor.
He looked rather doctor-ish, in his trenchcoat, his traveling case of medical supplies and his pattern baldness. He was friendly, having the bedside manner that everyone expected of a good doctor.
The day that the sun became sick, people all over the world panicked. Some rioted, looted, killed one another, for in a world that was nearing its end, one...
Arches atop tall pedestals opened into an ample space, magnified by groin vault ceilings. Red brick, scrubbed clean, gleamed brightly, reflecting morning rays.
Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
Mrs. Baer had not picked her for the reading group, but that didn't matter, because it didn't mean she wasn't good enough, it just meant that Mrs. Baer didn't KNOW how well she could read! Mom would say it, loud and clear Emily could hear it in her head, "If you'd just made yourself noticed, Emily, then you would not have been ignored!" This is what Mom always told both of her older sisters when they became too meek.
"You get...
"So, old woman, how do you cure Love at First Sight?"
The crone laughed like a deadman's rattle. "Ah, there's a thing. Well, if you were some maid, I'd say a kiss. Or to be truly rid of it, a marriage." She pronounced marriage 'marry-ahj' the old way of yore.
"Neither is possible. I'm already wed, and happily too, were it not for this accursed lust that's come over me."
"Tell me her name and her story." the wise one requested. Of course, she already knew the girl. The lovesick sow who'd pleaded for a love spell. Yet she listened...
Rudolph ran as fast as his four legs would carry him. He had run out of fairy dust over a remote forest, and unfortunately it was deer season.
The celebrity found it hard to blend in with his shiny nose. In fact, it was damn near impossible. His snoz glowed like a blinking beacon, one the hunting party was only too glad to follow. He heard a voice, not far off, call, “I see him over here, boys!”
Damnation, but they were close!
Rudolph searched the area. Could he pull the ol' mud over the nose trick again? No, who...
In 1921, he flew from the Great Rift Valley. No one believed him, of course. They knew a man could not simply spread his wings and fly. Because a man had no wings, and that was really the point of it. But he insisted he had done it. “Just because no one saw me,” he said, stretching his arms up to the sky, “Does not mean it didn’t happen.”
No one was convinced.
“I flew,” he continued, “From one side of the rift to the other. Over the canyon. I soared above the ground and floated in the sky.” He...
Outnumbered.
I thought I should've won this contest, but I clearly couldn't think of any number larger than the theoretical 1st entry of the 2nd series of busy beaver numbers.
Okay, yeah, the 2nd number, obviously, but then I would have to rigorously define it, and I don't understand the math well enough for that.
"Good game"
"You admit defeat?"
"Yes, I admit defeat. Your knowledge of large numbers and advanced mathematics is clearly superior to mine."
" . . . aaaaaaand?"
" . . . and this is a clear fact even though I've spent 7 years of university...
We are falling, steady. We are falling a little bit. We are falling into a mass dream, an illusion that is as good as reality for now. We are falling so slowly, so gently that it feels like we are floating. We are together and we are kidding ourselves. But it is noble and good and we are falling. What reality is greater than this? What is it we are here for? We are this: we are weight: we are what makes it possible to fall.
We are falling and it is enough.
"It's gorgeous." breathes Nora, enchanted by the dress in the window.
"That's as may be," mumbled her husband, "but we can't afford it."
Nora sighed deeply; it was always the same story. Whatever she wanted, they couldn't afford. It was a different matter, when he wanted to go to the Working Man's Club, or whatever he got up to. Money just appeared out of nowhere for that.
Begrudgingly, she followed him as he walked off, hands in his pocket as usual.
"Just going to find a newsagents." he announced, barely waiting for a reply.
Fine, she thought, knowing that he'd...
Six minutes...
Was that really all he had left? Three hundred sixty seconds? Well, less than that, now.
He looked into the eyes of his family, gathered around him atop the hill.
What was a man supposed to do in a situation like this? Pray? Meditate? Impart wisdom? Plan some last words? They'd have to be really special... You only got one chance at Last Words.
He thought for a moment. Two hundred seconds, now.
He nodded imperceptibly, straightened his back, and reached for a pair of scissors. With a confident, even snip, he pulled away a handful of hair...