Friday, June 25, 2010
Speaking of which. I stared at the dark blue pickup parked a few miles ahead of where I stood. The driver got out and looked around, and I dodged behind a bush on the edge of the road. As I watched, he dragged a long, thin... something out of the back of his truck. He threw his blanket-wrapped package into the ditch, got into his car, and sped off.
I ran over to the bundle, a thrill of foreboding running through my veins. As I reached it, I swore. It was a body. I pulled the blanket back from where the face seemed like it should be, and gasped.
The woman was a mirror image of me. As I brought my left hand up to my face, so did she--and her eyes opened.
"Hello?" we said at the same time, and blinked in shock.
What on earth was going on?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
She closed her eyes, muttering a prayer to the gods she served and almost believed in.
Drunken laughter, then quiet.
Chanting now, coming from the girl's lips.
The wind died complete.
Footsteps on the pavement, getting closer.
A distant rumble of thunder.
She could count the men by the sound of their footsteps alone. Three.
The air filled with the smell of ozone.
The breath of ale on her face. A hand close enough to her face she could feel it.
The girl opened her eyes.
The storm broke.
"Massaging my hand. Yours are all inky."
"Yours are, too. What are you afraid of?"
She blushed. "I am not afraid of you."
"Your pupils just dilated."
"Did not." How did he get so close?
"Yeah, they did. You're either afraid or excited," he smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Which is it?"
"Yeah, right. You like it when we face off. There aren't enough people in your life you can debate with."
"I happen to like not getting annoyed to death," she breathed, suddenly hyperaware that John's face was only about three inches away from her own.
"You're not dead yet, are you?"
"I will be soon, the way you--" The rest of her sentence was cut off as John gently pressed his lips to hers...
"Hey, Mom wants to know what's taking so long," said a voice from across the room. It was Mrs. Brooke's six-year-old son, Jack.
As Leah stepped back from John in a daze, he answered without taking his eyes from hers, "Tell your mom it'll be five minutes, tops."
Leah averted her eyes and walked away, her thoughts in utter turmoil.
"When deep down in the core of your being you believe that your soul mate exists, there is no limit to the ways he or she can enter your life." Arielle Ford.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Crow, keep going.
She looked forward incredulously, almost expecting to see some slight change in the road - some path that she hadn't noticed.
The construction was still there, working on the interchange that was supposed to relieve traffic congestion, but everyone knew would make it worse.
The car behind Crow honked. She looked at the sign again.
Taking a deep breath, Crow shuddered onto the broken concrete, broke through a warning sign, and trundled up the unfinished slope.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
"I'm done. Your turn."
With that, the Behemoth vanished from all being, leaving only a faint odor of ozone.
I'm God, Ryan thought. How do I do this?
Monday, June 14, 2010
"Either these are the long-dead living," whispered Jacques to a crab crawling from an eye socket, "Or the recently living dead."
The crab made no reply, and Jacques' eyes narrowed with suspicion.
The crab slowly closed its right claw, then allowed it to fall lazily open.
Jacques withdrew a comb from his raincoat, and slowly twirled it in his hand.
The crab's eyestalks slowly crept forward.
Jacques' face was the picture of solemn focus, while his mind scrabbled for everything he knew about this type of crustacean. Did they hunt in packs? Were the females huge, winged carnivores? Did they serve the sea-witch or-
My God! Mercury is in the third palace of Jupiter! That means- Jacques lunged forward, but it was too late. The crab's shell split, and writhing maggots poured forth into Time. Twelve chimes sounded in the space of no more than a second, and no less than an eon. Jacques turned as behind him, the waters churned.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The last town was little more than a shifting dot on the horizon. No vehicles were in sight. The nun resumed her course, and took her left hand from the handlebar. Plunging it into the sleeve of her right, she found the hidden pocket, within which a second pocket was secreted. Using the nails of her thumb and index finger, she carefully pulled out the single thread of the pocket to open its full depths, and from there she drew out a key no larger than an ant. The minute key was inserted into the round end of the left handlebar, and turned.
The icon-adorned instrument panel folded into itself, revealing a sensory pad. Maria pressed her rosary to the panel, and mentally recited the Hail Mary. She pulled back, and a chime like a church bell gave prelude to the appearance of a small button directly between the handlebars. As Maria pressed it, a gout of flame shot from the exhaust, and the nun tripled her speed.
Glancing up at the sun, Maria gauged she would be to the rendezvous at the Yucatán by nightfall.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
"Why? It was your idea."
"I've got enough trouble as it is and this is a very intensive situation I'd plunge myself into. I can't afford the time and I don't want to either."
"Fine. Why not?"
"Because we've got enough things to deal with and all this does is destroy the consistency we've maintained for almost a year now."
"I suppose you've made these quite topics very... sensitive."
"It affects a lot of people and they obviously won't want to deal with it either."
"Why'd you propose it in the first place then?"
"You love your psych projects don't you."
"Of course, but this one is just a little too extensive. Maybe the idea will be reused someday in a less... destructive setting/capacity."
"You realize we have the same speaking techniques. I would've stuck with you to the end y'know; whatever would've became of this situation I still would be there against all odds and presumptions."
"Well? Now what?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, but let's continue to be consistent. At least we're moving forward."
Friday, June 11, 2010
Leah Avery shoved at the ink cartridge, trying to force it into the printer. "C'mon, fit," she muttered. "I've got to get this stupid newspaper printed or Mrs. Brooke is gonna kill me." After a few more minutes of struggling, Leah gave up. "Forget it. I'll just print the thing at home," she sighed to no one in particular. This had not been her day.
Oh, fantastic, she thought sarcastically as John Allen walked into the computer lab. John had been the bane of her existence since the beginning of their high school careers. He was arrogant, cocky, never seemed to date the same girl twice, was her only real competition for valedictorian, and worst of all, was the co-editor of their school's newspaper along with her. Which meant, naturally, that they spent excessive amounts of time together--and it made the whole ordeal all the more frustrating.
You can't deny it, commented an annoying little voice in Leah's head. You enjoy your little verbal sparring sessions with him.
Shut up, she replied to the voice.
Not only do you enjoy it, Journalism is the highlight of your day. You even look for him in the hallways, just to see if he'll talk to you.
As John walked toward her, Leah did her best to ignore that voice that had seemingly cropped up out of nowhere. "What's up?"
"Did you get the paper printed yet? Mrs. Brooke wants to leave early, since it's Friday."
Leah sighed. "We ran out of ink, and I can't get the cartridge to fit. I'll just print it at home."
John winked, and Leah felt butterflies in her stomach--again, attempting to ignore them. "Let me try it. Fixing things is a man's job, after all."
She rolled her eyes and smacked the cartridge into his hand. "You can be a real pain sometimes, you know?"
"Kindness is a two-way street, Leah. Sure, I like getting you mad," he grinned, "but you take your snipes at me, too. Admit it--you totally love it."
"Maybe, she allowed, "but only when you're not acting like your sole purpose in life is to send me to a mental institution," she finished with a smirk, flexing her stiff fingers.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Above Earth's blood in molten veins,
Imprisoned in a platitude,
Waits noble girl - the Princess Pain.
Her vestment pulchritudinous,
Adorned with but a drop of Fear.
Her face holds beauty treacherous,
For with it, she draws mortals near.
Her sleeves conceal each wicked claw,
Her lips her wretched, gnashing teeth.
The first to bring Man to her maw,
The last with which his soul to eat.
A still wind blows, a cold heat falls
As thunder forth her silent calls.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Monday, June 07, 2010
Good night, my child.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Friday, June 04, 2010
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring—except for this mouse.
The mouse traps were laid by their small hole with care
In hopes that a mouse soon would be caught there.
The mousebabes were nestled all snug in their nests
While visions of cheese and stuff danced in their heads.
Mamma Mouse in her Kleenex, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap
When outside the hole, there arose such a pong,
I sprang from my nest to see what was wrong.
Away to the mousehole I ran like a flash.
That horrible smell smelled a bit like burnt hash.
When what, to my small, beady eyes should appear
But a enormous rat—and eight tiny reindeer!
That fat, evil driver, not lively and quick,
I knew in a moment that it must be Rat Nick!
More rapid than cats, his coursers they came,
And he squeaked, and he squealed, and he called them by name;
“Now Slasher! Now Basher! Now Crasher and Witchy!
Now Bomber! Now Putrid! Now Evil and Bitchy!
To the bottom of the floor! Now the top of the tree!
Now run away, run away, run away, flee!”
As dry leaves that 'fore the wild tornado fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the tree the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh, some dead mice, and Rat Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard with great awe
The prancing and scurrying of each little paw.
As I drew in my head and was turning around
Through that small hole Rat Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his tip to his tail
And all of the fur told the horrible tale
Of mice that had given their valuable lives
Yet so seemingly worthless, as written by scribes.
His eyes, oh so evil! His paws, oh so scary!
His face was a nightmare, his nose a black cherry.
His rotten black teeth all fell out one by one,
And the fur on his body gave off a bad pong.
The tail of a mouse he held tight in his teeth,
And the stink, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a thin face and an over-sized bulge,
That obviously, Rat Nick liked to indulge.
He was awful and bad, an evil old elf,
And I squeaked when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A glint in his eye and a twist of his head,
Made me feel so scared that I wished I had fled.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all our stockings, then turned with a jerk,
And putting a paw on the side of his snout,
He gave a small nod, through the hole he was out.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him squeak as he drove out of sight,
"Be glad that I spared you, mouse, now good night!"
"Miracles do not defy nature; rather, they defy what we know of nature." St. Augustine.