To Save a Town 2

Soroya flew the short distance to the town square where the town's people, old and young, were being loaded into trucks. Those who were old and strong enough to offer resistance had been handcuffed or tied. Many of the children were crying. There as a news crew and its vans interspersed with the military vehicles. They were recording the scene and broadcasting it live. It was how she and her brother had become aware of the situation.

She came to a stop, floating in place just south of the square. Using some of her power, she projected her voice and spoke. "General Thrisen! Let these people go!"

All heads, cameras, and guns turned to face her. A collective gasp went through the crowd as they noticed her, floating above the streets. Very few of her people used their power for flight, it took too much power, and even fewer had used it where it could be seen. None had ever been captured on camera.

A man, tall and muscular, pushed his way through the soldiers and civilians to stand in the center of the square. He had a megaphone in his hand. "Ah, Soroya Kingschild. We meet at last." he spoke into the megaphone. "Where-"

"I'm here to trade myself for the town." She cut him of before he could ask where her brother was. "They've done nothing." As she spoke, she noticed soldiers moving through the news crews, making them lower their cameras and voice recorders.

"They gave shelter to enemies of the United States." was the general's reply.

"They had no idea I was here. I rarely came to town, and when I did, I made sure I could not be recognized. They did not know they were helping me. Let them go and I'll come peacefully."

The general thought about her words for a moment. "You'll come willingly? No fighting or resistance?"

"Yes. Provided you release them now. I won't come down until then." she replied.

The general spoke into his sleeve. "How about this, in addition to you surrendering peacefully, you also prove that there are no others like you among this crowd and I'll let the town go. No charges will be filed, no one arrested. If there are others like you, they will be taken and placed in the nearest camp, instead of being taken as a terrorist. Sound like a deal? As you think on this, you should know that I have men in place to shoot you out of the sky if you refuse this offer. "

She didn't immediately respond. He was asking her to betray her own people. It would have been one thing if no others had been here; but there was one man. He was a few years older than she and Corin, and taller. He stood with defiant posture among other young men who were waiting to be loaded onto a truck. Even from her height, she could see the markings that marked him as one of her people. The markings of her people were only visible on a certain wavelength of light. A wavelength that humans could not see or produce. Not with out help. What would be the most significant about this betrayal, even of one man, was the fact that she was supposed to be a leader of her people, a queen of sorts to her brother's role as a king. Even still, she knew what she was going to do.

"I'm sorry."she mentally said as she sent a telepathic burst of apology and deep regret. While her people could not exchange words telepathically, but they could send "bursts" of emotion with such precision that they might as well have. Her burst was returned with one understanding and acceptance. From the way he expressed it, she got the impression that he had known what she would do even before she had and that he was perfectly okay with it, possibly even proud. "Strange." she thought.

She closed her eyes concentrated. She felt the power flowing through her and molded it to her will. A moment later, she was filled with warmth. She opened her eyes and raised her right hand. A yellowish light emanated from it. She shone it over the crowd. She lit the rest of crowd, moving slowly so that the general and his soldiers could clearly see that there were none of her people among them, before coming to stop on the man she had noticed.

"Bring that man here." the general said through his megaphone. Soldiers moved to obey. They grasped the man by the arms and brought him to stand by the general. Once he was standing beside the general, arms still held by the soldiers, the general addressed her again. "Alright, Ms. Kingschild, it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal."

"What about the townspeople? They are free to go?" she asked.

"Yes. The town is free to go." the general responded. He spoke into his sleeve again and solders began to move through the crowd, releasing those who had been restrained.

She watched for a moment and then slowly began to descend, releasing the power that held her in the air . She did it slowly so that no one would assume she was flying off or attacking.

She had only descended a couple feet when she heard a muffled thwump and whooshing sound behind and above her. She whirled in the direction of the sound. She tried to dodge, but was not fast enough, so a second later, her chest and left arm exploded in pain and she lost all control of her power and descent.

She was vaguely aware that she was headed in the direction of where General Thrisen was standing. She hit the ground with a thud, cracking the asphalt.Her unconscious body rolled a few times and stopped. There was blood coming from a gash on her head and from her nose.

"Restrain her." the general said, and his men obeyed. They roughly rolled her over and cuffed her hands behind her back with cuffs made special for restraining her kind. Two of them lifted her by her arms and dragged her to a truck.

"Lieutenant," he said, addressing a man beside him who saluted, "make sure she stays unconscious until I say so. Also, take that man she identified with you. If he give you any trouble, shoot him." The lieutenant gave him a "yes, sir!" and scurried off to follow his orders. Then, the general turned to address the rest of his men and yelled, "Somebody confiscate those cameras!"

To Save a Town 1

"I'm sorry, Corin." she whispered, sending a telepathic burst of regret to him as she hit him on back of the head. She caught him as he slumped to the ground, lowering him gently. He would never forgive her for this; but it couldn't be helped. She couldn't let a whole town be punished for something it hadn't even known it had done.

"Soroya!" their friend Mark cried in a whisper, "What are you doing?!" He knelt to check her brother's pulse.

"Mark, I need you to stay here with him." she answered. "I'm going to turn myself in."

"What?! Are you crazy?!" Mark replied, almost shouting, as he stood and faced her. "They'll send you to the camps, if they don't kill you."

"Mark," she said, grasping his shoulders. "listen to me. I am aware of what will happen, but I can't let all those people suffer for something they haven't technically done. Nothing you can say will change my mind. I'm going to tell them that Corin is dead. I know it will be hard, but you cannot let him come after me. He has to stay free. He is more important than he knows. Do you understand? He cannot be captured too."

Mark, who had been looking at her in the beginning, glanced away when she asked if he understood. He stared at her brother for a minute, and then sighed. "Yes. I understand."

"Thank you." she whispered as she wrapped him in a hug. He returned it and it lasted for a few seconds. Then, she pulled away and stepped back. She gave him a small smile and then pushed into the air, topping the buildings surrounding them in a matter of seconds.

Mark watched her fly, and then sat down beside the unconscious Corin. He was going to be infuriated when he woke up. How did she expect him, a mere human, to hold back someone who was essentially Superman?

Locksley, Potter, and Athos 2

David bent over and laid the blanket over Sara's sleeping form. She had finally fallen asleep, the events of the morning dragging her into unconsciousness. Her sleep was peaceful at the moment, but he wondered how long that would last. He knew she occasionally had nightmares before this morning's incident, and now they would probably only get worse.

The door behind him opened and he turned to see their fellow co-worker, Lucian, poking his head in. David straightened and exited the room, making sure to shut the door as quietly as possible. Once outside the room, he noticed that another co-worker, Alice, was also outside, her face a mask of worry.

"How is she?" Alice asked.

David sighed and answered, "She's sleeping. Peacefully, for now, but that probably won't last." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"Why did he call her 'Robin'?" Lucian asked.

"What are you talking about?" David replied.

"That guy, he kept calling her 'Robin', which is not her name; but he acted like he knew her."

"Yeah," Alice chimed in, "and she kept calling him 'Potter'. I thought his name was Harry."

David looked at them incredulously, "You two heard all of that?"

"Yeah. Sorry, boss, but we had to know what was going on in there." Lucian replied.

David sighed again, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall. He stayed that way, for a moment, not uttering a word. Lucian and Alice stayed quiet as they waited for him to answer. Finally without opening his eyes said, "What I'm about to tell you never leaves this hallway. Under no circumstances is anyone to know what I tell you, even Sara. Got it?"

The two replied in unison, "Got it."

"Before Sara came to work for us, she was a student and Patton Academy. She, along with two other students became friends. They did everything they could together. They were the top of their individual classes, but they were even better as a team. Any team exercise they dominated. They were unstoppable.

Subsequently, a government agency took note of them and offered a job as agents. Each of them shared a love for ancient literature, and that was reflected in their code names. Sara, a fan of the tales of Robin Hood, was named Locksley; but the other two just called her Robin. Harry, as joke, was named Potter, after a children series that had a character with that name. And the third member, the leader, was named Athos. His name came from the tale, The Three Musketeers, and the brooding character suited him.

Years went by and they did a great service for the Alliance; but something happened. During a mission that went south, Athos was killed in an explosion. At least, that's what everyone thought. Potter refused to believe it. He was convinced that Athos was still alive; and that the mission had been rigged from the start. He went of the reservation. Eventually he was branded a criminal. Sara, now without her two best friends, was discharged from her contract and hired soon afterwards by Mr. Reynolds. The rest you know."

He opened his eyes and stared at Alice and Lucian for a moment, gauging their reactions. They were both staring at him. Lucian, he could tell, was still processing the story. Alice, on the other hand, was staring at him with a look of comprehension and horror.

"You're him. That guy was telling the truth. It all makes sense now." she muttered.

Lucian looked at questioningly, "What are you babbling about?"

Alice pointed at David, "He is Athos. He must have had reconstructive surgery or something."

Lucian glanced at David. "What makes you say that? You don't have any proof. You didn't even know the guy."

"You didn't see them when Sara first met him." Alice countered, turning to face Lucian, "She acted like she didn't know him, because as far as she is concerned, she doesn't; but he had this look of concealed recognition and relief on his face. I always thought it was odd, and now I know why."

Lucian pondered this for moment. Then they both looked at David, who had stood quietly the entire time. He was staring at the floor and looked very tired.

Lucian spoke, "Is she right, boss?"

"Yes." was the whispered reply. "and heaven help you if I ever find out you tell her."

Locksley, Potter, and Athos 1

"Robin, you have to listen to me." the man before her insisted.  His gun was pointed at the floor, but she knew from experience that he could have in pointed anywhere in seconds.

"I am listening, Potter." she replied. "I just don't believe you. I was there when he died. No one could have survived that kind of explosion. Please, put the gun down." She had to get him to surrender. The authorities outside had only given her five minutes to convince him to surrender peacefully. If he didn't surrender by then, he would end up dead. She would be alone.

"I can't." he responded. "Not unless you come with me. I can prove what I'm saying. I can prove they lied to us. Please, Robin."

The pleading look in his eyes almost convinced her to go. He must really believe Athos is still alive. But that was impossible, Athos was dead. She had seen the body. There was no way it had still been alive. Going with him would only add to the charges against him. She could only help him if he surrendered to her. "Potter, I'll make you a deal. You put the gun down and come with me. You can show me everything, and I'll promise I'll listen. No more running. No more hiding."

He let out a exasperated sigh, "You don't get it. The people we used to work for, they're part of the system you work for. They wanted us dead and I can prove it, but they'll never let me show you the proof. They'll kill me first. They-"

At that moment there was the sound of breaking glass, and Potter's voice cut off. He dropped gun, fell to his knees and then pitched onto his back.

Sara dashed over to him. "Potter!?!"  She knelt beside him and pulled his jacked open. The bullet had missed his heart, but only just. She pushed her hands onto the wound.

"Robin," he gasped, coughing up blood. "my left pocket - take the key." He grimaced in pain and coughed again as she she situated her hands to free one to get the key. She heard the doors behind her open and the sound of footsteps.

"Athos is alive." He gasped between more coughs. "I wouldn't lie to you about this." He coughed again and then lay still.

"Potter?" She started CPR. "Potter, please, hang on. You don't get to die too." He had to live.

She had barely started when she felt strong hands around her arms, pulling her away. She fought against them, but they were too strong. The owner of the hands pulled her into his chest. Some subconscious part of her brain recognized the person as her co-worker, David, and she let her self be pulled into his arms. She stayed there, curled in his arms until she couldn't cry anymore.

A Washed Key

 a key. He pulled it out of the clothes. It was small with a rounded top. It didn't appear to be anything special; but he did not remember where it came from. It didn't look like any keys he owned. He would probably have to take it to a locksmith to figure out what it went to. Then he might be able to figure out where it had come from.

A Crossing

The bridge before her swayed with the breeze. It was old, but appeared stable. She started across. The boards under her feet creaked and the ropes supporting them groaned. Many of the boards cracked when she put her weight in them. A few, rotted by age and time, broke under the strain. Eventually, with patience and careful precision, she made it across.

Dead Bodies. For Real.

Now there were two in the middle of her living room floor. She stared at them in horrified fascination, not really sure whether to scream or give in to her curiosity and move closer. There was an obscene amount of blood. It was pooling on her carpet and being seeped up into her couch through the blanket that had fallen half to the floor.

Finally, against her better judgment, she decided to embrace her curiosity. Careful not to step on or disturb anything, she loved watching cop shows, she moved closer to the nearest body. There was a hole in the middle of his forehead. What she could only guess was brain matter was splattered with the blood around his head. His face was frozen in a look of shock, eyes wide open and unfocused.  She moved to the other body. This one's eyes were closed. Staring at the body, it's eyes closed and the haphazard placing of the limbs, she reasoned that he had been wounded before the struggle in her apartment. Apparently, after struggling with and shooting the other man, he passed out and bleed to death.

After staring at the bodies for a few more moments, she called the police. Then, she went down to the building's coffee shop to wait. As she waited, she pondered all the reasons of why and how as she sipped her coffee. In her mind, of all the questions these two bodies proposed, the most disturbing one was, "Why were they in her apartment?"

A Summons from Mother

The doors to the hall burst open and man-like beasts poured in. Behind them came there leader, a dark mage. He strode in and stopped just inside the entrance, blocking the doorway, while the beasts encircled the room.

The prince had been watching his little sister's fencing lessons when it happened. As the beasts entered, she dropped her sword and dashed to him. She hid herself in the folds of his cloak, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Her instructor, a member of the palace guard, positioned himself between the siblings and the mage.

The dark mage glanced at him and sneered. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the guardsman aside. The garden and landed in the heat but one of the beast, proceeded to tear him apart. It happened so fast that the guard didn't even scream. The prince could feel his sister bury her face deeper into his leg as the room echoed with the sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh.

The mage turned his gaze to the pair, and looked the prince in the eye. The prince stiffened as an evil smile spread across the mage's lips. The mage spoke,  "Sorry to barge in like this, boy; but your mother wants to see you."

Hello and Goodbye

The boy pushed the boulder off of the girl trapped beneath. Her left leg was bent at an awkward angle, and her shirt was covered in blood. He checked her pulse. It was there, but only faintly. Her breathing was shallow and pained. He put his hands over the hole in her shirt, applying pressure to the wound underneath. She let out a weak groan and her eyelids fluttered. A moment later she opened her eyes. She focused on him and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Shhh, don't try to talk." he said to her. "Everything's going to be okay."

As the last word left his lips, she gave a weak cough which was followed by a deeper one, this one bringing up blood. He shifted so he could prop her head up on his legs and still put pressure on the wound. He know he was fighting a losing battle, but he had to try.

"Who are you?" asked a weak voice.

He glanced down at her, "My name is Romio." he replied. "Can you tell me yours?"

She closed her eyes, as if she was trying to remember, and took a shuddering breath. "Juliyett."

He smiled, "I like that name."

She coughed, more blood coming up. "I like yours too." she responded, her voice barely audible. Then her body seemed to relax, her head leaning into his legs more. He checked her pulse. She was gone.

The Hidden Cave

a cave up ahead, but all he saw was a rock wall. He checked his compass and and did a mental walk through of his trek thus far. He hadn't taken a wrong turn. Great. The cave had to be here. He couldn't go back home empty handed. It had been a uphill battle just to get the funds and permits to go on this trip. So many people had tried to stop or discourage him from going. He had to come back with something. He  sat down on a nearby boulder and pulled out the worn journal that paired with the map. As he read, the sun shifted the shadows. He looked at the rock wall and noticed a shadow that shouldn't have been there. He walked over to the wall and took a closer look at the shadow and a moment later let out a shout of relief and excitement. The cave was hidden behind a boulder that blended in seamlessly with the wall behind it, unless viewed from the right angle or the right time of day.

The Infiltration

He stared at the 3-D display before him. The subtlest path to the tower was highlighted for him. As he stared at the path he ran through scenarios that could arise. He also contemplated, briefly, bringing someone else in. No, it would be best if he did this alone. Infiltrating the citadel alone would be hard, but not impossible. Adding another person would add more opportunities for things to go wrong. Most importantly, it would open him up to betrayal; something he had experienced before and never wanted to experience again. Ever.

He sighed and leaned a little more on his hands. On the other hand, having another person could speed things up. The timing had to be perfect. The High Protector would only be gone from the tower for an hour at most, and he had to be in and out of the citadel before then. If the journey to the tower was off by even a minute, he would be captured and killed. The Protector had an uncanny ability of knowing everything that was going on in the citadel while he was in it.

This was not going to be easy, but it had to be done. The outcome would be worth it. Well, it would be if he was successful.

The Cursed Chest

 The men stared at the chest. The lid was covered in an archaic script, but every man knew what the script said. They had been taught "The Cursed Chest" poem since childhood. It was meant to deter men such as themselves from opening the chest. It translated:

"Beware, ye fools, who open this chest.
Beware, ye fools, of what happens next.

Open this chest and you invite strife.
Beware, ye fools, you'll forfeit your life.

Open this chest and death you invite.
Beware, ye fools, you won't last the night."

One of them spoke up, "So, Captain, do we open it?"

Supervillain "Honey Do"

To Do:

1. Feed dragon
2. Repair evil robots
3. Practice monologing
4. Practice evil laugh
5. Finish evil potion from yesterday
6. Torture prisoners
7. Work on dark magic spellbook
8. Fine-tune plans for global domination and destruction
9. Write manifesto and demands
10. Publish threats
11. Look through henchman applications
12. Prep tomorrow's menacing outfit
13. Pick up:
1. eye if newt
2. toe of giant
3. wing of bat
4. graveyard dirt
5. bundle of human hair
6. quart of blood
7. milk
8. cookies

A Heavy Choice

I stared at the list of names. All of these people, every single one, was a stranger. Most importantly, every single one was dead; and they were dead because of me. I was my fault, and yet.... it wasn't. I'd had decision to make. No matter what I did, people were going to die. The question had been, "How many?" I tried not to make the decision, be all "smart-alek" and going with "no one;" but people had died anyway. The one forcing the decision on me had reminded me that the question was "How many? Would it be a  small handful of unknown, but no less important, people? Or, a larger group, who's size was the equivalent of a small nation? How many people would die?" Finally, I chose. Heaven help me, I chose. "The needs of the many..." and all that. What else was I supposed to do? Let a millions of people die, or only a couple hundred? I am not proud of my choice, but I wouldn't change it. The decision was made, and I have to live with it. You judge me, but if the choice had been yours, what would you have done?

Glowing Hands

I stared at my hands, basking in the soft glow they emitted. My arms tingled as the glowing design worked its way up my arms from my palms. The design had randomly appeared years ago, glowing whenever it felt like it. I had finally learned to control when they glowed. I could now hide the spidery vine that reached up to my shoulders at will. I didn't have to wear long sleeves in the middle of the summer anymore. While I hadn't figured out exactly what the marks meant, or what they did, I wasn't afraid of them randomly lighting up a room. Maybe they are a gift.

Insubordination

"That's still not an excuse for her behavior."

"What behavior, sir? She did what was needed and saved lives."

"She disrespected a superior officer, disobeyed a direct order from said superior officer, assaulted an unarmed civilian, blew up a building thereby endangering civilian lives, and freed a criminal from custody."

"That's one way of looking at it, yes sir."

"One way of looking at it?! What in heavens man! How else should her actions be looked at?"

"Well, the criminal she freed was a wrongly accused man who was instrumental in today's success, for it was a success mind you. The building she blew up was an enemy stronghold that was more of a danger the lives of those civilians if left standing that it was being blown up. The unarmed civilian was an assassin sent to kill our Council Leader. Sir."

"What about her disrespect and disobedience of a superior?"

"Since you asked, sir, if the superior had been so superior, he would have taken her actions himself instead of leaving them to be carried out by a junior officer."

Unfair or Merciful?

but as was often the case, good intentions had not been enough. He had done everything he could to see that she survived. He could see no way anyone could have predicted this. Yet, here it was. She was dead and he was alive. It was not supposed to have turned out this way. He had been the one supposed to die. That would have been the "fair" thing to happen, for he deserved death. All the things he had done in his lifetime pointed to it. She on the other had had been innocent. Maybe it was a good thing. Now she would never have to know or experience how cruel the world really was.

A "Guardian Angel"

I take a deep breath as the figure exits the building. They are so beautiful. The way they walk, the way the dress- absolutely exquisite. I follow them, discretely of course (they can't know about me just yet, the time is not right) as they walk. I know where they are going but I still follow behind anyway. I pretend that we are walking together. Their phone rings and they answer it. I feel a stab of jealousy. They should be talking to me. Their intoxicating voice should be echoing through my ears, not the ears of someone else who does not appreciate and love them the way I do. They laugh, a heavenly sound, and the jealousy renews. They should be laughing at my jokes. I follow them until they return home, watching and absorbing their every move. The jealousy still smolders. It has been long enough. Tonight, I will make myself known. I will let them know that they have a "guardian angel" that loves them and is watching over them.

To be Herself

She lay back on the stone railing and closed her eyes. The stone wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was better than being cooped up in the house. She listened to the soft gurgling of the stream that ran underneath the bridge. It was so peaceful here. The stone was cool beneath her skin. She knew she should be inside, learning French or practicing her embroidery; but she was tired of of all. She was tired of all the pressure of being a "lady." She wanted to learn fencing and marksmanship her brothers, not hosting and dancing. She longed to be free to be herself and do the things she liked to do instead of fulfilling what others expected of her.

A Hell On Earth

It was so strong that she tasted it in her mouth. The carnage was overwhelming. Bloody instruments and tables lay scattered through out the room. Buckets filled with blood and other fluids were also placed here and there. A half mutilated body lay on one table, still strapped down. It was nauseating. Beyond the room, there was a long hallway that had been converted into a type of cell block. The smell of unwashed bodies mixed with the stench of decomposing ones. Some of the inhabitants of the cells were able to come to come to there doors, begging for release. Others, many with gangrenous wounds simply remained where they were. If there was a hell on earth, this was it.

100 Sentences- Third Person POV

1. He grabbed the bag and ran out the door.
2. She walked like an angel
3. The dog sat at the door, waiting on it's master.
4. She cried until the tears no longer came.
5. The pizza delivery man was a vampire.
6. No one ever came to her house. 
7. She sat quietly in the corner.
8. The monster was smaller than they had expected.
9. The cat spoke.
10. He stared at the paper in shock.
11.  The man smiled at her.
12. They landed lightly on the roof.
13. The child looked at her with sad eyes and began to cry.
14. All of a sudden, the panther attacked.
15. The ship attached itself and set the air-lock.
16. A warning bell sounded.
17. The soldier saluted the lowering flag.
18. People came from far and wide.
19. She loved cheesecake.
20. The wolf had dissolved into a man.
21. He picked up the artifact gently, as if it might shatter at the slightest touch.
22. The mirror was fogged from the smoke and heat.
23. The computer buzzed, beeped, and died.
24. Her hands shook at the sight of it.
25. He took off down the lane.
26. "Good morning," it said.
27. The dog growled and showed its teeth.
28. He mounted the horse and rode off.
29. A body lay in a pool of blood.
30. The diamond sparkled in the sunlight.
31. The cat flicked its tail.
32. He grabbed the gun and started shooting.
33. The paper was crisp and white.
34. The shop was filled with sweets.
35. The plane took a sharp dive and leveled out.
36. She hugged the child with all her strength.
37. They looked at each other and burst into laughter.
38. The engines were on fire.
39. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his side.
40. In his hands, he held his grandfather's sword.
41. The floor writhed with snakes.
42. Pigs started flying.
43. The apple was red and looked delicious.
44. As she looked at the music, she stated humming.
45. Her work was almost done.
46. He glanced at his friend, grateful that he was there.
47. The phone rang, shattering the silence.
48. He wrote faster than the eye could follow.
49. The baby started crying immediately.
50. The song was sad and wistful.
51. The rain and hail pelted the windshield.
52. The journal pages were spattered with blood.
53. The glass shattered when it hit the floor.
54. Arms out, she stepped onto the ledge.
55. The horse bucked and whinnied, then bolted.
56. The car exploded and he was pushed to the ground.
57. The knife drew blood.
58. Her smile lit up the room. 
59. Her mother looked at her with disapproving eyes.
60. The peace was shattered by a scream.
61. Her dress sparkled and shone as it caught the light.
62. The town was deserted.
63. The contents of her purse spilled across the tile.
64. The sound of steps echoed down the corridor.
65. Strong hands gripped him and pinned his arms to his sides.
66. The dog cocked it's head in an expression of curiosity. 
67. The cat curled in his lap and began to purr.
68. Leaves littered the walkway.
69. He read the letter and his heart shattered.
70. He was covered in mud from head to toe.
71. The child giggled and dashed off.
72. He caught her as she fell.
73. The alley smelled of garbage and urine.
74. Her eyes started to droop.
75. He tried to move, but only succeeded in increasing his pain. 
76. They were not the results she had expected.
77. Her hand was cold in his.
78. The apartment had been ransacked.
79. The girl was dressed in rags.
80. Adrenaline flooded his system.
81. the gasoline soaked car burst into flames.
82. The boy smiled at her and she blushed.
83. The game was hard, but she learned quickly.
84. The teacher looked up when she heard the snickering. 
85. The man in the coat grabbed her arm and whispered, "Run."
86. She fondled te pendant absentmindedly.
87. The song touched her soul and echoed in her heart.
88. The paramedics started CPR.
89. The sword cut through the silk like water.
90. Loud music asulted her ears.
91. The silence of the empty house was oppressive and depressing.
92. She screamed when she saw the carnage inside.
93. The tea was hot and refreshing.
94. He slipped into the next pose effortlessly. 
95. He grabbed her and hugged her tight.
96. She had tried to find sleep, but got lost on the way.
97. Th field was filled with flowers in full bloom.
98. The stone was cool and damp beneath her feet.
99. The bag ripped and her groceries spilled to the ground.
100. He closed the book and returned it to the shelf.

Unfamiliar Home

She just stood there, staring. Occasionally she would take a few steps and then stop. She would then pick up an object, look at it as if seeing for the first time, and then put it back. When she encountered pictures, she would stare at them like she was trying to remember who was in them. She also muttered to herself. Nothing intelligible, but muttering none the less.

"This is a lovely home. Is it yours?" she finally asked.

I stared at her, holding back tears. "No, Mom. It's yours. This is your house."

"Oh." she replied, and then looked at me with a strange expression. "Why did you call me 'Mom'?"

Pain and Memory

Mr. Grey had told her that she had been unconscious for three days, and missing for two weeks before that. She had simply disappeared one night after stating that she was going to her dorm's gym. Two weeks later, her friend, Pasha had found her lying in the floor if the entry way. She was dressed, although not in the clothes she had left in, but her feat were bare and bloody. She had no memory of how she had gotten there or where she had been for those two weeks. Every time she tried to remember what happened, s searing pain shot through her head. If she tried to press on through, the pain and pressure only got worse. The doctors said it was probably due to the fact that she had sustained two concussions. She also had three broken ribs, two cracked ribs, busted knuckles, lacerations on her face and arms, and the bottoms of her feet had been scraped raw. They said that, from appearances, she had at some point gotten into a fight barefoot on rough terrain. They said that the broken bones and cuts would heal, but they could not tell her for sure whether her memory would return.

The Night Before Duty

Captain Harrison looked down at his young son. He would miss him so much. He hated that he had to leave, but duty was duty.

He could hear his men laughing and talking with their families and friends. They would be leaving for Eiridin tomorrow. Since they were escorting King James, there was no way of know how long they'd be gone. So tonight, the families and friends of the Guard were having a feast.

The King had ordered his kitchen staff to cook their best and had lent the men one of his banquet halls for the occasion. Entertainers had been hired and were outdoing themselves.

Even thought there was much merriment, the was still a lingering sense of apprehension. Eiridin was the capital city of country they had been at war with not too long ago. The war was over, but relations were not friendly. The king was going as a display of "good will". There were also rumors that he was going to speak with King Ivan about a marriage between their two heirs. Captain Harrison had no idea if they were true, it was not his place to inquire about such things. His job was to protect the king, nothing more. He only offered advice when the king asked for it; and though that happened often, the king had not brought up that particular subject.

The feast ended at midnight. He wanted his men well rested and prepared for tomorrow. As he slipped his free arm around his wife's waist, he silently prayed. Thanking God for his family and for the ability to provide for them. He also prayed that God would bring him, his king, and his men home safe.

An Enemy's Last Request

He shuffled nervously before the door, contemplating knocking or just leaving the package on the doorstep. He had seen war and destruction. He was a soldier. But standing here, about to apologize for a man's death had him more jittery than his first day in battle.

Finally, he knocked. After a few tense moments, he heard a shuffling behind the door. It opened only a crack.

"Can I help you, sir?" a quiet voice asked.

"I believe so, yes mam... are you Mrs. Chyng?" he asked.

"Yes." she replied hesitantly, "I don't want any trouble."

"It's no trouble. I knew your husband."

She stared at him in shock. "My husband? But you're...."

"I know. I'm the enemy. That doesn't matter. Your husband saved my life. As he was dying he asked me to bring you this package; and I said I would."

An "Oh."escaped her lips in a quiet gasp. A moment later she asked, "Would you like to come in for some tea?"

He smiled. "Thank you. I would like that."

Only a Name

Literally. Up and down his arms, across his chest. Even all over his back and legs. They were written in different styles and sizes, but the were all my name. I knew this because no one spells their name the way I do, well, no one on their right mind anyway. Thanks Mom, whoever who are.

"Why do you have my name written all over your body?" I asked, dreading the answer.

He have me a sheepish look and answered, "Honestly, I have no idea. "

"What do you mean you have no idea?!?!" I shouted and he flinched. "It's all over you! That doesn't happen by accident."

"They kinda just......appear." He answered, not looking at me anymore.

"They just appear." I echoed. My voice dripped with sarcasm and skepticism.

"Ever since I turned eighteen they've been showing up. No explanation, no reason. There's not even a set number of days in between when they appear. No set time either."

I staggered and flopped down in a chair. This was too much. Not only was there some guy that had my name written all over him; but he didn't eve know why it was there. What in the world was going on? This was like some crazy sci-fi scenario. This couldn't be happening. It-

"Uh, excuse me," his words brought me out of my racing thoughts, "can I put my clothes on now?"

Snow and Ash

"Look, Mommy! Snow!"the little girl squealed as she stared out the window. Her mother, in the kitchen, made no reply.

"Mommy? Mommy, come look!" she continued. "There's snow!" Still no answer. She left the window and went into the kitchen. Her mother was chopping potatoes. Her father sat at the table reading, papers and pens scattered across the table.

"Mommy, can I go play in the snow?" she asked, tugging on her mother's dress.

"No." her mother replied without stopping or looking.

"But Mommy, it-"

"Amy!" her mother said with force, stopping her work. "You cannot go outside. Don't ask again."

"Why?" she asked, trying not to cry. Her mother never raised her voice like that. "It's just snow."

At her statement, her mother looked over to her father. They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Her father gave a small nod and closed his book. Her mother went back to her chopping.

"Amy, come here." her father said. His voice was gentle. Amy walked over to him. He picked her up and placed her on his lap.

Amy sniffled and said, "Why is Mommy so upset? I just wanted to play in the snow."

Her dad looked at her with a sad, tired expression. "I know, sweetie; but that isn't snow. It's ash."

A New Me

My current one was getting a little too popular. I had just gotten comfortable with it too. Finally, it didn't take people calling my name two or three times because I didn't realize they were talking to me. Luckily, they just thought I was deaf or deep in thought. But now everyone knew my name, and I do mean everyone. That's what happens when your name is broadcasted in the evening news with the tagline "Wanted for Murder. Considered armed and dangerous. If seen, please call your local law enforcement or the FBI hot-line listed below. Do not confront or antagonize." They didn't have a photo yet, but they would soon. The fix for that was easy. A little shave and some dye and I'd be a "new" man. I also kept a stash of colored contacts for times like this. My name however, that would be harder to change. Not just on paper, but in my head. Once again, I would have to train my self to answer to a new name. One of these days, I am going to forget what name I started out with. Further more, the next time a strange body appears in my living room I will get rid of it and disappear immediately. No trying to figure out who it is or why they're dead. Once the body's gone, I'm gone.

A Change of Heart

"Well, what can I say. Love changes people."

"Love?! You, a self-proclaimed 'scoundrel and bachelor'? You think you're in love?"

"Yeah, I do. So what?"


"This is hilarious! Does she know what you do? What you used to do? Does she have any idea who you really are?"

.........

"I'll take your silence as a resounding, 'no'. Why haven't you told her? Are you afraid of what she'll say or of what she'll do?"

"Both."

"I see. So, you believe, in that tiny little lovesick brain of yours, that if you sacrifice yourself she'll see you for who you want her to believe you are; that she'll never have to know that you are everything she hates and despises. You also believe that even if she finds out that she will still 'love' you, provided you sacrifice yourself first. That sound about right?"

"More or less. Can we get this over with?"

 "Why? You in a hurry to die? Because that's what the deal was. One of you sacrifices themselves and the others go free."

"I know what the deal was."

"No pleading? No 'last minute deals'?"

"No."

"Would you like to write a farewell letter for her to cherish when you're gone?"

"No."

"Very well then. As soon as your hearts stops your friends are free to go."

Untitled Vamp Story (scene-shot 1)

"There's nowhere else to run, girlie" he said as he stared at he two figures in front of him. A girl, short, maybe twenty-one, and a boy- tall and pale, obviously a vampire and obviously injured. The girl was injured too, a gash in her side; but she didn't seem to care, even though she was backed into a alley and the only way out was through vampires.

She was supporting the boy, as much as she could anyway, with the height difference. As Viktor and his people approached she pushed him behind her to lean on the wall and took a defensive position in front of him. She drew the knives that had been fasted at her back and assumed a ready stance.

"You're not going to take him. He's not one of you." she replied defiantly.

"Yes, he is." Viktor replied. "Besides, we don't want to 'take" him. We are here to offer him, and you, sanctuary with us. If we really wanted to take him we could. All we would have to do is wait a few more minutes for you to pass out from blood loss."

At the mention of her passing out, the girl paled a little, but stood straighter and gripped her knives a little tighter. She spoke, "How do I know you won't let your people eat me if I go with you?"

"You have my word." He help up a hand as she started to reply, "I know, I know, "word of a vampire" and all that; but that's all I can give you." he added. He stared at her quietly for a moment. "Honestly, I'm rather surprised your friend there hasn't already tried."

A flicker of worry crossed her face as she processed the statement, only to be replaced by her earlier determined look. She obviously trusted this boy, vampire or not. That was interesting.

 She looked back at the boy standing behind her, not turning her back on Viktor, but not directly facing him either. He look back at her, pain and hunger on his face. An unspoken conversation took place between them, and then the girl turned back to Viktor. "Fine. We'll go with you; but so help me, if anything 'non-healthy' happens to either of us, you won't like the repercussions."

"Fair enough." Viktor made a motion with his hand and two of his companions stepped past the girl, giving her a wide berth, and assisted the boy, on one each side. As they helped him past her, the girl took a few steps and stumbled. Viktor used his supernatural speed and caught her before she hit the ground. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the alley.

It's Not the End

He closed his eyes and lay still.

The fight had lasted two, maybe three minutes, but it had seemed to go on forever. Guns were fired, knives had been drawn, and punches were thrown. There were many times that he thought the fight would end then and there, only for it to be drawn out. Eventually, however, it was over. He didn't swagger away like the guys in the movies. He was on the ground, gasping for breath, every inch in pain. After a moment, he took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out. Then, groaning, he staggered to his feet and walked away. Fighting six (or was it seven?) guys was exhausting.

Thanks and a Plot

Hi all. I hope all is well with your lives. I want to say thanks to all of you for reading.

If this is your first time here, I hope you enjoy your stay and that you will return. I try to update every week day (Mon-Fri) so feel free to check back in.

If you are returning, I am glad to know that you have enjoyed yourself here enough to return. Thanks for your continued interest.

Today, I am deviating from my usual "stories" to bring you a plot. At work today, I was trying write 9/18/15 I wrote down 9/18/25. So, after discussing the random ten year jump with my co-worker, we came up with this plot:

     A person is gifted through "lightning strikey" magical means the ability to travel through time. He/She does this by writing down the date that they wish to travel to. (Maybe they should find a book that lets them do this? anyway...) The catch- he/she can only travel to a particular date once. They cannot write down, for example, 5/4/1945 then 6/15/1999 and then 5/4/1945 again. There is the ability to travel to the "future" (defined as any date before the ability was discovered or any date beyond that that the character has not lived through), but because the future is not written, it carries great risk. Also, the more he/she travels to the past, the harder it will be for them to return to "their time" without someone noticing gaps in their memory (because they can only return to the "current date" once).

Sound fun?

Dead Men Don't Press Buttons

"No, you weren't supposed to press that button! You weren't supposed to even be near it!" *frantically presses other buttons* "What on God's green earth possessed you to press it?!"

"It was an accident!"...................... "What happens now?"

"Well, for starters, I get to call the President and tell him that this was all just a false alarm. Then I get to silently and respectfully listen to him chew me out for being reckless. Then I'll do the same while he threatens to shoot me or have me incarcerated if it happens again. Heaven forbid I tell him it was you who pressed the button and not me."

"Why can't you tell him it was me?"

"Because, oh dearest friend, you're supposed to be dead. Dead men don't press buttons that start nuclear wars."

"Oh."

The Abondoned Clock

She stared at the remains of the old clock. It had once been a grand and beautiful thing. It's windows had been stained glass and iron.  The building was so tall and the face was so large you could see it clearly from any where in the city. At one time, it chimed out the hours in pleasing rings and peals. Now it sat silent. many of the windows had cracked and broken during the bombings. One of the clock hands had fallen off and had probably been sold as scrap. Many of the chimes and bells had gone missing, the ones that weren't too large for one or two to carry. Thankfully, the stairs that wound their way to the top had been made of metal. If they had been wood, they would have rotted and collapsed long ago. To most people, the prospect of living in an abandoned clock building was creepy and unsettling, so much silence where there should be noise. To her, even with the broken windows and dusty floors, it was home.

The Message Van

He stared at the writing on the vehicle's roof. The van had sat abandoned in the woods all summer. No one knew where it had come from, it had just appeared. It would probably be towed soon. It was nicknamed the "Message Van". Sometime during those warm months, someone had gotten the "brilliant" idea of writing messages all over the roof, which was now covered in them. Most of it was cutesy stuff- "so-and-so loves so-and-so",  "so-and-so was here". There were also hearts, stars, and other various doodles. Some were dark and hateful. There were also a good amount phone numbers with the words, "call me" written beside them. Some had names, some didn't. He looked at his watch, he'd been reading the markings for almost an hour. It was time to leave. He picked up a marker, there were plenty scattered on the floor. He found an empty spot and wrote, "...but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep..." He then capped the marker and crawled out of the van.

And that was the end of it...

 And that was the end of it. The mission was over. Now they would go their separate ways, not seeing or speaking to each other until the next mission. It was better that way. No attachments. Just meet, get the job done, and go home.It was safer too. If one person was captured or compromised, they could give very little information on their associates. Yes, it made trust a little hard; but that was they way it had to be.

Insta-Learn

"You can learn anything! Insta-Learn lets you download new knowledge and skills directly into your brain. No more grueling training sessions, no more boring lectures! Learn what you want when you want!"
     I gave a small grunt after the commercial ended. When I was younger, I had wanted to use Insta-Learn to learn as much as I could. Now, not so much.
     Ever since I was little, my dad had taken me to what little "wild" remained and had taught me how to survive on my own, without technology and amenities. He had also taught me basic medical techniques, and how to read, write, do math, cook, sew, and fight. He taught me all of these, and a few more, without ever letting me use Insta-Learn.
     At first, I thought it was kinda cool to learn things the "old-fashioned" way; but as I grew older I started to resent it. I didn't want to be dragged out to the middle of nowhere to spend my days and nights with no technology, hot water, or bed. I didn't want to learn skills that I would probably never use; but my dad never relented. He never really explained why he made me learn things this way, he only ever said "Character trumps talent."
     I didn't stop resenting the lessons until it was too late to thank him for them. A few years ago, I hand the unfortunate experience of having to use, not only one of the skills, but all of them in order to survive. I also learned the short-comings of Insta-Learn. It was hard to access the stored skills in the "wild", and while the brain may know how to do something, the body does not necessarily understand how to perform it. Therefore, my hard work and hard won skills made me smarter and faster than the "Insta-Learners."
     As my dad always said, "Character trumps talent." Talent will only take you so far, but hard work will take you farther. Thanks, dad.

Empatic Thoughts

 "I wish I could talk. I wish I could tell them that I'm still here, that I can hear them and that I understand what they're saying. I wish I could make them understand that I'm still alive."


"I don't regret what I did, ......... but I'm scared to die. I wonder if there really is life after death?"


"Almost there. I can make it. I will be free. I will make a new life for myself. I'll get a job, save money, and send for my family. Then we'll all be happy and free together."


"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap......I can't believe I let them talk me into this. I'm gonna die! I want down! ...... Yeaaaaaaaah! This is awesome!!!!!"