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.