The Boy and The Bull The sun was setting as William Walker decided to confront The Bull.
"He's been drinking all night," Will said to his friends, feeling clever. "Look at how he sways, struggling to keep his eyes open. He's drunk and tired. The Bull's getting old, boys. That thousand will be mine."
"You're out of your mind," his friends might have said, but the town was in much need of some excitement. Besides, Will wasn't exactly the prize friend. He might have won a few lucky games at the casino and bought a few rounds, but apart from that he wasn't much fun. His death wouldn't do much difference, so they let him do it.
It's a shame no one's thought about this before, Will thought to himself. Many had tried to cash in those thousand dollars, but none had succeeded. In the end, The Bull wasn't deemed worth the trouble. But waiting til' he's drunk, that would make him an easy kill. Dead or alive, Will Walker thought.
Charred First it smoked so you think he'd felt cold and lighted the fireplace. But it was July, and warmth was in the air. Then the house started burning, suddenly and violently. The roof fell apart and crashed into the foundation and the walls charred and cracked.
It's all made of wood, he realized. Another thing that makes this house bad. He wasn't smiling. But though the house homed so much pain for him, he'd never stopped to think about the good things.
When his father wasn't hitting him, they would play. Sometimes they would play cowboys and Indians and he would always be the cowboy. Father would let him win and fake a death as he shot him in the chest. Other times, he would make pancakes for them all. He remembered the smell distinctly, sweetness filling the entire house from top to bottom. Slightly burnt, but tasty nonetheless. He would bury them in sugar and Mother would laugh. "All that sugar isn't good for you," s
You'll Be Gone I found you in the gutter, choking on your own puke. The Jack & Daniels in your hand was empty, whatever remaining before you passed out washed away on the street in the rain. You were pale and wet and you were crying. But not for the first time that day.
You were sobbing into your cup as I entered the bar. "So you've heard," I said. I was just sobering up myself, but you brought back the feelings and I ordered another drink.
"It's funny," you said as you brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "I've known Elvis for so many years now, and he's never noticed me even once." I dried a tear off your chin while you sobbed. "I saw him on the Red, Hot and Blue show all that time ago and fell in love with him on sight. I remember the day very precisely, that July fifth where he published his first single. There I was in the front of the line, buying it with eager. I listened to it all day, never got sick of it even once. He was my
Growing Up "We all did it. Every one of us." The men were gathering closer around him, forming a circle around the ritual stone. There was no escape for Kyan. He would have to do this, or he would get beaten for the rest of his life. Butterfly, they would call him as they kicked. Kyan had seen it happen before, to other cravens. And still, he couldn't help but wonder.
"Why do I have to do this? What does this have to do with being a man?"
One of the newly found men walked forward, staring down on Kyan. Just an hour ago, he had been Mirek the boy, Kyan's own friend. Now he was Kyan's elder. He still smelled of burned flesh. "It shows that pain means nothing to you. A man should not be guided by his boyish feelings, he should devote his life to obeying the Great Above. Are you scared, Kyan? Maybe you should rather be by the girls, crafting your woman's necklace." He laughed and the others joined in, mockingly.
I Didn't Do It They come to get me at noon. 12:00. On the dot. I didn't do it.
"James McClair?" one of them say.
"I didn't do it!" I blurt. I want to give them the evidence, tell them all about it. Maybe then they would just leave me here in my cell to sleep. But I can't. All I can say is "I didn't do it."
"That's not for us to decide. Come on," the other man says. He opens the prison cell and I try to make a run for it, but stumble and fall on the ground. I think I'm bleeding. They have to carry me away.
It's not like I don't see why they think I did it. After all, my friends saw me walk away from the party that night with the boy. But he was drunk, far too drunk to think. I tried to get him home, I really did. And I will tell the jury. About how he said "I'm sorry, James. For all I did." About how he grabbed the gun and shot himself, falling backwards into the river. I'll tell them everyth
Tea Party "Would you like some more tea, Mister Fitzroy?" Lucy poured happily, skipping around the table to give everyone some tea. "How about you, Mr. and Mrs. Stone? May the little one drink tea?" She poured and poured until she was out of tea. Then she seated herself right next to Jeremiah R. Winchester and began sipping from her own teacup. Jeremiah had donned his old military uniform. Red and white with gold buttons that went all the way up to his brown fuzzy beard. He looked like he had just come home from war. He was great company. They all were.
It's a shame all of them were dead.
Lucy sat sipping for minutes, chatting with the dead bodies. Sometimes she would stop and be silent as she stared in front of her, but her guests didn't mind. They were so polite. They were much better friends than she'd ever had.
She had been handy with a shovel ever since she was five. Father had taught her how to use it, how to put yo
Singing Flames He sat staring into the singing flames. She sat down beside him, long black hair casually draped around her shoulders. They fell dangerously close to the licking flames as she bend over to look at his face. "You look familiar." She tucked her hair behind her ear, but it fell down again instantly.
He looked up from the fire. She was wearing a short, black dress, blood-red lipstick and a pair of casual sandals. There was sand in-between her toes. He wanted to brush them clean.
"I'm sure I've met you before," she said. The flames were reflecting in her amber eyes.
He looked back into the flames. Leave me alone, he thought. He was rubbing his hands.
She wasn't. She was grabbing him by the cheek, turning his head towards hers. "It's not polite to look away when you are talking to someone."
"I'm not talking. You are."
She let his head go. His eyes went back t
The Mirror - Chapter 3 This can't be...
"You must be Derion," the girl said with a nervous smile. "Y-your friend's been telling me all about you."
Derion dropped his fishing pole, and it fell into the lake with a plop, slowly descending into the water. Derion didn't even notice for a moment. He touched the girl's face, lightly at first. He ruffled her hair, opened her mouth to look at her teeth, stared into her eye. Her sky blue eye.
"I-is everything alright?" the girl asked with a trembling voice.
"Derion, this is..." Vicken looked at Derion with his ruffled face, raising an eyebrow. "Are you alright?"
"You're Maigo. This isn't possible." Derion widened his violet eyes and stared at the poor girl. "This isn't possible."
The girl looked confused. "How do you know my name?" She was scared. Her eyes gave it away. "I'm not sure I understand."
Jamie's Coin "For how long have you been following me?" Jamie asked.
"Do you remember how you got here?"
"I took the elevator. You know, the grey one? The sign said to take the left one, so I took the left one."
"Mhm. And before that?"
"There was a long corridor. It was pretty dark, I couldn't see much." Jamie flipped the coin and caught it again. Held it up in the light and studied its details. "I don't think there were any walls, I remember trying to reach out into the darkness, but I was afraid I would fall into the emptiness."
"And before the corridor?"
"I..." Jamie hesitated for a moment, the only sound in the cave being the magnified booms of their footsteps.
"That's where I started following you. I'm surprised you didn't notice me earlier."
"I did. I just didn't want to disturb you." The coin went back into his pocket. Then he took it out again.