PROSE What Spies DoMy dad is a rock. He is solid, he is powerful. He can still pick me up and toss me over his shoulder. He is never seen to cry, he can never be swayed or damaged by opinion. He is a real estate agent, and he pushes those deals and sways those clients with confidence and experience. He flexes his arms at the dinner table when I ask him and points exactly which way it is to the beach or the gun show. He is a tree, a mountain, a thick and formidable presence in any room, in any place, against any person.PROSE What Spies Do8 years ago in Literature Submissions
Hes late, my mom said, and pursed her lips through the steam of her hot dinner plate.
My brother pushed a floret of broccoli with his fork. Cant we just start without him?
Absolutely not. She frowned. God help us if we become one of those families that never eats together. Its an important part of your childhood, and so ma
RenewRenew7 years ago in The Future of Holidays
The pig carcass filled most of the stainless tub where the delivery men had laid it. Freshly slaughtered, but not butchered, it had taken four of them to lift it there. None of them spoke to Rinnovi, only pausing for him to sign for the animal before they left.
On the way to the door, one of the men pointed at the stickers affixed to virtually every item in the house; black typewritten names and addresses on white shipping labels. The leader of the group nudged him and shook his head 'no', before hurrying him out the door.
Rinnovi poured a scotch, and turned on the kitchen vid display, his own visage peering back at him with a smile. He froze the frame, leaving the remote on the island beside the second stainless tub.
"Osiris, prepare to renew." He spoke aloud to the empty room.
"Preparations underway." The voice, angel soft and faintly Irish filled the room seemingly from everywhere at once. Both of the tubs began to fill with a steaming viscous liquid, spattering against the steel, a
Stockholm. 1.Light always comes first, as light is the source of most things. Certain flowers turn in the direction of the sun, twisting their leaves and petals in this dirt to face the ball of yellow; light is the source of sight and color, both of which directly affect human emotion which in turn affect performance on various different levels; and it is assumed that when a child is forced from the womb the first thing they see is the light, a terrible contrast to the dark safety of the sack of nutrients and a morbid parallel to the light at the end of an approaching death.Stockholm. 1.7 years ago in Fanfiction Epic Challenge
But when Franks mind began to birth itself back into consciousness he did not turn towards the light like a flower rooted into the soil, and he didnt welcome it like a child fresh from the womb. He treated it like the light at the end of the tunnel; high beams of a car steered by a drunk driver. He tried to step out of the way but the light came close, seemed to envelope his whole head. Frank tried to open his mouth