She wrung the coffee out of the front of her shirt, made damn sure that all of her doors and windows were locked, and called Mike.
"Yeah? Sandie? That you?"
"You don't know anything about this, do you?"
"Mike, there's a zombie on my back porch. It's leaving smears on the glass door. Is it yours?"
"I... Could you repeat that?"
"Zombie, Mike. It's a dead body in a puddle of nasty, and it's leaving more nasty on my door. God, I can even smell it. This is one thorough job, man."
She edged away from the door, keeping an eye on the intruder beyond the glass. It was bloated and purple with decay, green and black fungus speckling its face. There was fluid coming out of its mouth and dripping from its nose. It had no eyes, and all indication of sex or age had rotted away.
"Robotic, maybe? One of its legs is about to fall off. You didn't sic one of your Cyber Derby friends
It was an odd sensation, floating there in the dream. She could hear the world cars and a dog and the rumble of a jet passing overhead but there was nothing to see. She tried to raise her hand in front of her face, but she had no hand, either.
I'm a Presence, she decided. A Presence floating in space. That was comforting, because a Presence could not fall. She listened to the sound of the highway.
It was not so much a voice as a thought, less of a word than an impulse, sort of like Sandie imagined binary code might feel to a computer. She tried to shake her head, figure out whether it was her ears or her brain that had received the message. But she had no ears, and it did not feel like she had a brain, either, and as
The sign on the Baptist church down the street flashed: "Pray for Rain."
"You feeling okay?" Mike asked. He had on a red plaid shirt that almost managed to hide the pizza-sauce stains. His collar was curled up in the cup holder in the front seat.
"Better," Sandie said. She bit off a string of cheese and helped herself to an orange soda from the cooler. "I mean, it's hard to stay freaked out when you're working the morning rush and you've got twelve caffeine addicts yelling at you over the counter. Would have been easier if Connie would stop bugging me, though."
Connie offered an angelic smile from her place on the bumper. "Not my fault you're loca, mama."
"I guess you guys don't listen to
"I think it's gone," she told Connie. "I mean, I don't want to jinx anything with optimism, but at least it's gone on vacation."
She drank her coffee black and supervised the installation of a new door. She picked up the phone to call Mike, but remembered belatedly that he had a noon Mass, and set it down again to wait until later.
Local news entertained her until the thump came from the new door.
A person's silhouette was visible through the frosted glass, standing still and dark beneath the shade of the back porch.
The thump came again not a knock, but a meaty thwack as though the visitor was trying to come straight through. Then there was the horrible squeak of skin sliding down the glass.
Sandie's lip curled. She added Windex to her mental grocery list and stood up, grabbing a heavy wooden candle stick from the end
Sandie bought a book of stamps and sent a stack of poems away to the offices of Lead Soldiers, thinking that a small royalty would at least begin to fill the dent that a new door and a medical bill had left in her bank account.
"Maybe you could take up a special collection for me," she told Mike as she got him a glass of water root beer was an unnecessary expense.
"Meh," he said. "Charitable though the cause may be, it doesn't really work that way."
"Shame. I'm going to start getting really sick of ramen in a week or two."
"You can always come share with me. For some reason, people are always bringing me leftover barbecue. Which is nice, don't get me wrong. But they must think I eat like a football team or somet
"It's not staring at you," Sandie told him. "Actually, I'm not sure that it can see."
"Well, it's not a he or a she. I didn't exactly check, but it was kind of hard not to notice "
"I don't think I needed to know that."
And still it stared.
Mike kept a firm hold on Sandie's hand until they got on the Loop and she needed both hands to drive. She looked grim and determined in the green glow of the dashboard lights. It talked to her, she said, talked to her in dreams the way angels were said to do sometimes. Whatever was riding in that weird, hairless body, it was no angel. He watched Sandie's face carefully, keeping tabs on the thing in the back seat from the corner of his eye.
The bluegrass bar was called Hat Bands, and business was just beginning to pick up for the night. Rows of cars clogged the tiny parking lot, forcing Sandie to look for a space around back.
There was a noise from the back seat as S
Connie was the worst.
"So, he didn't take anything?" she verified for the twentieth time. She popped her gum and flipped her glossy black mohawk to the other side of her head.
"Nope. At least, I haven't noticed anything missing yet."
"Nothing?" Connie asked again. She leered and winked. "Nothing at all? I mean, you don't think he snuck in and ravished your unconscious body?"
"What the hell? Where do you get this stuff?"
"From Padre. Not that last part, I mean. He just told me you had a break-in. Bo-ring. Doesn't make a good story to say some
Explain to me the logic behind MelloxNear, and Ill give you a million bucks.
Does L ever change his clothes, or is he just that crazy for giant white shirts and jeans? Really, wtf is up with that?...
The question we all want answered: is Mello or girl, or does he just have really bad PMS?
Why did Light have to make everything so damn complicated? It wasnt like we couldnt tell he was gonna lose in the end oh, did I just spoil something for you? Sorry not.
Raise your hand if you also think Death Note is very sexist. I mean, look at how WEAK those girls are, man!
How is it that Matt, a character with only about twelve panels altogether, has a popularity rating thats higher than Lights, Nears, and Mikamis put together?
ZOMG MIKAMIS A
On the other hand, it was hard to be sure that this visitor was the same one that had shattered her window. The faces were so different, and this one was not dripping, but the voice in her head was the same. It felt the same, what few flashes she had gotten from It.
But after a few minutes, It seemed to have given in to exhaustion and fell into quiet muttering that filled the back of Sandie's head.
She tried to help. She dug up old clothes and helped It to dress, a process not dissimilar to trying to clothe a rag doll. She asked what It needed, both aloud an
“OK there Sara, so could you maybe move a little to your left…yeah that’s it,” the photographer told me with his eyeball pressed firmly against the lens. “Now would Abigail and Rachel like to take a step closer, and come on Harriet, keep smiling.”
I took some solace in no matter how fed up I was getting, there was no way I was in a worse mood then Harriet. For the red-headed tomboy this photo session was her idea of hell. I looked briefly at her and could see her putting on a smile I knew all too well. The ‘I’m going to smile politely even though I’m inwardly seething’ smile which Harriet did so well.
Her experience could not have contraste
I turned off the ignition and stepped out of my expensive, jet black Mercedes. I moved around to the boot and opened it to reveal my large, dark blue, square travel case resting inside. I picked it up by the handle and pulled it out, wheezing as a result of how heavy it was. That didn't matter, as I pulled out the long plastic handle from the top so I could pull it behind me on its wheels. Tugging it along I pushed a button on the wall, closing the garage door behind me, and then walked through the back door into my house.
Well you could call it a house if you wanted, but my gigantic ego would much rather call it a mansion. It was an old country manor completely
Brenda opened the back door and walked into the small foyer inside, where she hung up her coat. She was dressed in a smart navy blue suit and a cream blouse, stocking and sensible shoes, ready to get to work straight away. Sh
She landed with nothing more than a soft thump, a skill perfected from her many hours of snooping. Drawing herself back to her full height the young lady reaffixed the belt wound about her jean miniskirt, and pulled back her purple hooded top so her silver heart shaped necklace was visible above her white tanktop. Then readjusting the purple bag slung over her shoulder, she gave a flick of her long, bright blonde hair held back in a ponytail and set off to find out what this warehouse secretly contained.
Unusually for my adventures, I was stuck under here through choice. During evening service I'd snuck through a fire exit, and somehow avoided being noticed by half-drunk men with an average age of sixty five as I sidled into the office. I'd taken up position under here and had been waiting a good couple of hours for the sound of raucous, drunken laughter to disappear as the bar clients filtered into the night.
I jiggled my legs in frustration, at least dressed comfortably in jeans, a blue hoodie and my newest pair of red coloured converse shoes which reached above my ankles. I'd clipped back my shoulder length brown hair to keep