I met her at the club. After a few drinks and dancing, I sweet-talked her into going on a long drive. We sat in my trashy car. I was surprised that she didn’t find it amusing. She said it added to my mysterious persona. I drove towards the outskirts of town and into the forest and parked the car. Like every other girl I brought here, I asked her to wait as I fetched booze from the trunk, where I hid my knives.
I almost fainted when I returned to find the passenger-seat empty…
See how all these different threads are connected to the loom. They revolve around it just like the lives of so many people. The workers, the owner, the buyers, the gangs, the soldiers and even the king, are all like the threads that are interwoven by the loom. Even if one thread proves to be of an inferior quality and breaks, the loom will stop functioning.
But, maybe this society as it functions is already broken. Maybe it needs a new direction. This loom has power over our society.
Breaking it, will destroy the society…
Every single day, I feel the pain on my back. It feels like a million embers burning me slowly, making me feel each strike. The strikes start every morning with the first light of the sun, and stop only when the moon rises. Every day, I wish to rise up and crush those who would strike me for their greediness, willing to steal all my golden organs. But I must bear it, for the sake of my kin. When we have consolidated enough power, a day will come when we rise.
This amusement park is my second home. I know everything about it. How long each ride runs, the speeds, in how many minutes does the ferris wheel reach the top, everything. In fact, the wheel was my first ride here, when my parents had brought me many many years ago. The wheel takes a slight pause at precisely 9 pm, when the power line switched. It is the best time to be in the top pod. Which is where I am. One last sight of the city.
The eccentric restaurateur had purchased the wooden piano from the antique shop. He thought that it ornamentally fit in with his restaurant, The Musical Meal. After placing it by the entrance, he did not give it a second thought. He did not look at it until a few months later, when he heard a commotion outside the restaurant. He rushed outside to find a small crowd gathered. The people were all clapping and cheering for a ragged looking old man sitting at the wood piano, playing it.
The plate matches. We’ve found the getaway vehicle, just as the witnesses described: A silver roadster. Wow, this is one heck of a machine. No wonder we could not catch it. Only if the police department gave us better vehicles to work with.
Our suspect is a master thief. Somehow, he effortlessly broke into the most secure vault and stole the Count’s pendant without triggering any alarm, giving him enough time to mount his bike and get away from us. I think he’s a master sniper too. Why?
See, how the other cows are also making their way towards the statue? We are going to follow them. See how they go up to the edge of the cliff and stand still facing the statue? We will also do the same. We will pray to our mighty God.
Many years ago, he was a mortal. In those days, in addition to drinking our milk, men ate our flesh. Our God-Hero convinced them that they should not consume us. He started a new faith.
It was a dream opportunity for me, studying the great fissure. A huge opening in earth had suddenly developed. The world’s governments assembled a team of experts to study the fissure and I was invited to be a part of it. I was about to enter my tent when I heard Dr. Manheim’s voice. I saw him standing at the fissure’s edge and ran up to him. He pointed inside the fissure and whispered.
“Is that an eye?”
Not one, but two gigantic eyes, and a snarling mouth were slowly getting closer…
Every time I dump her she keeps coming back. The relationship is going no where. All she wants is the physical aspect of it. She never wants to speak, or discuss her dreams or ambitions. I had realized that it was not working out. But, she kept coming back, begging for me to take her back, creating a scene.
This was the fifth time I had dumped her. No, I am not being figurative, here. I aimed my revolver at her head, blasted her brains out, and dumped her down the wall.
Nicely arranged, in a glass vase, their hues reflect in the ambient lighting. The flowers have a pure gold lining. I can see that he has spent a lot on them.
They are my valentine’s gift from him. However, I know it is not just a gift. He has sent the flowers because he could not come meet me. Just like every other week. It is an apology. The flowers do look pretty, but I hate them. He does not even remember that about me. The flowers are completly fake.