A Short Story

Verin watched a group of young soldiers grapple behind the mess tent. He split his time between checking on Fynta and offering pointers when one of the guys showed bad form. So far, comms were still offline to the group that had entered the temple, but Verin didn’t worry. Fynta was impossible to kill, and he had little stake in the others. Granted, he rather liked the Togruta. She’d fought well on Tython.

“It sounds a bit like a waterfall,” she reflected, and spent a while listening for the echoes to die out. “Was that why I got them?” But she knew it wasn’t. She hadn’t even noticed before.

Casting a rock, she watched as it skipped one, two, three times before slipping below the water’s surface. Overlapping ripples expanded and blurred into tiny crests before washing against the riverbank. Gathering two stones, she ran her hands over them, but dropped them without interest. Since midnight, muddled thoughts had left her with a gnashing migraine that tore open flesh and shook meat from the bone. As before, the murky river held her glare without

She opens her eyes for a second. The trees flew out of the dark night, passing the car in a fraction of a second. She panic's, thrashing her hands toward the ceiling of the car bracing for an unknown impact. The only thing she can hear is a ringing a, a high-pitched whistle. She looks over at her passenger, she looks calm, as if she didn’t even know any of this was happening. She turns her head to look at Gabby trying to tell her something, but she couldn't make out the words.

“Oh my God.” I mumbled, “I’ll get Alice.” I started heading in the direction of the stairs again, but my legs wouldn’t work right. My head had started pounding and my eyes felt a little heavy. I felt myself sway to the side, and then righted myself. Aztec put a hand on my shoulder.

The neighborhood came to an end at a crossroad. Rowan ran across the street, heart beating in her ears. She didn't stop until she was well down the sidewalk, then slowed back into a jog. Blue Pine Drive, read the green street sign at the corner. A feeling of hope fluttered inside her chest. Just a few more blocks, and then she would be safe. Slowly, her heart beat stopped racing and slipped into the same rhythm as her feet slapping the concrete. She concentrated on keeping each breath

My eyes opened meeting the cold front. Breathing erratic, I slid off the bed, hands grappling for the keys. Legs tapping, minutes were hours before the knock. She’s here. Thundering footsteps ahead, I didn’t bother to mask the creaking door. There under the beam of static crimson lights was Cecil, her hair matted wet, lips pale and shivering. She hugged her chest, her breathing far faster than mine. “I got the car! Just like you wanted,” she breathes out. She takes a moment to catch her running breath. “I got… I got the car.”

“Crap.” She pushed away from the computer, stumbling around the dark room. Danny hurried into her closet pulling off her pajamas and putting on the first outfit her fingers touched. Mornings like this made her fervently grateful that she put all of her outfits together at the beginning of the week. Danny was a flurry of limbs, pulling on her clothes as quickly as physically possible. She moved to her laptop, saving the file she was working on before she closed it, and stuffed it in her bag she always kept with her as she flew out of her room and down the stairs.

“Stop referencing that! I didn’t need your help! Besides, you did that of your own accord!” Asami snarled, her pleased expression long gone. “And I can’t explain things to you right now, because if someone else finds out then we’re screwed!” She hissed before whirling around to face the metal wall again.

While the rest of the team had fallen asleep, I still laid awake lost in thought. We have already been on this plane for nineteen hours and thirty minutes. Which means we only have 20 minutes left on this horrible flight. I started to consider if we should've chosen a different airline, but then I realized I only dislike the 20 hours on this plane. I probably would've enjoyed this plane more if it wasn’t 20 hours. I don’t really know why, because I do enjoy the peacefulness I find on all planes.

Sheriff Eldritch Meeks straightened his hat and emerged from the Chevy Bel Air. Its beacon singed into the back of his neck. Red. Eldritch watched thin sheets of dust sweep down the highway. Everything was fuzzy. He wiped rain from his eyes and took a deep breath. The knife twisted harder into his brainstem. Headaches. The pain was getting worse. Stabbing. Pinching. Wriggling. Eldritch needed a cup of coffee and a cigarette. He needed a fucking detox. But it would have to wait.

Suspicion narrowed Booker’s eyes, and he immediately went on the defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean? Has someone said something about me?”

“Amazing,” we were all shocked by the looks of the beach. there were swaying trees with hut made of straw. There was everything you could think of even the sand was cool it was as white as snow. we were so stunned by the sound of slow steady wind blowing everything. The waves crashing made me swim all day.

She'd been in his apartment a matter of minutes, and Elena was already naked and about to drop to her knees to blow him. Brett felt a touch guilty as his erection throbbed in his pants. Not accustomed to paying for sex, even though there was a purpose behind it on this occasion, it didn't sit well. Nor did the knowledge that the girls dates usually accompanied them to a gala event that under other circumstances they'd never access to, or at least wined and dined them first. Sex was, of course, expected, but only as dessert rather than the entree itself. Brett was also a man who liked to take his time and ensure the women enjoyed the experience as much as he did.

Festivities filled the Chamkar Mohn quarter of Phnom Penh; fragrant arrangements of jasmine and chrysanthemum, piles of wild fruits, and vermillion decorations filled every corner of the neighborhood. Petite candles and spherical paper lanterns pushed the glimmer of the stars and moon out of sight and lit the streets as men inside of large tiger costumes performed dances. A roaring of drums and the melody of Chinese-imported instruments filled the air and thundered in my chest. Inside of my house, well-dressed men and women presented themselves to my father with gifts wrapped in silk ribbon, Ang Pao envelopes, fine artwork, and many handcrafted items. The country’s finest bakers and chefs offered golden and sterling silver platters