Short Story

The reader can tell that this man is not just some neighbor, but instead something that was not completely human and something peculiar.

“It’s fully furnished so you won’t have to do anything but bring in your wardrobe and whatever staff you require to see to your needs,” said the short stubby man as he unlocked the front door for them to enter. “The house belonged to William Gulledge. When William died, his wife Nancy continued to live here until this past February when she too passed away. She was lusty with life right up to the end and sharp as a tack too. They only had one child, a son that now lives in Boston- he instructed me to rent the place out until he decides whether he wants to keep it or sell it.”

The man sitting to Holland’s right leaned in and whispered something to his host, a rakish smile pulling at his thin lips. He exuded an air of aristocracy, his black Dolce and Gabbana suit fitting his slender frame perfectly. On his wrist, a gold Rolex watch winked in the light from the overhead chandelier, each tiny flash publicly affirming the extent of his wealth. Although in his sixties, his complexion had the smoothness of a man fifteen years his junior, and all-in-all, he cut a dashing figure. But looks could be deceiving, and beneath the suave exterior lurked a cruel, dominant man.

“You have arrived at your final destination.”, My GPS concluded in its computerized voice leaving only the harsh sound of the rain wailing on my car windows to fill the void. I cut the engine and took stock of the small colonial I’d been persuaded to dine at tonight. It was painted modest colors and seemed no different than the few other houses I’d passed on the out-of-way drive over. I could distinguish no more discerning features through the sheets of rain and the window’s translucent varnish of condensation. I exited the car and bounded up to the door with long strides crossing a previously well-kept lawn now messy and puddled with mud and standing rainwater. My rap on the door was briskly answered by the proprietor of the house, a man I

The venerable man, who appeared to be a sprite sixty years old, pacing across the street, his eyes on my house. He wore a tan jacket, and gray pants, he dressed like a sales rep at a low-end department store, and he watched my house as I studied him through the window, as he scoured my front yard. His eyes peered left and then right, and with an intense expression on his face, he squinted at the door and nodded. The man walked westward down the street towards Toledo Drive, with his hands in his pockets.

Knowing you have a mate gives you a strange type of high. You know you'll never be able to hold him, or love him or even admire him from afar without getting slander from the whole pack and yet, you still somehow find yourself hoping that maybe this is the moment when you finally break out of the prison of an isolated life.

“…and so, your cooperation is utmostly needed and required right now, Mr. Ralston,” Dorne said.

On the way into the city, the old man tried to start a conversation, but I was so shocked by the fact that I had experienced time travel that I was not very cooperative. Upon arriving in the city, I was amazed by what New York was

“Twenty-one! The Chief’s vote makes it twenty-one! And by God if that ain’t a majority I’ll eat my hat!” “Yippee,” Cheswick yells. The other Acutes are coming across toward me. “The meeting was closed,” she says. Her smile is still there, but the back of her neck as she walks out of the day room and into the Nurses’ Station, is red and swelling like she’ll blow apart any second.

Phelps and Umonakalisi reached the bottom of the stairwell, stopping just long enough to catch their breath, but with the location of their foe unknown, Phelps opened a crack in the door just wide enough to hear the silence of the empty corridor. They were alone. Their prey still alluded them, and both men burst through the doors, setting off at a sprint along the passageway. Within thirty seconds, the signs on the walls announced the beginning of Hangar G. Phelps slowed. He searched for an entrance. Then, he stopped beside one of the huge maintenance doorways and pressed the access panel. The door remained unmoved.

“What the hell is he doing here?” John asked when he opened the motel door to see his son with Sam Campbell.

I drifted nervously across the creepy foyer, the big yellow sun and the now cotton candy blue sky dotted with white puffs peaked between some of the ceiling joists. I stopped just short of the parlor and glanced around. It was like a room out of Clawstone Castle, with cobweb-covered pieces of powder blue wallpaper drooping around brass candle sconces and one chair clad in an ashen, dusty sheet. I pictured the captain and his beautiful Asian princess dancing cheek to cheek in this colossal space.

The guy behind the piano sang Sinatra songs and flirted with sophisticated women in sparkling dresses that flocked around him. Discrete waiters moved among the tables serving drinks to smartly dressed men that smoked cigarettes stored in shiny cigarette cases. A perfect playground for classy people and she was way out of her league. It seemed like a good idea to broaden her horizon when she followed the whim to go there, but she didn’t feel as certain any more. Most of the men were too old, the rest made her feel uncomfortable. She scanned the room one more time, judged it a hopeless case, took her purse and headed towards the door.

When they entered the ballroom area, the room moved around them like clockwork. Fathers and daughters swirling in synchronization around the center that sat the little orchestra playing a haunting tune. The girl’s dresses flounced out, as their heads were thrown back, eyes closed. The guys of the pair moved to the left, narrowly avoiding some of the spinning couples to come into contact with the most stereotypical male bar room, he had ever seen. Cigar smoke layered over head as fathers and sons took generous sips of whisky and chuckled with their ironically flamboyant hand gestures. The boy seemed to shrink under the atmosphere, and felt a claustrophobic nausea as he made his way closer and closer to the bar. The man working behind it

She glanced around at the crowd of people, on their faces she could see fear. She couldn’t really blame them, she was also fearful. She knew that at any given second that they could be attacked and killed. She uttered out a sigh as she bit down on her lip.The moment she felt his hand take hold of hers all her fear seemed to melt away. He was the only one that could manage to do that, she wasn’t sure what she would do without him and it frightened her. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze she slowly turned her head to look at him, her dark hues stared into his. Spreading across her face was a smile when she heard him. “Are you worried about me?” She whispered in a soft voice, she was going to tease him, but the look upon his face told her she