Should Have Seen Him Coming Dark passages stretched out in all directions on the TV screen wall. Kei smirked as he reviewed the tenth floor security camera tapes; no sign of his entry. Too bad the cameras werent set up better; they might have seen him coming.
Every department store hed robbed lately had the same problem: too many blind spots in their surveillance. Such a travesty made him want to go into the security field himself just to set up a challenging system, one that hed spend more than ten minutes figuring out a way past. He wanted one that forced him to delve into his bag of tricks instead of simply mapping out a safe rout with no cameras.
The night guard on the floor behind him groaned, regaining consciousness. It took her long enough Kei quickly fastened his famous white mask over his blue eyes and turned to the bound burnet behi
Searching for You //Too many 'to be' verbs... Third sentence in a row starting with 'It'... Same adjective used three times in one paragraph... Pretty good plot, though... Nice character development.... Maybe this Shireese is worth supporting through to publication, with some work...//
I glanced up from the manuscript in my lap to stare across the table at Miko. He looked exceptionally beautiful, clad in a simple light blue tank top and jeans -his usual attire- but today he let his hair down. I stared for a while, eyes tracing the way those long silky black strands fell about his golden skin and over his slanted eyes, finally responding with a witty "Hm?"
"Well, are you going to eat your pastry?" he asked, his own pastry half on his face and half still in tact on the plate in fr
Star Gazing Silence drifted on the warm breeze, disturbed ever so slightly by the gentle rustling of leaves. The meadow stood empty, save for the small duck family floating in a pond near the center. Cain's eyes scanned the green grassland before him anxiously for any sign of a person. Properly satisfied that he was alone, he settled himself into the grass beside the small water hole. He hardly ever had any time to himself, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. His father's servants never gave him any peace. Though he didn't mind the women, sometimes it grew tiresome to have so many chittering females about all at once.
He sighed and flopped backward to look at the sky. It was beautiful hazy dusky blue, a sign that the sun would be gone soon.
Summer. His favorite season. He loved their warmth, the animals that pl
Waiting Patiently for You... Upbeat party pop poured out of the cafe jukebox; not many of these ancient music devices existed in public domains nowadays, but nobody minded when they were there. Well, almost nobody. Across the room, sitting in the only occupied red booth seat sat Samuel Thither fidgeting away. His lunch date was running late -a whipping thirty minutes- and the song filling hid ears only made the thoughts playing through his mind all the more difficult to ignore.
Who writes songs about avoiding people anyway? He pondered miserably, trying to focus on the drink menu still held in his hands.
The green haired waitress kept stopping by periodically to see if he was ready to order, emphasizing to him that she had other customers to cater.
I must look like I'm loitering or something... One trembling hand straye
In the School After Hours Beautiful ballroom music floated down the empty halls of the school as though ushered by a ghost. No one stood around in the halls to listen to the music; there was no one around to hear it. School had called out hours ago, and the students had all gone home. By now, even the teachers had made their way out of the establishment. Those that still inhabited the school were the janitors, and the owner of the mysterious music filling the nights silence. To any passer-by, the music could presumably have originated from the janitors growing weary of the eerie noiseless air they worked in night after night, but to a certain student hidden in his English teachers classroom, the music was his escape from the world. He sat erect in a generic plastic chair, arms holding a silver flute poised to his lips. Slender fingers played across the many keys in time with the music flowing from the CD-stereo on the desk beside him. The shrill
Star River Classical piano music floated through the warm English café air, ushered out by black box stereos on platforms close to the wooden ceiling. Below customers chatted joyfully among themselves, adding a dull drone to the rhythmical tunes from above. Nearly every table was filled with happy couples drinking the house special tea and talking about their future plans. It seemed that everyone was accompanied by someone else; everyone except for the young high school student sitting at a round table in the rooms far corner. Strands of long blond hair hung down in his face as he sat hunched over a blank drawing pad in his lap. He sighed at the paper and nestled his chin deeper into the light blue scarf wrapped around his neck. A steaming cup of tea sat adjacent to him, utterly forgotten about.
No inspiration yet, Ambrose? a brunet waitr
Three months have passed since I arrived in England for My extended learning and Ive met the most amazing person. Ill write more about him here shortly. I fear that if I do not get everything else out of the way my letter will only speak of him.
It is different here than at home, very much different. People say things in round about ways and familiar things all have new names like ice-lolly or the Lou. But the area is beautiful, as is the college. Youd be jealous, Im certain. It looks like a historic stone castle such as the ones featured in those fantasy movies you like so much. There is little hiking to be done here, so Ive taken to walks in the country (Youll probably manage at last to beet me to the top of the next mountain I climb with you). There are miles upon miles of grasslands as far as the eye can see; like Californi
Thanksgiving Mishaps, or... Thanksgiving, a time for learning and spending time with family and friends, is also infamous for cooking mishaps. In all of my history of Thanksgivings, I have never eaten a thanksgiving dinner at the traditional hour: lunch time. My mother and father usually cook the meal, and something or another goes wrong. One year, they forgot to defrost the turkey the year before, and the next year, our dog Spot ate all of the pie. Im glad to say, however, that Ive only had one year which I will never forget.
The day of Thanksgiving, my parents invited over a slew of friends for a feast. Since they expected so many guests, two turkeys were required. They put one in the microwave and the other in the oven, hoping that the food would be cooked quickly. Crock pots found outlets left and right so that yams, mashed potatoes, and other delicacies could accompany the delightful birds.
The Colors I cryThe color of tea, the essence of grass
I scatter across the caramel canvas.
A porcelain sky and a pine-forest floor,
An explosion of lemon- I've drawn in a door
And deep inside bloom soft blueberry spots
And on them I draw rich plum apricots.
An ebony moon rises high in the sky,
And I add in deep sapphire; (the tears that I cry)
Ashen-winged doves and copper-tailed dogs
Mill all about with little mint frogs.
Ginger trees stretch up leaves made of wine,
And pewter black bushes drawn in a line
Dusky red clouds swim through the sky,
With little black sparrows all trying to fly.
All this and more, I paint in with ease,
And a soft azure hue brings in the breeze