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Heavy Word

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"Hey, Son."

I love it when she calls me that. It's so simply perfect in every way, and I don't think she knows it. Of course, it's a statement of the obvious, but I don't believe that she means to remind me of the biological order of events that needed to occur in order for me to be standing here, today. In order for the implications in that address to hold fast to truth.

No. I'm sure that when she says it, and each time she says it, she means to remind me of the weight it holds for her. And the exponential weight it's gained with each ounce, with each pound, with each inch, with each foot, with each day, and with each year. From the moment she first held me in Balboa Naval Hospital not 25 minutes drive from here, to this moment now; as I hold her in return.


Valhalla Girl

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Having played the last song of the night, Christian glanced up from his guitar case, scanning the club patrons’ sweaty faces. His attention focused on a stunning blonde haired woman, who stood apart from the crowd. Or rather the crowd is standing apart from her and with good reason, Christian thought. He took mental stock of the woman. Her waist length hair shimmered beneath the club’s lighting effects, but not as brightly as her metal bustier and chain mail skirt, not to mention the spear. Christian turned and nudged the bass player, Vic.


Avoiding Accidents

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“I was just out for a while,” Jason said into the phone.

“You were out way too long!  I knew I couldn't trust you,”  replied Kelly over the phone.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“You've already promised.  Your promises are worthless.  I've had it!  If this ever happens again, and I mean EVER, then we'll be done!  For Good!”


Death of Sanity

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Do people who've gone insane recognize the changes they've gone through that got them where they are? What I mean to say is do they know they are going crazy? Are they helpless to the events happening to their minds? Or are they oblivious to the events, making their life an ever morphing horror movie? Both sound very intriguing, I don't think I could choose one way or another. I think the journey alone is an adventure worth experiencing. Which brings me to the paradoxical question am I sane? Conventionally no, but I understand this. This is why I will choose and not allow time or fate to make a choice for me.



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Every inch of me trembles.

I'd trade every breath I have left for the courage to chomp down and let his sweet blood pool in the back of my throat.

The heat and rolling gurgle would be enough satisfaction to offset the coughing – I'd need to dislodge the liquid out of my windpipe eventually.


Randall's Clown

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Randall Jensen woke up very early today.  Today was his first day of school.  The five year old dressed himself in the clothes that were laid out for him, and then ran wildly down the stairs.  He quickly fixed himself a bowl of cereal and ate it down.  He then started playing with his toy truck to pass the time while his mother slowly awoke and prepared for her day.

While playing with the truck, a figure appeared before Randall.  The figure was adult in size, somewhat translucent, and looked like a clown.  He had a seriously silly smile on his face which seemed fixed in place.  His eyes locked onto Randall and didn't veer away.

“Randall...Randall...wanna have some fun?” asked the clown.



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Once upon a time, Naomi noticed someone posting as her on the Internet. Ordinarily identity theft would be a problem; however, identity theft proved a disaster in Naomi’s case. Her catering supply business ran into danger. While the Internet offered new business pipelines, her catering supply business pipelined into the area catering—parties, dining, receptions for bored brokers and bankers. When High Frequency Trading HFT had been moved from Wall Street and installed in the Middle West United States, Naomi’s catering business moved along with High Frequency Trading. High Frequency Trading profit jumped. Naomi’s business profit jumped. Unfortunately, impersonation and hacking jumped with it.


Dear Harold

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Dear Harold,

It was real good to see you the other night. Not many guys would have bought a girl pretzels on a first date. To me it was a real sign of you. Like a statement, I guess you would say.

Anyway, I think you should not be too embarrassed because your fly stuck open at the dance. I don't think people noticed. They looked at you and laughed because of that funny joke you told I am sure. I felt bad you had to explain it three times to those dummies at our table. But some folks just are not too swift you know.


Death by Diamond

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What a keen sensation it gave me! Riding on a night-bullet-train, head out the window, sharp daggers of air against my face. Yes, I stole the diamonds. And it felt good.

The only problem was that I knew you'd soon catch up with me. Then I’d be reduced. Made into a regurgitated bean.


For Rome

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Breakfast was impossible. Hard bread was never the most appetising of meals, but that morning I just could not find the courage to force it down. The sun was so hot and the bread so dry, my lips so chapped and my stomach so tight.

This unease had been building in me for weeks. At first I thought it was just seasickness, but we had reached land days ago and yet still it remained. I knew what was causing it, but I had so far refused to admit to such un-Roman weakness . Now, however, it had grown so strong that I could no longer ignore it; it was so much bigger than me.

I sat down on a dune and looked out over the bay. Despite the sickness of my mind, I tried to see things as I ought to.

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