Art and the philosophy of life

Archive for the ‘Short Stories’ Category

A Short story…passion, surprises and the loves of ones life.

“Tell me about the love of your life,” said Marcy.  “I never had that kind of passionate love.  I married to get out of the house.  He was a couple of years older than I was and I thought he was a good choice.  I was wrong.”

“Big time.”

“When my mother died, I found my wedding pictures.  She cut his face out of every single photo.”

“Smart woman, your mother.”

The laughed and started eating their blueberry pie and ice cream.

“I had two loves of my life.”

“Of course you did,” sighed Marcy.  “Why am I not surprised?”

“I was married to the love of my life, in this lifetime.”

“I know that.  So, who was the other one?” said Marcy.

“Many years ago, I was in a brand new, tiny, well-lit bookstore.”

“Big surprise,” shorted Marcy.

“The shelving units were very low.   Anyone could see over them.  Anyway, I was looking at a book, but felt a strong urge to look up.  The guy in the next aisle was staring at me.  Everything in me immediately reacted to him.  I knew him.  I loved him.  We were happy somewhere.  In another lifetime, I guess, but we knew each other.   Who knows what the relationship had been, siblings, friends, lovers.  Could have been anything, but I was loved him completely.”

“These things never happen to me.  Why do these things never happen to me?”

“Because you never go into bookstores, that’s why.”

“Good point.  Please continue.”

“He looked as surprised as I felt.  We smiled at each other then, still grinning, he looked down, and shook his head, as if what was happening shouldn’t be happening.  We stared at each other for a minute or two, smiling and communicating through our expressions, then we nodded at each other and went on our way.  I’m not wrong about this, Marcy.  It was like seeing someone I loved but hadn’t seen for a very long time.  Someone I didn’t realize I even missed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

“I just thought of him today, when a song triggered the memory.   Even now, after all these years, just thinking about him, makes me happy.”

“And you never said a word to each other?”

“We didn’t have to.”

“I hate you,” said Marcy, scrapping her plate with her fork.  “Reallllllly hate you.  I would have tackled him.”

“I’m just glad I got to see him.”

“It’s going to be hard for me to hang out in bookstores, since they’re all gone.”

“That’s true.”

“You should have told me about bookstores before.”

“I did.”

“I still hate you.”

“I know.  It’s okay.”

“Do you still love him?”


“Too bad you don’t know his name.”

“It doesn’t matter.  It was just one of those extraordinary moments.”



Neon…a short story.

nothing is impossible signage

“I’d like to speak to the manager, please,” she said, politely.

“Why?” he asked.

“Are you the manager?”


“Then obviously,  you are not the person I …”

“I’ll get him.  Stay here.”

“Why would I go away?”

“How should I know?”

A tall, lanky, man came out from a back room.

“How can I help you?” he asked, smiling.

“Your sign is a lie and you need to take it down.”

“It’s not a lie, and I paid a fortune for it.  I’m not taking it down.”

“There are a billion things that are impossible.  Let me see you fly.”


“Without a plane or hang glider.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you saying that it’s impossible for humans to fly without a plane, or device.”


“Count backward from a million in twenty seconds.  Start….NOW,” she said, looking at the timer on her phone.

He stared at her.”

“Can’t do that either, can you,” she said.  “How about this one:  get pregnant, then try and get an abortion in Texas.”

“Okay, so everything isn’t possible.  What’s your point?”

“My point IS, that there are MORE things that are impossible for us to DO, than there are things we can do.  Let me see you stop war, or hatred. How about stopping disease, or aging, or death.  How about making the world a place filled with friendship, and equality, a paradise for animals.  Can you stop all violence on earth.  Turn people into gardeners for the earth.  Bring back our ancestors, so we can put them on trial for crimes against humanity.”

“What do you want from me?” asked the manager, tiredly.

“I want you to stop telling lies and take down the sign.”

“No.  Not a chance.”

“Have it your way,” she said, waking toward the door.

“What do you think she meant by that, boss?”

“No idea.”

Once outside, she cackled with glee, and released her flying monkeys.

And that, my dear friends, was the end of the sign that told a lie. Oh, one more thing.  The manager, started walking with a limp that very night, but surely that can’t have anything to do with him refusing to take down the sign, right?”

Hitman…chapter one.

The alarm clock hit the wall and fell to the floor. Terry turned over in bed and pulled the covers over his head.  I have to get shades on the windows to block out the bloody light, he thought for the nine thousandth time,  The phone rang, then followed the flight path of the clock.  Together they lay upon the dusty wooden floor and waited.

There was a knock on the door.  He growled and said, ” I have a GUN and it’s pointed at the door.”

The knocking continued, becoming more persistent and a lot LOUDER.

Terry wondered it anyone’s head ever exploded from a hangover.  He imagined that it happened all the time, but the liquor companies just kept it quiet.

He rolled off the bed and waited until the room stopped spinning before he got up.  Then he made his way to the door, threw it open, and said, “Whatever it is, it better be good enough to stop me from killing you where you stand.”

“The Order has a job for you,” said Miles, a tall, skinny man in a dark blue suit, who brushed past Terry and made his way to the kitchen table.  He opened his briefcase, pulled out three files and said,  “Oh, do sit down, Terry, but put some clothes on first.  You look…terrible.”

“I should kill you,” whispered Terry.  “It would be a great way to start this day and they’d never find your body.”

“Yes, yes, kill me, hide the body, and all that.  If you would stop drinking for a day or two, you might not feel as bad as you always do.  And really, only certain vampires have eyes as red as yours.”

“I really hate you,” said Terry, pulling on the sweatpants that were thrown over the living room chair.  “Good enough?” he asked, holding out his arms.

“You’re disgusting, but yes, they’re good enough.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come here, you know.”

“Well, since you never come to the office, what other choice do we have?”

“We have an office?” he asked, frowning.  “Where is it?”

“I rest my case,” sighed Miles.

“Has anyone ever liked you?  Did your mother ever like you?  Anyone?  Anyone at all?”

“The only thing you hate about me is that I’m a functioning human being, as opposed to being an alcoholic dead beat.”

“I am not an alcoholic, Miles, nor am I a dead beat.  As for the functioning human being, you know I’m not completely human, so now my feelings are hurt.”

“Three files.  Three hits.  Need to be done fast.”

Terry tapped the files, then pointed to the door.  “Go away Miles and never darken my door again.”

“He wants these done by Friday.”

“Why?  What’s the rush?”

“No idea.”

“You never ask any questions, do you,” he said.

“I like breathing.”

Terry nodded.  “I’m going back to bed.  If you stay here, clean up the place.  It’s starting to get messy.”

Miles looked around, then closed his eyes.  “You could be so much more than you are.”

“Could’t we all,” said Terry, walking away.


The pact…a short story.

“You can’t be serious,” said Katie, staring at her.

“What?” said Milly.

“You can’t wear that to the wedding.”

“Why not?”

“You look like you’re going to a funeral.”

“I thought that’s what this was,” said Milly, looking down at her dress and shoes.

“You can’t wear all black, and what’s with the black veil?”

“I got this outfit to wear when she divorces him and we take her out to cheer her up.”

“You are an evil friend,” said Katie.

“That’s why she likes me more than she likes you.”

“You’re the Maid of Honor,” groaned Katie.

“She said we could wear anything we wanted to wear.”

“You’re right,” said Katie.  “Besides, she knows that you’re evil and will do something awful.”

“It’s not a traditional wedding, Katie.  It’s a pre-divorce wedding.”

“I wish I could argue with you, but you’re right.  How do I look?”

“How do you want to look?” asked Milly

“EVIL.  You are truly an EVIL friend.”

“You look beautiful, just like always.  You will outshine the bride.  You do that every single time.”

“I do not,” said Katie, stamping her foot.

“You know she’s only marrying him for the experience of getting married, don’t you.”

“Of course I know that.”

“I don’t think she even likes him,” said Milly. “How could she?  I mean he’s handsome enough, but I don’t think he’s ever read a book.”

Katie laughed.  “She always said she wanted a man who didn’t really speak but simply worshiped at her wonderfulness.”

“She did say that,” snickered Milly.  “Looks like her wish came true.  How long do you think they’ll last?”

“Until after the honeymoon.”

“That long?” asked Milly, surprised.

Katie nodded.

“I’m giving them until after the reception.”

“You might be right.  It’s only pretend, after all.”

“What’s his name, again?”

“It’s DRAKE.  You know it’s DRAKE.”

“Oh, right.  A male duck, or goose of some kind, right?”

“Maybe,” said Katie.  I’m not sure, but it’s something like that.  Ask an ornithologist.”

“So, our swan is marrying a common goose.”

“A bit dramatic,” said Katie, “even for you.”

“I disagree.”

“Of course, you do,” she sighed.

“I guess we should leave, if we don’t want to be any later than we already are,” said Milly.  “I mean, aren’t we supposed to be there to help put flowers in her hair, or something?”

“QUICK,” yelled Katie.  “To the car.  HURRY.  RUN.”

They ran, laughing, jumped into the car and raced to The Garden.

“I like that she’s getting married at The Botanic Garden,” said Milly.  “It will be pretty, and give us something to look at so we don’t start laughing when they say I do.”

“HOLD ON,” shouted Katie, taking a corner.

“Aside from the fact that he’s cute and doesn’t speak, what do you think she sees in him?”

“Maybe he’s a fantastic lover,” chuckled Katie.”

“I doubt it.  She would have told us, if he was.  And she’s had fabulous lovers before and she didn’t marry any of them.  You don’t think she actually loves him, do you?”

“Do be silly.  She’s not like that,” said Katie.  “Besides we made a pact.  She’d never go back on her word.”

“We were ten years old when we made the pact,” said Milly.  I’m not sure doing the bloody pact hand and saying we would always be best friends until death and that we would never marry, or have fewer than three cats, counts any longer.”

“Of course it counts.  Pacts are forever,” said Katie, who slammed on the breaks, watching Milly fly into the dashboard.  “You shouldn’t take your seatbelt off until the car stops moving.  We’re here.  I’m sure someone will have ice to put on your forehead.”

“I think a concussion will make the wedding more interesting.”

“Big baby,” chuckled Katie, looking at the lump forming on Milly’s face.  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Who are you and where am I?” swooned Milly.

“NOT funny.

“WELL, FINALLY,” shouted Virgo, running toward them.  “How could you be this late?  What’s WRONG WITH YOU?  I’m getting married in an hour and why are you dressed for a funeral?”

Milly smiled at her.

“Is that your divorce outfit?”

“It is,” said Milly.

“I told her not to wear it,” sighed Katie.  “I said you’d last until after the honeymoon.  She didn’t think you’d make it that long.”

“Sadly, you two are my best friends.  Where did I go wrong?”

“What about our pact?” asked Katie.

“What about it?” said Virgo.

“You’re not planning on breaking it for real, are you?”

“We were ten, in my parents garage, bleeding all over the place.  It looked like a crime scene,” laughed Virgo.

“It was a blood oath,” said Katie.

Virgo looked at Milly.  “Is she serious?”

“She is,” said Milly.  “The pact has always meant everything to her.  You know that.”

They all looked at the scars on their hands.

“Do you love him?” asked Katie.

“I don’t know,” said Virgo, shrugging.

“Does he know about the pact?” said Katie.

“What?” asked Virgo.

“She wants to know if you told the goose guy about our pact,” said Milly.

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?” said Katie.

“I may have mentioned it when he asked about the scar on my hand.”

“He’s a goose,” said Milly  “You’re marrying a bloody GOOSE.”

“Drake is a family name,” said Virgo, but they all burst our laughing.

“She’s named after a constellation,” said Katie.

“It’s my BIRTH sign,” said Virgo.

“We kind of know that,” said Milly, grinning at her.

“Getting back to the pact,” said Katie.  “Stay on task.”

“Right now, the wedding is my task,” said Virgo.  You’re both supposed to help me get ready.”

“You look ready to me,” said Milly.

“I’m wearing a BATHROBE!”

“It looks nice,” said Milly.  “I think everyone will like it.  You may even start a trend.  Besides, you said it was a come as you are, wedding.”

“Let’s get her ready,” said Katie, flatly.

The Botanic Garden had set aside a room for their use.

“I love your dress,” said Milly, sweetly.  “The teal makes your eyes look fabulous.”

“Well, we all know I couldn’t possibly wear white.”

They all laughed again.

“The hippie is marrying you, right?” asked Milly.

“You know he is and he’s not a hippie, he just lives an alternative lifestyle.”

“So, only part of the pact is still true?” asked Katie.

“For the moment,” said Virgo, hugging her friend.

“It’s just that Tommy asked me to marry him a few months ago and I said no, because of the pact, even though I love him.”

There was dead silence in the room.  Milly and Virgo stared at her.

“I thought the pact was real,” whispered Katie.

Virgo sat down on the floor and Milly put her arms around Katie.  “Katie Bear, you never told us.”

“What was there to tell?  I gave my word and my blood to both of you.”

There was a knock on the door.  “Five minutes, Virgo,” said her aunt.

Virgo got to her feet and went to the door.  She opened it and smiled at her aunt.  “Please tell everyone the wedding is off. ”

“What?” asked her aunt, shocked.

“Have the party and let everyone have fun.  Tell Drake I’ll talk to him in a bit.”  Then she closed the door and turned to her friends.

“I love you,” said Virgo.  “The pact stands.  I am renewing my oath.  Friends forever.  Never marry.  Never have fewer than three cats.”

Katie and Milly, repeated their oaths as well.

Virgo removed the diamond stud from her earlobe and used the post to cut a slit in her hand.  Then she passed the earring to the Katie, who cut her hand and passed it to Milly.  They touched palms and said, “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER.”

Drake and Virgo moved into their apartment, with their three cats, Timmy, Toots and Smoke.

Milly and Virgo convinced Katie to contact Tommy and ask if he wanted to move in with her and her four cats.  He did.  As soon as possible.

Milly opened a bar called, THE TRIPLE VOW, which was a smashing success.  The place was full of cats, who laid on the bar getting pets and kisses from patrons.  There was a tiny spot in the back for those who were allergic to them, but no one ever sat there.

All and all, things worked out pretty well.

The thing is, a pact is a pact, no matter when it’s made.  If you truly put your heart and blood into it, then it has to last.

And, tired and worn as the phrase may be, they really did all live happily ever after.








“Where did you meet her?”

“By my pond.  She was sitting on a bench, having lunch.  I think she was eating a cheese sandwich with pickles.  She had chips as well.  I herd them crunching, as she bit into them.”

“When did she notice you?” asked the interviewer.

“I croaked at her.  She looked down at me and smiled.  Then she said hello and offered me a bit of bread.  I like flies, but I didn’t think it would be polite to ask her to catch any for me, so I just smiled back.”

“Then what happened?”

“She told me about her life.  What had happened in the past and how she felt about the future.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, I croaked some more, telling her that everything would be okay, but I’m not sure she understood everything I said.”

“I can understand the language problems.  Not unusual, of course.”

“No.  It’s quite common, actually.”

“Please tell me more,” said the interviewer.

“In the end, she asked if she could kiss me.  She said it was possible that I was her prince.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t think it was true.  But she was very sad, so I told her that she could kiss me.”

“Then what happened?”

“She held out her hand and I hopped on.”


“She smiled at me and said that if I wasn’t her prince, it would be okay, and she would love me no matter what happened.  She said she was grateful for my help.”

“Is that when she kissed you?”

“Yes.  She kissed me gently, then waited.”

“So you didn’t turn into her prince, did you,” signed the interviewer.

“Oh, yes.  I did turn into her prince.  Apparently, I was quite handsome, if she is to be believed.”

“Well, why aren’t you together?” asked the interviewer, quickly, looking around.  “Where is she?”

“She went home to pack.  We’re running away.  Going  someplace with bigger ponds.”

“Are you able to stay in human form for long periods of time?”

“I’m not sure.  It’s something I’ll have to get used to, I suppose.”

“And she’s okay with that?”

“We’re still working out the details.”

“Well, good luck to both of you, and may you have a long and wonderful life together.”

“Thank you very much.  I hope you have a nice day.”

“You too,” said the interviewer, closing her folder.  Thank you for your time.”


Photo:  Ksama





Mr. Holmes…A Short Story…

Woman, Portrait, Light, Projector, Smoke

She sat in the back room of the Pink Penguin
waiting for Sherlock Holmes to arrive
she had
after all
written to him several weeks ago
and while she had not received a reply
she knew of his interest
in strange cases
The Pink Penguin Bar and Grill
was located well outside of London
but she felt that
in spite of his advanced age
flying would make
his travels much more comfortable
perhaps Dr. Watson
would accompany him
and together
they would be able to tell her
why she could hear
what light beams were saying
if anyone knew about such things
she thought to herself
it would certainly be
Mr. Holmes
and she was quite sure
that he would be
very excited
about what light beams
had to say

A short story about humans…

man in black t-shirt and black pants holding fire

“They’re burning books,” she said, looking out of the cafe window.

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.  We keep doing the same things over and over, with just a few years in between.”

“What’s wrong with people?”

“How much time do you have?” he asked, putting his coffee cup onto its saucer.  “I like drinking out of a real cup.  I don’t know why everything has to be disposable nowadays.”

She looked at him.  “Speed, that’s why.  We all want everything yesterday, and no one wants to wash dishes.”

“I like dishes that you can wash and use again.”

“I know you do,” she said.

“They aren’t just burning books, there are other things in the fire.  Looks like wood, and bits I don’t recognize. The books just happened to be there.”

“Should I go outside and quote passages from FAHRENHEIT 451?” she asked.

“Only if you want to die. You know they don’t think.  They follow orders.  They stopped thinking for themselves so long ago, I doubt they have any individual thoughts left at all.”

“So 1984, finally meets FAHRENHEIT 451.  How did the world get to this point?”

“It’s always been at this point, it’s just finally spilling over the edge.  It’s not like we weren’t warned.  Red flags were everywhere.”

“I think it’s due to apathy, our refusal to face the truth, and the fact that we don’t make the government answer to the people.”

“Partly, but we never had control of the government, not from the beginning.”

“The whole world is falling apart.”

“Are you going to eat your salad?”

“No, you can have it,” she said, sliding the plate toward him.”


“War never goes away anymore.”

“It never will,” he said, munching on a hunk of lettuce.  “Too much money in it.”

“But people don’t want war.”

“People have nothing to do with war.  A few disgusting men just send people to die, while they phone each other and make threats.”

“Let’s get a grilled cheese and split it.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding.  “Tomato?”

“Sure,” she agreed.  “How long before they kill us?”

“Not long.”

“Shouldn’t we do something about that?”

“No, of course not.   We’re apathetic, remember.  We leave things to others, and if others can’t stop them from killing everyone without us, then we’ll all die. That’s just the way it is.”

“Does that have to be the way it is?” she asked, frowning.

“I doubt it, but what would you like to do about what’s happening?”

She shrugged.  “I’ll order  couple malts and then check the radiation levels.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, finishing the salad.


Photo:  Kayle Kaupanger








Neon and How they Met…

Pink and Blue Heart Neon Signage

“I thought this was a deli,” she said, standing in front of the counter.

“It is.  What would you like?” he asked.

“What about the soul thing?”

“What about it?”

“You want to hold my soul?”

“Uh, how would I do that?” he asked, frowning.  “We aren’t even sure there is such a thing and besides, even if souls existed, they’d be invisible, or misty, and no one could hold one.”

“So what does the sign mean?”

“It means our food is so good, you’ll feel it in your soul and never forget it.”

She laughed.  “Wow, that’s a lot of pressure to put on a lunch dish.”

“We can handle it,” he said, smiling.  “So you’re a virgin?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re first time here,”  he said.

“Oh, yes.  First time here.”

“Then you have to write your name and number, or email, on one of those tags,” he said pointing to a small table, “and put it in the jar.   You might win a hundred dollars, or a free meal.  This is the only chance you’ll have to add your name.  Once you leave, when you return, you will no longer be a virgin.   And before you ask, yes men are virgins too.  Anyone who is here for the first time, qualifies for the prizes.”

“I’m a vegetarian.  What do you suggest?”

He thought for a moment and said.  “Go sit down.  I gotcha.”

Twenty minutes later he walked over and placed five dishes of delicious looking food in front of her.

“This one’s on me,” he said.  “Don’t worry about the cost, just enjoy the food.  I think we’re going to go out, then get married, have one kid, a dog, two cats and a pet rat. But hey, maybe that’s just my dream.  Eat up.”

She watched him walk away and started laughing, after which she tried hard not to make too many groaning sounds as she ate.


“Glad you liked it,” he said, smiling.  “How about the date?”

“I like rats,” she said. “Is this how you get to hold my soul?  By making me fall in love with you?”

“It happens in all different ways, but this is one of them.  Yes.”

“I’m crazy about neon.”

“Dancing?  Friday night?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Meet me here at seven?”


“You probably want another slice of rye bread, am I right?”

She held out her hand, he gave her the bread, and waved as she left.


Photo:  Emre Can Acer


EXIT…a short story.

Man in Black Jacket Standing Near Door

“Where does that exit to?” he asked.  “It’s kind of strange looking.”

“A lot of people say that,” she said, distractedly.

“They do?”

She nodded.  “But not everyone notices the doorway.”

“How could they miss it?” he asked, staring at the opening.  “It’s so obvious. Kind of enticing, in a creepy but exciting way.”

She looked up.  “How old are you?”


“Just answer the question,” she sighed.

“Thirty five.  How old are you?”

“Older than that, and you don’t want to go through that door.”

“Why would you say THAT,” he laughed.  “Now I’m REALLY curious.”

“It’s for employees only.”

“It doesn’t say that on any sign.”

“I’m making a sign right now,” she said, picking up a magic marker.

“You’re doing a crossword puzzle. You’re not making a sign.”

“Listen, it’s a special door.  Once you go through it…you don’t come back.  It’s not something you want to do, unless the pull is so strong, you can’t resist it.”

He stared at the blackness, surrounded by green paint.  “Why green?”

She shrugged. “No idea.”

“It seems eerie, kind of unworldly,” he said, reaching out to touch the wall.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.  Why don’t you go back to the bar and join your friends.”

“The wall feels soft,” he said, frowning.  “How is that possible?”

“Look,” she sighed.  “It’s a doorway.  An EXIT to somewhere else.”

“Where else?”

“It changes.  All I know is that you never come back from wherever it takes you.”

“Why is it here?” he asked, reaching for the wall once again.

“It’s not the only place like this.  There are EXIT doors scattered over the earth, it’a a way to…get off the planet and out of a life you no long want.”

“What?” he said, suddenly staring at her.  “It’s a door of Death?”

“Not always.”

“What does THAT mean?”

“I think it might take you to another time or place.  Place being the operative word.  You could end up anywhere…anywhere but here, in this time period, or you could just die.”

“It’s a time-traveling doorway?”

“Sort of.”

“Different universes?”

“A possibility for sure.  Also a Black Hole, so you’ll stop existing forever.”

He ran his hands over the wooden doorframe.  “Amazing,” he whispered.”

“I think you should back up.”

“Don’t you want to know what’s on the other side of this door?”

“I do not and, if you were smart, neither would you.”

“Are you the doorkeeper?”

“I guess.”

“Then you should want me to go through.”

“Fine,” she said, “but you only have yourself to blame for what happens to you.”

“Are there monsters out there waiting?”

“Of course, but there are monsters in this bar as well.”

“I’m a little afraid,” he said, still concentrating on the blackness of the doorway.

“You should be terrified.”

“Do I need a ticket?”


“One, please.”

She sighed, and pulled out a huge, worn, book from under the counter.  She stamped something several times, then ripped off a tag.  “Sign here.”

He barely turned from the doorway, scrawling his name on the page.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, handing him a ticket stub.  “You’re free to go through the door.”

The second he crossed the threshold he started turning to mist.  She heard the door open, heard him gasp, then heard the door slam shut.  She closed the heavy book and slid it back under the counter, then waited for the next lost soul, looking for a way out.


Photo:  Juanico

Wings…a very short story.

Young Blond Woman Disguised as Angel Kneeling on Bus with Hands Clasped

Put them away,” whispered the boy, quickly looking around.  “You’re supposed to keep them hidden.”

“I don’t care,” she said.  “They need to breath, once in awhile.  Besides, people aren’t looking, and even if they were, no one would see them.”

“You’re still not supposed to take your wings out when you’re on earth.”

“But it feels so good to stretch them,” she sighed.  “I don’t see how it hurts anything.”

“What if you get caught?”

“What if I do,” she said, angrily.  “They’re my wings and I should be able to do whatever I want to do with them.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“Who said it doesn’t?  Aren’t you sick of following rules made up by others?  I am, and I’m not going to do it any longer.  I don’t want to be controlled and live according to what someone else wants.”

“They’ll erase you,” he said.  “For good.”

“They have to catch me first.”

“They will.  They always do.”

“Not always,” she said.

“Don’t kill too many humans in one place,” he warned.  “They’ll look for that.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said.  “Of course I won’t.”

“I hope I see you again sometime, but….”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said, softly.  “Be careful, and be strong.”

He nodded, and disappeared.

She sat on the floor of the bus, closed her eyes, and breathed in the sweet smell of blood, running through the living bodies sitting in the seats behind her.



Photo:  Anastasiia Shevchenko







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