“Angela?” I perked up a bit, turning and placing my hand on the steel tubing that comprised the rail of the wooden bridge. I saw the girl, her jet black hair coursing with the flow of the wind, her wedge heels clipping the uneven planks. She looked just like any other girl really, apart from the paleness and the deep blue eyes.

To Be or Not to Be, That is the Existential Question" If given the power of a comic book superhero, is that person obligated to play the part for the greater good?

To Be or Not to Be, That is the Existential Question

Chapter 6:

Last Time:

“I don’t mean to be a dick, by any means,” Broderick said as he stood behind his desk in the basement of Howell’s. “But we need to step up our game.”

He was leaning on his desk, arms spread and palms open against the surface. He had what I could only describe as the most pissed off look that I had ever seen on his face and I had no idea what was going on. The rest of us, minus Craven, were gathered around the desk waiting for whatever news he was about to drop on us.

Webster’s dictionary defines Speed as the fallowing: the rate of change of position along a straight line with respect to time over a set distance. In other words, the quicker you can get from one place to another. The question is what do you, do when your family has spent the last two generations in search of ways to accomplish this goal faster and faster. Would do you do when the family business is the search for more Speed. For Robert ‘Robby’ McGuire the answer is easy. You grab your sister and strap on a pair of Formula One racecars then go for broke.

Author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Wednesday, March 28th 12:13 AM
Tyler slowly moved the arm, then leg he had slung over my body as we cuddled while coming down from our sexual highs. The warmth of his skin on mine was mesmerizing to me and I wondered if he felt anywhere near the same as I did. I watch him sit up, look back at me, and smile, "I wish I could stay longer, but Dana will probably think I got abducted or something ridiculous like that... I'm sorry, I should probably go."

The girliest school in the state gets another misfit. Can the meanest tomboy in her middle school survive four years there?

CHAPTER 82
The next few weeks passed far too quickly, as I rarely experienced them as individual days. The files managed something new, delivering a sensation I had thought burnt out of me by Evans, Cooper, Pig and all the rest: shock.

I found myself reliving Peter Nicol-Clements comments about experiences with the police, “Back then”, and I finally understood what a different world they had inhabited.

“Hun, this smells great.” He said as he sat down. They all dug in. Brook noticed that all seven Shelties where laying in a row. Maxie seemed to fall asleep, she just laid on her side and crashed.

Previously...

‘Hello?’ I said hesitantly.

“ What happened? All I remember is seeing lights then hearing crunching metal then everything went black.”

Stuck in a Rut.
By Rosalie Redd

Casey Church is a normal 13 year old girl, full of hopes and dreams and fears and anxieties. But in a world where there hasn’t been a girl born in over a century, what is normal?

Chapter 16.

CHAPTER 81
Rhod may have been glad to see me, but he had an odd way of showing it, which consisted of dumping the cat into my lap after I had slumped into the settee, followed by recounting what seemed like a century of playground gossip, largely involving children I had never heard of. Blake was at work, so Dad and Mam had driven boy and beast back to our place, together with a big pot of cawl. My larger boy was home at six, and after we had worked our way through a chip supper (I was willing neither to cook nor let Mam do so), the three of us were alone. Three, plus Fritz, who was snoring. Blake set a video going, something about climbing in North Wales he had picked up on our trip, and left boy and cat to their own devices.

“Welcome to your new home,” Rhea stepped into the house, backward, her arms dramatically outstretched. “It’s not as big as Angela’s house, but it’s home.”

“We…live here alone? Just us?” I looked around, noting that the place WAS much smaller. It was a single story house with aging wood floors, faded walls, and furniture that looked like it came from a thrift store.

“I live here too,” Mellie said, walking into the house and passing by me and tossing her purse on the couch.