What This Blog is About (with a Quote)

These lines are my vow—that by the stony centuries I am lost to, your sins will not be forgotten—I will not let history bring comfort to your bones after you took comfort from my friends and I. You chose to waste your great potential, and now your failure lunges back like an angry lion. Do not act surprised—it is only life, the life you said yourself was hard, when those words were convenient to you. You believed this life was only yours—only yours, guaranteed not by the merits you claimed to judge others by, but because of all the people of this world, you thought you were the best.

~ Lutum Hominus, 13^th Century Monk

Comments

Richards

It was him or Tavvy. And Tavvy deserved to live. He deserved to live too but she had had enough. If his last act on this Earth was to spare her a little suffering he would die honorably. Kevin Claude was a good man and he wanted to end his life good. And giving up his life for another was pretty damn good. It was Mrs. Richards. She was infamous at this point. The rookies heard about her early on, speaking in hushed whispers, like she was a ghost or something. In fact, there was a theory, one which Kevin had believed for a time, that she was a ghost—a ghost who could write checks. She came in regularly—once a week, usually on a Saturday—and her appearance never changed. Same clothes, same hair. She followed the same routine every time when it came to collecting her groceries. (Checkout was always a little different each time.) That was what ghosts did, wasn't it? Played out the same events over and over? It made Kevin wondered if he was a ghost. He could take the repeti...

How We Stand Today

Y'know, working this job: I don't think I've gone through a single day where someone hasn't interrupted my reading on a break. Like. That's how I spend my breaks. I eat, I read. I go to the bathroom if it's available, which it is occasionally. But I read. I read as much as I can. I read whole websites worth of short stories and reviews, I bring books in when I'm confident that no one will try to rob me. And every. Single. Time. I am interrupted. Sometimes it's a forgivable attempt to build up friendship, albeit a misguided one. The guy who sat way too close to me, and folded his newspaper on top of my book to ask me to do a crossword with him? He was just trying to be nice. The bagger who rants at me unbroken and breathless for all fifteen minutes about all the different computer parts he's bought? He assumes I'm interested, and I'm too anxious to tell him otherwise. But sometimes the interruption gets ridiculous. I remember once when I...

Horriblis vs. Ab-Horriblis

She didn't make it. On the road trip, that was to say. She sighed and thought about her next chance. Midori wasn't the self-pitying kind. She grieved her lost vacation—again—and got ready to go back up over the top. One day she'd get a chance to relax and solve mysteries. For now, she had to get to keeping the books. She'd been promoted—quite against her will—and now she ran coupons and drawers in the back office. She never got to see this place in any detail before, but now she could see she wasn't missing much. A dry and dusty room, this was—and little else. She reached up to where they kept the SOP manuals. Ugh—that was dusty too. Too dusty, in fact—she hoped this would be up-to-date with their tech. Huh. This wasn't an SOP manual. Unless “Horriblis” had something to do with Sun Valley. She'd never heard of a product by that name, in any case. Nor did she recognize the author. There was no “Angelo” here. Oh well. She set it asi...

ReTales

Search This Blog