Hikeeba begins a Science Fiction novel 2/14Then all of a sudden, Rosanna's feelings became too overwhelming for her and she bolted from the secluded corner in the restaurant. Ryan yelled out to her but it was too late - she had already zoomed out of the parking lot in her new red convertible.
While Rosanna drove, she tried to sort out what she was feeling inside. On one hand she cared for Ryan as the friend that would always be there for her. On the other, she felt a spark ignite in her every time his hand touched hers. She had to decide right here and now if she wanted to act on these feelings.
This was the sure sign that Rosanna had grown up in so many ways. No longer that young, sometimes daring girl who loved sports and being a tomboy. Now she was a beautiful young woman who at the tender age of seventeen felt deep meaningful feelings of love. She could either act on these feelings and risk losing the friendship of her best friend, or keep them hidden making herself miserable and eventually probably losing him as a friend still. Rosanna knew what had to be done and she decided that today would be the day.
Had I but known the ancient, dank history of Castle Windvere, I would
never have entered gaping maw of its stained glass front doors.
I should have been alerted at once by the stained glass door. After all,
it occurred to me later, castles don't typically have stained glass doors.
The doors of castles are heavy, solid wood, the better to resist attackers.
The stained glass door of Castle Windvere meant that the builders
of this castle were well aware that NOBODY WANTED TO GET IN. If only I
had realized this in time!
Flicking her cigarette contemptuously and tossing her thick mane of
hair, Thyla adjusted the straps of her halter top and barked with her
trademark raucous, sneering laughter - laughter known to have unmanned many
a suitor.
Twyla basked in the rampant sexuality that oozed out of every pore, reveling
in the assorted people whose eyes followed her like burning suns. Unmanned
suitors lay in her wake, gasping for air like beached trout. Twyla took
a deep toke from her joint, feeling every limb relax into a torpid sensuality.
She glanced down at her halter top and panted slightly, letting her head
roll back. Several nubile young gentlemen, their eyes flaming uncontrollably
with need, moved closer. One reached out and gently fondled her...
"NAANCY" screamed a high, whiny voice. Nancy gasped. Her clothes lay strewn about the room, thrown every which way as she had abandoned herself to her lurid, hot fantasy. Snatching bras and polo shirts alike, Nancy threw herself into her clothes, thinking feverishly of cold showers.
"NNAAAAAN-CEEE" whined George from outside the door, "Ned's ready to go bowling. I wanna go bowling! What are you doing?"
"Uh....thinking about that mysterious disappearance of the bar singer. I must solve that crime!" said Nancy determindly, as she put on her corduroy slacks. Adjusting her trademark pencil protector, Nancy combed back her hair into a prim bun and laughed with her trademark whiny, self-congratulatory snicker - a sound known to have solved many a crime.
I could not sleep. My heart was pounding through my chest, terror was running through my mind, and fear was eating at my soul. Somehow I must have fallen asleep because when I looked around, it was day time again. The castle did not seen nearly as terrifying as it did last night. There was no way to tell where I was since I had been disoriented the night before. Suddenly a loud screech rang out from a room above me. I began to struggle to find a way out, but it was too late. I had nowhere to run. My life suddenly flashed before my eyes and then it was over.
Joel came to a halt at a intersection of rusty piping. He would have to call a plumber soon, before they burst. Trying to decide which way to turn, he looked down the pipe on his left. He could faintly smell the septic tank. "No, better not go that way.", he thought. To the right, there was a dim light. That must be the ocean!
Seeing no better way to go, Joel traveled forward. He soon reached the wedding ring. He fit it around his waist and started back to the toilet. As he neared the opening of the tank, there was an oninous flushing noise. A great torrent of water ran upon him like a tital wave. "Ahhhhh," he screamed as he was washed down the pipes and out to the ocean.
Hikeeba begins a Science Fiction novel 2/14
With one swift dive, Joel cut the water like a knife through
butter, or a spoon through jello.
Unfortunately, he had chosen to plunge into a shallow puddle rather than the
lake, so his dive was cut bone-wrenchingly short as his spine bent in twelve
different directions.
"Good thing I am Gumby-Jello-Butter-Man(TM)!" cried Joel, as he richocheted
back up through the trees. "Otherwise some very fine similies would have gone
to waste!" Sailing through the air like a bird on a current - or a paper airplane
in a dream - Joel thought bemusedly of how he had been transformed from an
ordinary human to Gumby-Jello-Butter-Man(TM). It had all started when he had
driven off the Golden Gate Bridge...like a man driven, screaming, to the depths
of deepest, darkest despair, to commit a sin which damned his soul to burn
forever. Or a Hell's Angel on drugs, exhilarated by the thrill of speed. Whatever.
When he woke up in the hospital with his green, elastic skin - like the top of a pudding, or the spirit of coagalated margarine - he shrieked "MY GOD...WHAT HAVE YOU DONE...." And the demons of the underword hissed delightedly at his pain...
Under the scrutiny of the recording angels nousnauts had been instructed to log in "coincidences."
If we can get inside one of their nousnaut wirkende crafts, we would be able to find out how they actually orbited around SynchroniCity, capitol of coincidences.
I wanted to find out, so somehow I snuck on. After a while, they didn't even care if I was an invisible stowaway. They assumed that because I had the same thing in mind (to help save the planet Earth from inevitable suicide and to help save the State of Sy Koid) they simply shrugged and continued their work.
Wow! We swooshed above the noospheres, the thinking layer that enveloped the planet Earth and I was compelled to write down a lot of the coincidences.
As a matter of fact, their crusades involved a kinship connection that spanned the entire creation of the time-place scroll. So some of the places that we visited seemed to be mirrored representations of the same motifs over and over.
In any case, one of my stations meant working with the thought police at the borders between the CU and the CC.
Sometimes I just wrote down what I thought they were saying, like
"WATT INDIA BAGDAD< UZNO WATT AMIN. ANDROPEV STALIN. UZNO WATT AMIN 007 SOUL CORE."
"WATT?"
"UZNO WATT AMIN."
It was dark in the alley. Stealthy footsteps around the corner became louder as his suitor approached him. Run, run you fool. You can't stay here, the cats will find you. A car splashed down the street behind him. Someone shouted an obsenity and he took the moment to run again. There under the light, beside a stinking can full of forgotted decay awaited his pursuer. Damn the luck. Jeffrey, that misbegotten offspring of a cajun cat, had found his match. The Persian yeowled as she jumped onto his back. In a moment of exquisite feline passion the deed was done. In two months Jeffey would really have kittens.