Perverted Pile of Meat

JournalWord: Seeing some anatomy. :: Two weeks ago, one of the henchmen had dragged a bloody carcass into her med bay and dropped it on a gurney. Immediately, she had pounced on him, but her questions ("Who is that?" "Is that all his blood?" "What the hell happened?") seemed to roll off his wide shoulders like water off a duck's back. He merely turned his chilling eyes on her and growled, "Newbie, so fix him," before stalking out without a second glance at her complaints from his muddy and bloody boots. She had sighed and turned dubiously...

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YGMM: Jones Sedlack: A Pessimist at Eleven

This is Jones, recollecting how he met Tristan. This is just to set a background for Jones. :: My childhood was built up on days of distrust and premature judgement. From an early age, I was abandoned by my teenage mother to the care of foster homes and irrational caretakers. I was raised in a world surrounded by suspicion and skeptical truths, and by the age of ten, I had made three concrete conclusions: First, I would never see my mother again.  Second, happiness is nonexistent in the foster care system.  Lastly,...

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Metallic

JournalWord: Clean, scraped off. :: "Hey, I think we're safe-"  Harry's smile falters when he swivels to reassure her. She's farther in the shadows, and the glow from the moon is casting just enough light from the corner for him to see her. She can only see half his face from her angle, but its enough for her to realize something is utterly wrong.  "Your arm," he whispers when she piques an eyebrow at his gaping mouth and wide eyes. "Oh, it's nothing, I just scraped it when I fell," she replies, but...

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Gratitude

2nd Part of Bless. Read that first :) :: She unplugs the electric kettle with a tug on the cord when it starts to squeal, immediately squelching the shriek to only clouds of steam. Grabbing a mug from a cupboard overhead, Sarah pulls open a drawer to sidle through her collection of teas. She chooses a raspberry tea from a box and pulls one of the tiny bags from the stack just as her cell phone chimes from her discarded purse.  Teabag in hand, she sliding on her tiptoes to her purse on the other side of the kitchen counter,...

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Cruel For Loving You

JournalWord: Hunger for a fool. :: There is a pause, and he holds his breath when he hears a rustle and the scraping of her will to stand up. His ears prick up at the slow footsteps of her trek up the slope towards him. She stumbles over loose pebbles and drags her left leg through the dirt, slowly, cautiously, behind her. He can smell her acrid fear from the top of the hill. He feels momentarily sick to his stomach at the spike of dark pleasure and interest; a misplaced sense of rightness at such a morbid situation. She's...

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Somebody's Secret

JournalWord: Angels kept hidden. :: Once upon a could have been.. He is enticingly rich. He has the world at his fingertips; anything is possible for him. He gets his way. He is the world's contributor, a giver. He is everyone's beloved benefactor. They don't doubt who they see as perfect. He has a hobby. Collecting rare, exotic, practically unattainable, birds. But having every bird just isn't enough. He just needs to have the most unattainable, and unreal. The world doesn't know anything about his possessive...

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