I could not for the life of me remember where I had put my passport.
Through the darkness, of the early morning creped a fearsome looking creature. Her coat glistened in the dull light.
It wasn't so very long ago. But it's been forgotten anyway.
It was the frog that first caught my attention.
The Mundanes had become a laboratory of evolutionary change.
One shot to the head was all it took, all that was usually required.
Five marigolds later, the experiment worked.
The port was still burning, but even now he couldn't look away.
"Delay your death," he said, "I want to tell you a story."
As I fell silently through the dark void, a small pin of light moved toward me.
The door swung open, I looked up from my computer, sighed and said, "again?!"
"On a sunny Sunday afternoon in July, at a rest stop just off US-1, Jessica cut a deal with the Devil."
A hand-written journal was the thing I least expected to find in my father's personal effects.
The blinking light on the Caller ID drew his eye immediately -- 8 calls from the same unfamiliar number, no messages.
As I watched the hands crawl slowly across the clock face -- a real clock, not one of those newfangled digital things with no soul -- I sighed, finally admitting that I could put this off no longer.
If this is what they do at his bris, Bernie thought, I'm afraid to find out what they'll do at the bar mitzvah.
"What I need," he said to the form in the corner, "is a really good idea for a story."
A Key. A Key might get them out of here.
I sighed, and wondered for the fourth time today why I'd thought getting out of bed this afternoon was a good idea.
"Your lucky number is 37185937629586738," declared the fat little man. "Look for it everywhere."
Now let me contemplate for a while...