Recent Ficlets

Some other time

2008-05-09T12:40:15Z

I staggered in anyway. What’s a broken down old building between friends?

I knew this place. I studied the layout: the pattern of bricks in the walls; the broken floor tiles, the color and texture of the light flooding in through the arches.

I took a seat on the makeshift ring of seats, and looked at my friends. Dan stood tall, laughing in his usual dominant way that encompassed us all and claimed us as his gang. Pete and Ricky sat around either side of me, forming a perfect semi-circle wit the rest.

I searched the scene a moment longer, reaching for the memory, long forgotten. It was no use. Tired, I let me eyes fall to the ground.

Suddenly the broken floor was brand new. It exploded with intricate works of stylised imagery. The walls seemed vibrate with power. The others… a new beard, a different hairstyle… Everything was the same, but not. It felt… right.

My cloak ruffled in the wind. My cloak? I had changed too. I recognised something.

What was this place? I only knew it was part of me.

More Than A Feeling

2008-05-09T11:46:31Z

But it was only theory, still. He only hoped that it worked as well with paper as on paper- and if it did, it was a breakthrough.

It would validate all that he had been doing, all he had sacrificed socially and financially- and more importantly it would finally bring him much needed answers. Answers stronger than simple thoughts or assumptions, that worked within his mind but had no proof of being true.

He felt silly with his hands finger deep in chalked lines, crumpling the edges of the textured paper, and he was ready to admit failure… but then it started.

And it was glorious.

Some Inexplicable Feeling

2008-05-09T11:26:37Z

It was the sensation of one’s skin going bitter, one’s nerves recoiling, which was most essential. The sensation of one’s fingernails on a blackboard – Anton flexes, his body dried thoroughly after a second shower taken to remove any residual greases, powdered with talc, palms of hands and soles of feet thoroughly caked in chalk. He is underneath a geometric structure of textured paper that he has been preparing for a day, having sacrificed further months towards finding the correct arrangement.
He trails a fingernail along one of the structure’s walls, echoing what he has already drawn there in jagged silverpoint: a pattern of waves and spikes and mostly verticality that does not exactly repeat, ever. He is in the basement of the house of his aunt and uncle, up in Alaska with nothing around for miles; nobody knew what happened to them, or how long they’d been gone, but Anton has some idea.
This has to be more than a coincidence. He hunches forwards and lets his fingertips sink into the diagram’s chalk lines.

Weight of the World: Remembering the Dead Sequel

2008-05-09T10:24:00Z

John tried to block the assaulting spray, only seconds too late. He stumbled and fell backward hitting his head on a gravestone knocking himself out cold.

He awoke as cold rain droplets pattered gently on his face. The wailing mother attempting to drown out the words of a preacher issuing graveside service jolted John into action.

The darkness had gone and he wondered how he had lain here for so long. As he stood, his head throbbed and he felt to inspect the damage from the fall. Glancing back to the mourners, he decided he may have a concussion.

They were dressed as if they’d stepped out of the 1800’s. The ladies were in their high waisted dresses, and veiled hats. The men wore breeches, waistcoats, and even tophats. This funeral was upperclass.

What was he thinking? John shook his head to clear it. He glanced to the nearest gravemarker, Thomas Jonathan Alexander II, 1706- 1814.

”..always remember Master Alexander,” the preacher was finishing.” At that point, John’s world went black again.

Reflections of War

2008-05-09T09:45:07Z

Colonel Helmut Albrecht looked at a picture in the corner of his office. He was at least 20 years younger then and still flying before his disgrace of injuring the Black Baron. A pair of tri-planes sat in the background. Happy moments played through his mind.

He often wondered what it would be like to fly for pleasure. To soar with the birds, not watching for enemy aircraft. That was a sensation he may never know. First the Great War and now the rise of the Third Reich insured that peace will not come quietly.

Albrecht shifted his gaze from the photo to the small stack of papers in front of him. Sometimes it felt like he was fighting his own private war with the Luftwaffe High Command. “I may be Kommandant of a POW camp, but we must still treat them as humans,” he often said.

His commander, General Johann Klein, never agreed with this. “These men have killed countless Germans, and you insist they’re human. Their militaries have extracted their humanity long ago. We’re targets, Helmut! They do not care.”

Final Goodbye

2008-05-09T08:27:49Z

The young boy looked his father in the eye, as he began to speak. “I know I don’t have much time left.. I will be gone one day, but dad, I don’t want you to be sad. And tell mom not to miss me too much. I don’t want her to be crying all the time. Make sure she doesn’t cry herself to sleep. I want you to know that I love you both so much. I don’t want to die daddy.. but I can’t get better.. my body hurts and I want it to stop.” The little boy studies his fathers face. The father looks at his son with tears streaming down his face. “Son, your mother and I love you very much. We will miss you daily”

The little boy looks at his dad. “Please only remember the good times. They are what matters. .

“Promise me, dad that you and mom will find ways to be happy, that you will remember the good things in life”

The boy struggled to take a breath. He shuts his eyes for a moment. A sigh emits from his lungs. He makes another labored attempt. His eyes go still. The father leans over his son and weeps violently.

Gasping for Air

2008-05-09T08:13:25Z

One morning the young boy wakes up in a great deal of pain. He sits up and gasps violently for air. The cancer that has been plauging his body has recently taken up residence in his lungs. Making the smallest breaths difficult and painful.

The father notices his son struggling to breathe. He rushes over to him. “What is it son? What’s wrong?” “Sharp pain in chest. hard to breathe” The boy replied between labored breaths. “Can I get you something to ease your pain son?” The father asked in a paniked tone. “My inhaler please” The boy requested. As he pointed to the end table. The father quickly grabbed the inahler and handed it to his son.

The boy took the inahler and pumped medicine into his chest. Followed by two deep breaths. He then looked at his father with a look of gratitude. “Thanks” he said.

“Dad, there is something I want to say to you.” “What is it son?” The father asked as he took his sons hand.

Regents Park Tube

2008-05-09T08:11:59Z

It was a few moments before I noticed the girl at the other end of the otherwise deserted platform. I was listening to my iPod, and being that I was in the Underground I was listening to it at quite a volume, so I had not realised that there was anyone else on the platform.

There was nothing really striking about her, but the way she was behaving was unusual; she appeared to be looking for something, or perhaps someone. She was standing in the middle of the platform, between the wall and the edge, looking frantically this way and that and then calling out something – I could not hear what because ‘Discipline’ by Nine Inch Nails was still pumping into my ears at an ill-advised volume.

I gently pulled my headphones away from my ears and listened again as the increasingly frantic young woman shouted;

“Hector! Hector!”

I started to walk towards her to see if I could help – I know people do not talk to each other on the Underground, but she was obviously upset. She saw me, pointed;

“No! Go away! Bad!”

clarity

2008-05-09T08:03:20Z

The factory was more than a production line. Its workers thought of themselves as creators, not drudges. They made the world a different place – if not an actively better one.

The research and development guys hid out in an air-conditioned sanctuary tucked away at one end of the factory. Not that they felt they had anything to be ashamed of – they were only fulfilling a demand after all, and creatively at that. No, they weren’t hiding; it was just difficult to mix with people who didn’t see the world as they did; as clearly as they did.

Sometimes they discussed their moral and philosophical standpoints, usually over long, lazy games of poker while ideas for new creations brewed away undisturbed in the back of their minds.

As far as they were concerned, there were two kinds of people in the world regardless of whether you were from Hong Kong or Edinburgh.

You see, it all boils down to problems and problem-solvers.

Love in Space

2008-05-09T07:43:46Z

“I’m an idiot,” said Franklin as he took a sip of his Synthe-Gin.

“Yep,” nodded Germley the Andropulsian barkeep, the balloon-like nose his race was famous for bobbing gently.

Franklin put his drink down. “I haven’t even told you what I’ve done yet.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I thought we were just talking generally. So,” he reached for a nearby glass, spat in it (Andropulsian saliva has remarkably similar properties to washing-up liquid) and started to clean it. “Share.”

“There’s this girl on board,” Franklin began. “Crewman Jaim.”

“Oh, she’s spicy.”

“She is that. She’s sort-of in love with me and I think I might like her too.”

“Delicious.”

“And yet I can’t get this other girl I met out of my head. I met her on shore leave back on Titan. She’s incredible. Smart, witty, more curves than a packet of Pringles.”

“The solution here is simple: eat one now, and save one for later.”

“Hang on,” said Franklin. “Eat them?”

“Wait, no. Sorry, I keep forgetting your species doesn’t eat its own. Forget I spoke.”

What A Crab!

2008-05-09T07:02:09Z

If my school morning mentality could be expressed by a trumpet I’d say it sounds like a half hearted push of air squeaking out from the brass muzzle like a fat kid farting on a hard plastic seat—a real elephant trunk wheeze if you will, that trails off as I roll over and snooze some more. In case you need my crass opinion to understand, mornings blow, and if Garfield were real I’d give him a pound right now.

On this particular morning I was chatting to my buddies in home room when an all too nosey Mrs. Pierce eaves dropped in uninvited. “Tad, I would like to see you in the hallway please.” Her tone annoyed me.

“I can see that you bleached your hair and I heard that you havn’t told your parents.”

“Uh-huh, you OVERheard. I did it last night and went right to bed, woke up this morning late,” in a wheeze I thought “after my parents went to work.”

“Yes, well, it’s a disturbing thing to know, it being picture day and all.”

Mrs. Pierce—always wanting a part in the punishment. What a crab!

Sorry

2008-05-09T06:25:15Z

His eyes moved slowly up from his drink. The smoke filled room could not hide the sadness and disappointment in her eyes. Her once brilliant green eyes were now being engulfed by an ocean of tears and crimson. Streaks of black mascara tore down her cheeks, escaping the pain he had caused.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked, “I…” His eyes dipped back down to the safety of his whiskey. Ice clanked against his glass as he picked up the drink, sloshed it around for a few seconds and returned it to the cardboard coaster thanking him for patronizing McShane’s Tavern.

He couldn’t muster up the courage to look at her again. The pain he saw in her face was like a bullet piercing his chest; “this is what heartbreak feels like” he thought.

The table shifted. Out of the corner of his eye, her black dress cut through the smoke filled room. Unable to watch her leave, he stared at his glass, watching the ice slowly melt.

“Hey buddy, it’s closing time,” a voice called to him.

“I’m sorry” he said and began to sob.

A boy fights Cancer

2008-05-09T06:08:03Z

A dying boy lies in his bed. His body over taken by cancer. It has left him thin and weak and constantly tired. Deep down this boy knows that he is going to die.

His father keeps vigil at his bedside. He has not left his side for very long, in the past few months. His son’s life has been cut short by a cruel, calculating and mysterious cancer. Even the doctors are stumped with this one. After several failed attempts, at treating the cancer with chemo, it looks like the cancer is winning. It is indeed terminal

During his weeks of bedrest the boy has several chats with his father. Most of them are deep heartfelt conversations, about life and the meaning behind it all.

This twelve year old boy, has had to deal with some very mature subjects. He has had to learn about life and death and mortality at a very fast pace. He knows he doesn’t have much time left. So every day his interaction with his dad is ever so precious.

Numbers

2008-05-09T05:57:09Z

Numbers have long been the subject of much study in the world. It has long been surmised that numbers hold the key to understanding the world. For instance, it has long been known for a fact that the number “Forty-Two” is the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. And the number 12 has long been used as a number for luck. But in all their research, man has long been unable to unlock the true mysteries hidden within these numbers. Therefore, a question has to be asked: how long has it really been?

Like all numbers, the number 10 started off as a simple Integer. Then it was called an Odd number. Later on, although in its Prime, it was not Happy, unlike its friend, the number 20. Perhaps because it was not Powerful, nor was it as Perfect as its neighbor, 11. It wasn’t even Sublime like the number 22. It wasn’t very Friendly or Sociable. In fact, it was quite a Solitary and Deficient number. And one day, it just decided to change itself, but ran into some problems. It was quite a Quinary.

Ridda's Defense

2008-05-09T05:23:01Z

Ridda stood abruptly, and Sioni’s eyes flashed open. “I don’t care what you call her, Joseph, and I don’t care what you think at this point- you have no idea what’s happened in the past, and you have no right to judge anyone.” Joseph’s gaze dropped to the floor, and the knife followed.

“Sioni, Arelia” she emphasized the name, glaring at Joseph, “was not an evil person. I doubt she is now. What happened to her would drive anyone to madness. What she’s done to you, to your mother, to everyone, is wrong, but what we did to her is what caused it.” She shook a tear from her eye.

“No. No, how could my mother do that?” Sioni asked, fully awakened, “My mother, who would never hurt a fly-”

“Your mother didn’t know what she was doing, Sioni! Sit down! None of us knew it was anything more than a joke. Joseph, you leave that knife where it is!” She whirled around, and Joseph backed away from the knife on the floor. “We don’t know what she’s capable of, Sioni. We’ll take you home in the morning. You must stay safe.”

Jonas Part 38: TTYL

2008-05-09T04:20:30Z

I skipped over to her side as she flipped open her phone.
‘From: Mommy
Amanda. Do you have a graduation dress yet ? I am @ Nordstrom. Cute stuff. :]’

“Oh.Em.Gee.” Amanda and I said in unison. We had totally forgotten that our graduation was less than 2 weeks away!
We both turned to run for the mall, but Mandy stopped after about 5 yards. She ran over and yanked Kat away from Charlie and pulled her along.
“What the heckkk?!” yelled Kat, “I was having a CONVERSATION !”
“Shut up, Katrina,” barked Amanda, “We have bigger problems right now.”
Kat scowled, and reluctantly was quiet.
When we finally arrived, I got a text message.
‘From: Thomas
? what happened??’

With a sigh, I put my phone back in my pocket. I was not in the mood to explain dress importance to a guy. I had to deal with Mandy and Kat. Alone. With me. In the mall.
My world had bigger issues right now. With a deep breath, I pulled my phone back out.
‘To: Thomas
TTYL .’

Jonas Part 37: Separated

2008-05-09T04:11:54Z

Well, there still was Kevin. But he is.. old. :] It seemed that the true, uninterrupted happiness only existed between Carly and Christian, Miles and Stephanaka, and Blair and Joe. The rest of us, not so much, especially since these new angelic-faced devils have come into the picture. The few happy ones were laughing jovially at Miles, who was being stupid. Kevin was winking at all the attractive, 20-year old girls walking around in their short-shorts. The rest of us were nervously glancing at each other. Nick N was absorbed in some story that Samantha was telling, but kept momentarily showing me and Thomas, well, me, but Thomas was in ‘range’ of his glance, his deep-set frown.
The happy couples had wandered forward, and Kevin went to follow a blonde girl in a pink Hollister tank top. We had been walking for about 20 minutes when Amanda got a text message.

Dead Air

2008-05-09T03:54:26Z

“The Izumo has missed her scheduled check-in sir.”

The fleet command center aboard Glassner station was the central hub for all rimward activity. Day and night the room was staffed with officers watching monitors, relaying reports and requests. It was the brain that allowed ships spread over thousands of light years to operate cohesively as a unit.

“What’s that Daniels?” Commander Jacobs, the officer of the deck asked, moving over to the lieutenant’s station.

“The Izumo is seventeen hours late for their check-in.” Daniels repeated.

“Lang’s boat.” Jacobs’ sighed, “Probably another busted transmitter.”

“Should I extend the deadline Commander?”

“No.” He shook his head, “No, with the old tubs Fleet assigns to us they could just as easily be in real trouble. Send the Ustinov to check up on them.”

An Issue of Italian Maxim

2008-05-09T03:40:03Z

“Well,” Margot began, “if its any consolation…I really really liked your performance. Well, compared to everything else out there. You were like my own personal Bob Dylan serenading the masses out there…”

There was another rapid vomitting noise followed by a second flush of the toilet.

“Don’t drag Dylan into this,” he mumbled from the other side of the door. He began to groan. Margot knocked lightly.

“Can I get you something? Some water? A magazine? I think I saw an issue of Italian Maxim floating around by the bar…I mean, If you’re going to be in there awhile you should have some reading material…or..you know…” She waited patiently for a response. The water came on in the bathroom.

“Are you still standing out there?” He called out.

“Uh, yeah,” Margot responded.

The water turned off. “I’m coming out now.”

He opened the door, and stepped out towards Margot. She smiled at him expectantly…and he threw up on her shoes.

“I didn’t think you had anything left in you,” she said.

Velvet

2008-05-09T03:18:15Z

The first thing he noticed when he walked into the motel room was the wallpaper. It was like a bad acid trip and it made he had to squint against the intensity. It was only then that he saw her, clad in a white lace nightgown propped up on the bed with the red velvet duvet. Only then, of course, was it too late.

“Who are…” he blinked back. Her eyes flew open, two big round dinner plates that took in his every inch.

“Does it really matter, sweetheart?” She said with a sly smile.

“I think I have the wrong room, I mean, the lady in there, she told me it was this one…but..” he stammered. She laughed, a child’s laugh and sat up, crosslegged, letting one of the straps on her shoulder fall down.

“You didn’t know your room came with a girl did you?” She laughed.

“Well, uh…I…” he continued to stammer, “I guess so. I mean, I didn’t know you’d be in here…I’m not really sure how this whole system works…”

“First time?” She asked inquisitively.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, well you know…”

The Hall Closet

2008-05-09T03:16:16Z

Click.

The lock on the window gave way easily. Chick had done this dozens of times before.

Maybe he was a thief in a previous life. He certainly could have been in this one. But Chick was a private invesigator. Not like the sexy, beautiful PIs you see on TV. No, he was one of the sleazy ones.

He didn’t like to think of himself as sleazy, but this was breaking and entering.

No matter. Already, he could see plenty of evidence of the kind of indescretion he had been paid to document. He took pictures of everything, especially any clothes he found.

Chick wasn’t new to this. He’d been chasing cheating spouses for almost 20 years now. He knew the best place to look was the hall closet.

This was where a cheating spouse would leave clothes, old shoes, something his client would recognize.

But when he opened the door, he didn’t find any of that. In fact, he didn’t even find a closet. There was a hole leading, well, it appeared, to nowhere.

Chick, against his better judgement, steps through.

Doesn't Hide

2008-05-09T03:12:09Z

Come on, let me see you
See the beauty you always try to hide
I know its there

Don’t you see?
You’re glowing
Embrace it
Don’t tuck it away
You shouldn’t be ashamed

Take in this moment
When you let yourself run free
Never pull it back
Because for as long as you live
You’ll know that we are here for you
The you that doesn’t hide

Happy

2008-05-09T02:30:51Z

“Macon, you’re the liar.” Macy whispered and he went over getting in her face.

“What was that? I don’t know what you’re talking about when you begged for my car.” Macon challenged.

“That’s not true! You pulled me inside!”

Macon started backing her up against the wall again, “Yet you never fought me. I don’t know Macy, but it sounds like you like me. You don’t right?” He leaned in, that sweet smell cologone invading the air around Macy. His face was inches from hers. And he whispered, “You don’t, right?”

Macy sighed, then controlled herself. “Stop it! Stop doing that thing to me!”

Macon moved away, standing beside Derrick and asked, “What thing? You’re not making much sense Macy.”

Macy growled, storming to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Macon’s grin was visible though she wasn’t facing him. “But wait, you have to stay for the story about you.” Macy froze with her hand on the door. She reluctantly turned back. “Yeah, that’s right.” Macon said, his control over everyone clearly making him happy.

Arelia

2008-05-09T02:30:00Z

Sioni sat on the hard cloth of the pallet, fighting to stay awake as she listened to Ridda. But her eyelids were so heavy, and the fire was so warm…

Ridda’s clear eyes were beseeching, begging Sioni to understand. “Your mother loves you very much, and despite what you might think, she really does trust you, Sioni. But this curse is just too powerful, and Arelia has always been so vengeful. You must be very careful, for we don’t know what Arelia -“

A voice from across the room suddenly spoke, interrupting Ridda and startling Sioni. “Her name’s not Arelia anymore, mother. It’s Malvolia. We should name her what she is – the evil one.” Sioni, still half-dazed from exhaustion, gazed at this young man who stood defiantly, nostrils and eyes flaring. There was a long, jagged hunting knife gripped in his left hand. It gleamed in the firelight.

“Why are you dressed like that, Joseph? And that knife!” Ridda exclaimed.

“I’m going to do what should have been done a long time ago. I’m going to kill Malvolia.”

Real-ity

2008-05-09T02:14:06Z

The knocking on the car window startled Gary from the trance-like state he’d reached while staring at the gun. Looking up, he saw her welcome, hardened face and rolled down the window.

“Thinking about it again, huh?” she asked, her whiskey-laden breath making him nauseous.

“Hey, Felicia.” He managed a weak grin and then, almost as an after-thought to himself, said, “Yeah, again. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually do it.”

“Yeah, and maybe you won’t.”

Gary shrugged, looked at the gun and then back at her. A smoldering weed hung from her cracked lips, scars pocked the bends of both arms, and her hip-huggers were stretched to their limits. But, she was beautiful. To him, a comfort and a salvation—if only for a little while.

“Come on.” She winked. “You know what you really want.”

And she was right.

Laying the gun aside, he got out and pecked her on the cheek. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” She took his arm and led him into her room. “What the hell happened to your face?”

The door closed behind them.

Sinister Plans

2008-05-09T02:09:52Z

Malvolia looked down at her youthful hands, the hands of Helen. She smiled as the magical beast continued to tear. She hadn’t infected him, of course, but she had found him wandering a more secluded part of the woods. The intelligent beast had realized his affliction in the early stages and retreated far into the mountains, where he could do no harm. She’d brought him back after Sioni had fled.

She walked away, unafraid of the alphyn behind her, still involved with his… meal. She could use the alphyn, definitely, as soon as she could get medicine from the unicorn’s glade. She needed to heal him, cure him of his wretched afflictions. The prince would attack an intelligent, healthy alphyn, and be soundly defeated.

She would then ask the alphyn for a favor, to take her to Sioni. She didn’t need Sioni anymore. She could cure her, of course, but why bother? All she wanted was to get to Eva, Sioni’s mother. It was her witchery that began the cycle, this was all her fault.

Her stride was quiet as she set off.

Antheia and Agathon's Amulet

2008-05-09T02:06:34Z

“Of course you will,” and with a zing she was gone. And a strange amulet was now hanging from the handles of the amphora. The oracle stayed on the ground, muttering in tongues again. She then stood up, brushed off her now wine-stained robe and looked at Agathon skeptically.
“So…you’re going to teach me?”Agathon asked inquisitivley.
“If my mother Hera proclaims me to do so, I must as she wishes,” said Antheia loyally. “But I can’t believe she made me teach a male.” Agathon was not sure how to respond to this. Instead, he looked at the amulet on the amphora.
“Don’t touch that! It’s from Hera. It belongs in the temple.” Antheia screeched shrilly. Agathon backed up, hands in fron of his chest saying he was innocent. Antheia gingerly grasped the chain of the amulet and tugged it free. She read aloud the language of the gods that Agathon could not understand. She dropped to her knees, looked up at the sapphire blue sky, prayed in tongues once again and then rose.
“I am to take you.”
“Take me where?”

The Witch's Bidding

2008-05-09T01:54:32Z

From the shadows, Malvolia cackled maniacally, the sound of it tearing the black, starless canvas of sky.

A wood nymph who had been drinking from a nearby stream suddenly stilled, hearing that discordant sound. She crept as close as her beating heart dared and saw a terrible sight – a hitherto mythological creature rending a human being limb from limb.

But that wasn’t what startled her into flight – it was the pair of red eyes glaring from the darkness, glaring at her, with such a look of hatred that it seared the nymph right to the core of her being and sent her running in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could take her.

No matter how fast she ran, though, she couldn’t escape the voice that invaded her mind, twisting and turning inside her ears: Run, little wood nymph, run and tell your prince whom I’ve sent. Run, before I send this creature after you, too, my lovely.

Sobbing in fright, the wood nymph went and did exactly what the witch bid her do.

Now That You've Found "Perfect"

2008-05-09T01:35:12Z

Now that you’ve found “perfect,”
I feel as though you’ve left me.
Even though you said
That you never would forget me.

When you said, “I never want
To leave you,” did you mean,
“You’ll do until I find another.”?
Did you lie to me?

Were you truthful when you said
to me, “Until we die.”?
Or was it just your way with words?
Was it all a lie?

So will we ever speak again?
Will you find the time?
You drove me to the pen. Again!
And to another rhyme.

Why did you not tell me?
Share with me your joy?
Did you think I couldn’t handle it?
Oh, you stupid boy!

So now that you found “perfect.”
Tell me, kindred spirit, friend,
Do you no longer need me?
Does our friendship end?

My Stories

2008-05-09T01:31:05Z

Fairy tales start with ‘Once upon a time…’

Star Wars starts with ‘A long time ago in a galaxy far far away…’

Penthouse letters start with ‘I never thought this would happen to me…’

Another story starts with ‘One time at band camp…’

All of my stories start with ‘Well there was this girl…