"I killed him with a bun sir."
"A bun? Don't you mean a gun?"
"No, it was a bun. Definitely a bun."
"How do you kill somebody with a bun?"
"Oh, there are many ways. Poisoning, asphyxiation, injecting sections into the bloodstream to cause clots…"
"That's…disturbing. Why would you do that?"
"Why, because it's fun!"
The man raised his browned hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked out over the sea and into the horizon. It had been a long time since he'd been in the area and he wanted to see if the view had changed. Of course it hadn't, it never had to his knowledge, and he didn't think it would for as long as he lived. He sighed as nostalgia overcame him. The scenery and the dock he was standing on held a lot of memories for him. When he had been younger, he had first seen his wife as she stood here, looking at the same sky and the same sea, the beach with families, children and young couples, groups of teenagers sunbathing, the s
all the pretty flowers,
blown to the wind,
caught by the children,
dancing in the fields.
easily they weave them,
finely into crowns,
garlands for pleasure,
heads to adorn.
in time they are forgotten,
journeys undertaken,
keys to doors are unlocked,
lives flow in new ways.
mindful of the dangers,
new ways are found to venture,
over hill and dale and through lovely vale,
past those once-loved flowers.
queens and kings these children become,
ruling all they see,
surviving ill decisions,
traversing through dreams.
He stepped into the black shoes and stomped his feet to settle them into place. Lifting his coat, he swung it to face the correct direction and shrugged himself into it. The occasion, although he was not looking forward to it, required that he take great care of his dress.
He ran a comb through his dark hair. Then, bracing himself against the towel rail, he took a shaky breath and lifted his head and eyes to look into the mirror before him. Using that moment to compose himself, he schooled his features into a blank expression, straightened and turned. It was time to leave.
The town she lived in was pretty and pleasant, it was calm, it was the sort of place where you met at least two people you knew every time you went to the shopping complex. It was a frustrating place. Taika had lived there since she had been young, and she felt like she knew everything there was to be seen in it. She didn't want to stay there anymore.
The place was ideal for a sedate lifestyle, you went to work, you came home, you watched TV and you walked the dogs. On the weekend, you went to the park or the local café to meet with your friends. You did the things you always did, and you were supposed to be content with them. Taika wasn't c
The sea is a deep turquoise blue and an albatross is gliding on the air currents in the sky overhead. From our ship, we see the bobbing masses of ice in front of us. They fill us with awe as we stare in wonder, marvelling at the beauty and serenity of the view. Nothing can compare to it.
Zayn writhed in pain on the bed. He writhed as wings budded from the once smooth skin of his back. He did not realize what was happening. In his mind, he dreamt. Dreamt of beauty, of horror, of love, of pain, of future lives, of past lives, of lands far and near.
The strange appendages, seemingly unnatural, grew ever larger. They shone in the meager light gleaned from the moon through the glass window, slick with the blood that was shed for their release.
In the morning they would be beautiful – the feathers a deep, rich green with hints of pure jade and lapis lazuli. Zayn was unaware of this. He slept, he dreamt. And when he awoke, he did