The sky had turned green and there was a heaviness in the wind. Clouds had gathered to the east, dark and ominous, flashing with light and streaming with rain. As it moved over the land, the clouds curved to a hook, gathering speed and fury with the whipping winds. Slowly, inexorably, a tendril of vapor and wind stretched down to touch land and ( Read more... )

Once upon a time, Katurian had been the sort to write only happy stories, complete with loveable protagonists and endings that were always, always perfect. But this, of course, was a long time ago; twenty-two long years, to be exact, since his writings had been innocent and untainted by what he'd come to learn life was really like. And yet, it ( Read more... )

Bee had decided it had been long enough ( Read more... )

How long ago was it ( Read more... )

Rosie was in a near jovial mood as she finished up the last few arrangments for the Bookclub meeting. She was feeling positive, cheerful, and considerably less anxious than she had the previous month. As it was, she had reasoned with herself that last month was just a rocky start, that there were people still shook up by the odd events day prior to ( Read more... )

( Cut for length and spoilers. )

Perhaps my greatest comfort through all of this is that I always knew it would end this way.

Recant. They asked Galileo to recant and he did, but I am not Galileo, and I have nothing left to live for, nothing keeping me here. I have learned things. I have learned that, cruel though it sounds, cruel though it is, that day on the bridge happened so ( Read more... )

Under Katurian's arm when he walked into the kitchen was a stack of books - 1984, Kafka's The Trial, The Giver, a few others. He was late for breakfast but early for dinner, and not particularly hungry either way; he could always do for some tea, though, especially after another failed encounter with the clothes box that had produced nothing more ( Read more... )

It had been a very trying few days in this place. Marian had slept for much of it, her body needing the rest both to remove the rest of the hemlock, and to help heal her wound ( Read more... )

Running towards Roy Cohn with serious urgency, Belize focused on the small cart that was placed in the hallway of the ward. Rubber gloves, antiseptic, alcohol pads, gauze, and IV needles were in high demand for the patients here in the AIDS Hallway. The Death Tunnel, so properly named by the staff ( Read more... )