Hank’s thumbs hooked forward on his waist, his elbows sticking out like a trussed turkey. “I don’t care any more,” he said. “Just picked one.”
The cry penetrated Sybil’s unconscious first, making her heart pound and her breasts ache.
This photo is called “Swimming Pool” by Ian Britton. To find the photo in its natural habitat, go here: link And you can check back over the week to see what the writers have written inspired by this image by either browsing around, or going
The sheen of sweat, the loud voice, the aggressive motions of his hands and feet would have been enough to make his three sons hang back, but the sight of the thing in the center of the museum’s Animals of India rotunda clinched their paralysis.
“Come on, isn’t she awesome? You can ride her!” their father pitched, his body jerking and twitching.
The people who got “just what they needed” in that Twilight Zone episode didn’t have to explain to the CIA, MI6 , Interpol, and Scotland Yard, why it was they got “what they needed” at just the right moment before something very bloody and violent happened.
Peggy Mercedes typed a little, rotated her seat, glanced at her client, swung back to the computer screen and typed some more. “Could you give me your class, OMI, and serial number again?” This time she turned her head only and gazed steadily at the
“The Goddess managed things for half a million years and then this upstart god comes along and says he can do better, so She decides to teach him a lesson, so She says, ‘Okay.’ So the god and men rebuild the world in their image,