The ninja stayed hidden within the gaudily painted camper van, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He recalled his training, the hours spent motionless, and the harsh chastisement meted out by his sensei should he detect the merest flicker of movement from him. He
The music bled out of her, hot chords splashing to the cold, hardwood floor. An incendiary torrent of bloody riffs and licks spilling from the open gashes at her wrists. I let the crimson tide of inspiration wash over me, a baptism in pain and
He’d stood watch over the tomb for a thousand years.
Ah, sleep; he remembered that, a dim and distant memory of a past life. That was one thing they’d never warned him about, that he’d never have a good night’s sleep again. He was prepared for a life of crazy, tight deadlines, of working until
The only reasonable response to this is to seek quantifiable scientific proof. Is there a God?
The boy ran through the park, his companion, Mr Balloon at his side. For the briefest moment it was just the two of them, the rest of the world melted away and he was lost in a place where a boy and his balloon could
A Boy And His Balloon by Ian Sharman Tweet