"I Quit!"_Hiking Club_Heartless Storm_It's Good To Touch the Green, Green Grass of Hom
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"I Quit!"
“I quit!” Thus came the outburst.“I QUIT!” he repeated, louder and more insistent. The day was promising to move from the mundane to the decidedly unusual.It had started blandly and boringly enough. After morning coffee, cereal, and just passing time, I escape from my apartment taking a walk across the street to the local store. I spot a frog hopping hesitantly away in front of me, lemming-wise to the end of the sidewalk. I clear a frog in my throat in solidarity.I’m looking forward to meeting my friend downtown in a few hours' time. I decide to head off early, noticing the frog disappearing f...
Hiking Club
"I don’t really want to get involved. I mean, I don’t know the woman personally, and I don’t know how she went missing. Ok, not missing but murdered, whatever."I think that will be enough information to get the cops off my back. Doesn't work though. It'll only take a few minutes, they prod. Let us come by your place to talk, they push. A woman was found dead and you were one of the last people to see her alive, they charge. How do they even know this? I call my psychiatrist to get me out of this mess. Dr. Perry is on vacation until the end of the week. I leave a voicemail and call right back. ...
Heartless Storm
Despite what people will try to tell you, life and nature are not human.That may sound like that goes without saying, but let me explain.Life and nature are not singular beings, they're concepts: categories we use to define something surrounding us. They don't have a will; they don't have feelings. And they can’t care. It’s why I hold nothing against them; there isn't a "them" to be had.I always explain this to fellow passengers on the ship. Strange storms are popping up in several locations, contradicting reports time and time again, to the point of almost making them worthless to listen to. ...
It's Good To Touch the Green, Green Grass of Home
Everything was loud and quiet at the same time. The air was deathly still as everyone waited for the jury to finish deliberating. The ticking clock on the courtroom’s wall sounded like miners’ pickaxes against solid rock and I could hear the rush of my own blood in my ears like the waters of the mighty roaring Niagara Falls. My heart beat as deafeningly as www.onedoor.cca battering ram against an ancient castle’s wooden gates. My pulse raced like a thousand charging cavalries in battle. Despite the cold airconditioned room, I felt sweat form under my hairline. A drop of perspiration slid down my forehead an...