each time his eyes met hers he could feel his heart beat accelerate. it pounded in his chest, the sheer depth of emotion he felt for her seemed likely to overwhelm him. shly he traced circles in the chuckies in the drive of her parents house. ducking his head, rising his gaze to catch hers once more. then gathering his courage and with a flourish, her presents her with the single red rose he has been holding behind his back. she takes it, tentative, giggling a little. then stealing some of his daring, she leans forward, quick, and pecks him on the cheek. his heart does another leap, his face burns, it must be red and bright, he is sure. he offers her his hand, which she takes, and the two wander together to the restaurant round the corner where he booked a table a week ago.

the night becomes a self-conscious blur. he feels dizzy. everything he does is something he has analyzed and over analyzed, and yet the decision, the action comes too fast. how can he take this pace? he is just a fragile boy in love. the night ends, all too soon, and they retrace their path, hand in hand once more, as he walks her home. once again she stands on the door step. the lights are still on inside, no doubt her father is waiting up, making sure his little girl gets home ok. now is the time. he has to kiss her. she waits, full of anticipation. she knows he will. she knows he must. his heart thuds. he leans forwards. his heart pounds. his lips brush hers. he feels like his heart might burst. they breathe in the moment, sharing the precious moment. then his heart explodes. he slumps to his knees, showering her in gore as the essential organ comes thrusting through his chest. and she squeals. and squeals.

ah. true love. nothing like it. sweet dreams boys and girls.

Wow and i thought V-day pushed my buttons =Þ

Lovely.

oh its just a tradition of sorts i started with odd little stories last year. the fact i'm bitter, twisted, and not getting any certainly has nothing to do with it. no. really...

something different...

the synthesis of machine digestible amphetamines had been a mistake, even if the actual development had taken genius. the dickdroid that had been the test subject had gone walk about. no one knew where he was holed up. what were the chances of finding a speed fueled paranoid android that didn't want to be found? then the first novel was published, and it was stranger than anything that had come before it.

quote:

Originally posted by remotepush:
oh its just a tradition of sorts i started with odd little stories last year. the fact i'm bitter, twisted, and not getting any certainly has nothing to do with it. no. really...

Ahhh. Nothing drives divine art like suffering.

And guilt. Cannot forget divine Catholic guilt.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Crash,

damn. maybe i should give up on my athiesm? hmm. but then maybe i would feel guilty about not staying true to myself? what a quandry!

My thumb ring broke.
Getting that ring was the first memory I have of going shopping with my father. I was in third grade when we both walked in that jewelry store. My first real band of gold.
It broke at the same spot the jeweler cut it off my finger when at age 13 we took it to get it resized. And it got resized too big so I put it in a drawer. Many other rings came along and I forgot about it.

Ten years later I was going away and shifting through old memories I noticed that it fit my thumb. And it fit so nice that it wouldn’t come off unless twisted just so.

That ring never left my finger ever again (except for an hour at a time when at martial arts practice). I was far away from home and home was with me right on that thin band of gold with four tiny dark stones. Solid, unchangeable circle of connection that defines you and preserves you. It made sure I made it back whole.

It never left my right thumb till last week when suddenly that old jeweler wound just snapped and I’ve felt naked ever since.

That's a nice write-up, striv.

Arigato.

She looked down at the arm and ran her fingers along its surface. It was cold and heavy. They were always heavy when they were switched off. She needed to charge it up, get its motors working, but she didn't want to take it off. She hated seeing the socket, the three prongs jutting out just belong her elbow, hooking her nervous system to the machinery. She hated being reminded.

She looked it over. It was a shade darker than her actual skin. She hadn't had the money to get the custom synthskin put on it, so she'd picked the closest match. Still, it looked pretty convincing, it had tiny plastic hairs on it and actual fingerprints rather than the simple ridges her last one had. It even warmed up to body temperature, she'd maxed out three credit cards to make sure of that. The socket on her palm for the link cable was a dead give away though, they might as well have stamped 'FAKE' on it. She would have gotten the model with the wireless uplink, but again, money had held her back. She should have waited, got the new socket this month and gotten the arm next month, but her old arm wouldn't have fit, it was much too small, a child's arm, used for much too long.

With an effort she flexed her fingers. The software needed updating. The factory settings allowed basic movement but not much else. Gritting her teeth, she plugged the link cable in, the familiar feeling of discomfort, like biting down on a fork or nails on a blackboard. You were supposed to take it off for software upgrades, but she never did. She didn't like to be reminded.

Very good, NC.

~~~ She didn't like to be reminded. ~~~

Praise it!

And striv, Yours was...

Well, I started to cry a little.

Thank you. It was wonderful.

Glory!

quote:

Originally posted by Meru:
Very good, NC.

Thank you

Yeah, NC. Good stuff.

Nice, Nilcypher. She better make sure she can make those payments, or else our stories may see some crossover.

quote:

Originally posted by Trogdor:
And striv, Yours was...

Well, I started to cry a little.

Thank you. It was wonderful.

Glory!

Man, I read it now and it looks so sappy to me.

Writin' eh?

I'd best get on with it.

After this cigarette (I blame M-D's new sig).

That's not fair. You wrote it. It's very good. It's true. Wait a month, at least before you look at it again.

I think it is wonderful. Rich. Rich, is what it is. Full of meaning.

For God's sake, is everything that conjures a little emotion sappy these days?

quote:

lithos:
(I blame M-D's new sig).

I apologize!