01.15.10
“Daddy, I broke my stick. Can I have another one?” Tessie asked, ponytail swinging as she hopped from one foot to another to emphasise her need for a new stick. She knew he wouldn’t refuse her, but the action earned her an even bigger smile.
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01.08.10
Gaspard Daurenx, Vaultkeeper for the Liege, had been at his post since sundown, but it wasn’t until the last of the drunken revellers had begun to make their way home that he’d started to feel nervous. The Feast of Rosemonde had now ended, and it would not be long before d’Angerville showed up. Daurenx shivered – whether due to his ageing bones feeling the cold or because it was nearly time, he could not know. He was not proud of what he was about to do, but these were desperate times. He sighed; at least the night was as dark as it could be. He felt it fitting that the heavens would not be illuminating his act of treason.
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12.31.09
Loki Treize had traveled a long way in both space and time to fullfil his mission – from his home planet millions of light years away to Old Earth, at a time a few centuries before he had been born. He had managed to escape his war-ravaged world in a stolen Chronambulist-10, and had landed in one piece on the mother planet. His mission was unsavoury, to say the least, but he knew there was no alternative. The boy could not be allowed to live.
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12.24.09
The band were leaving the stage to loud applause from the crowd as Death walked unseen into the venue. He checked his diary: 11:03pm, Tony Evans, goatee beard, tattoos on forearms, black leather trousers and a Motorhead t-shirt. Death sighed; locating his latest charge in this crowd could take some time and it was already 11:02:49. Then he spotted a commotion near the bar: a body lay on the floor and two men were trying to resuscitate it while a third ran to get help. A soul hovered over the body, looking confused. Death berated himself for not being there in time to greet it. He rushed to the soul, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from the Big Man if he got there after the paramedics.
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12.18.09
Her husband was coming home today, and joy mingled with apprehension in her thoughts. His letter, written on the hospital ward, had not been out of arm’s reach since it had arrived – she must have read it over a hundred times by now, almost not daring to believe that it was true. The war was over for him: a leg cut off at the knee had seen to that.
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12.11.09
I was still dry-heaving when the police arrived at the scene. I didn’t think I’d be going for a run in this part of the woods again, somehow. The sun, still low in the east, was shining straight into my eyes, but this was preferable to looking in the other direction. Not that it would have made any difference – the image of the bludgeoned girl was plastered all over my mind’s eye and was unlikely to go away any time soon.
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12.04.09
You must understand, I meant no harm. I was only trying to help. Really, when you think about it, our people are no worse off this way. We are effectively dead already, and have been ever since They came. Ever since They interfered with the Dreamers. Don’t look at me like that. You’d have done exactly the same thing if you’d had the opportunity. If you’d been the one to find the Dreamer They didn’t manage to kill. If your ears hadn’t already been shriveled and your fur turned coarse from living under the shadow Their world has cast upon ours.
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11.27.09
I have only been dead for a week and already I’ve been summoned to see the Beast. Woodhouse shakes his head in that despairing way of his.
“I’ve been here for two years and he’s not asked to see me once”, he says, in his best underdog voice. Woodhouse is such a likeable fellow that no one can figure out why he hasn’t been moved up a long time ago, let alone why he was sent to a hub as low as Hub 12 in the first instance. We can’t ask him what he did to be brought here, of course – it is not the done thing. In prison, everyone may be innocent, but here we all know better. Nevertheless, in Woodhouse’s case one cannot help but think that he might be an anomaly. Even the Beast himself is perplexed by the chap’s presence, as I am about to find out.
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11.25.09
I will never forget how she looked when I saw her, on that morning as I was jogging in the woods: the dappled light dancing on her face, dark hair caressing her shoulders in the gentle breeze, full lips slightly parted, eyes bulging and feet still twitching a little as she hung from the tree.
11.20.09
The combination of 4 inch stiletto heels, cobblestone pavement and an attempt to fish out a cigarette packet from an overflowing handbag proved too much for her inner ear; she toppled over and felt the sharp pain of a twisted ankle. When she looked up and saw Death standing over her with his hand outstretched, she nearly had a heart attack.
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