Christiney

The Wizengamot filed into the dungeon slowly.  The usually somber group seemed rather cheerful that day.  I suppose cheerfulness is a fortunate side effect of having the world’s pre-eminent, undefeatable dark wizard defeated and about to be put on trial. “Morning, Albus,” Penelope Prewett, the chairperson of the Wizengamot said to me, smiling broadly.  “I know this must be a very happy day for you; to finally see justice served to that barbarian,” she looked thoughtful, “Although if you had just killed him I would have had it taken care of Albus…” “Thank you, Penelope,” I said, cutting her o

Of course Santa exists—whatever could have made you think otherwise?  Well, okay, maybe I can imagine a few select circumstances where you may lose a bit of faith in me…but in all honesty I find it a bit harsh—to say the least—that you were able to forget about me so easily.  And after all those expensive presents.  Legos aren’t cheap, you know.  They don’t grow on trees. I know you may have been a bit naughty one year (who hasn’t had a naughty year?), and you didn’t receive any presents from me.  Or maybe you got socks.  (I give socks to children that really irk me…)  But that doesn’t mean I

Simon had never been much interested in astronomy before.  Waxing, waning, crescent, full--they were never significant terms.  The had most certainly never held sway over his peace of mind...  He had come to associate waning with peace, waxing with anxiety. Now even the sight of a glowing orb caused Simon to break out in a cold sweat, digging his unusually long and sharp nails into his palms. The result of this frequent, albeit mild, self-mutilation was a series of four raw crescent-moon scars imprinted in the fleshy part of his palm.  And of course these moon scars only served to jog his memory and cause him further distress. It's like a c

 Caleb stared blankly out the window.  His mind felt numb; his senses were deadened.  Raising his pointer finger before his eyes and studying it, Caleb could detect no physical difference in the digit.  But it was numb.  It was as if the finger had been dipped in boiling water then put on ice; burned and frozen simultaneously.  But the temperatures, he supposed, had cancelled each other out and left only the numbing, gnawing pain. It was strange, Caleb thought, how such purely emotional trauma had affected him so physically.  In that moment, his body felt much older than his 27 yea

June 7, 2038 11:58:17 AM She was home alone when it happened.  Not completely alone--the cat, Lysander, was prowling about upstairs--but for all intents and purposes, she was alone when it happened.  Her isolation is the most likely explanation for why she didn't realize what had happened for over an hour. The girl in question went by the name of Netta, Jacquenetta Grey by birth.  Her rather peculiar name had attracted much attention over the years, and although she gave her parents grief about their questionable naming practices, she quite enjoyed her peculiar name and the attention it attracted.