Not Happily Ever After

I remember her first making the comment as we lay together, exhausted, in the afterglow of our third date.  I'd propped myself up on one elbow, turning to look over at where she lay on the dew-dampened grass.

"You know," I commented, "I think that this was the best date I've ever had."

She turned her head a little, smiling back at me.  Even in the dim moonlight, I caught the little hint of violet in her sparkling eyes.  "I knew it would be," she murmured back to me.

Her fingers reached out, lazily, their tips dragging across my bare chest.  "Might as well just write the 'happy ever after' ending now, huh?" I said, keeping my tone light.  Just a joke, I told myself.  Don't admit how hard you've already fallen for this girl.

"Happily ever after?" she repeated back, her eyebrows furrowing together slightly.  "No, this isn't happily ever after."

Dark Matter Cretins

The coffee cup felt reassuringly heavy in his hand.  Captain Xavier Holland turned it over in his hand for a moment, admiring its simplistic lines.

Sitting forward, he wound back - and heaved the cup as hard as he could.

A direct hit.  The cup clattered against Ensign Bran's shoulder, making the man jerk and yelp.  "What the hell?" he burst out, spinning around to stare with injured eyes at his captain.

[AGttA] 2.1: Loneliness

Continued from chapter 2.0, here.
Click here to read the entire story from the beginning.

Axiom 2: Gather supplies.

Journal, it's been close to a week now.  I know this, because I found a calendar covered in cute little pictures of kitties, and I've been crossing off the days on it.  Six crossed off days means that it's been almost a week.

I'm not sure what I'll do when I run past the end of December.  I don't think they're printing more calendars any longer.

Also, have I mentioned how much I hate eating beans?

Side Effects May Include Superpowers

The CEO struggled to suppress his yawn as he listened to his Chief Financial Officer drone on.  Sure, the man was a wizard at making numbers jump through hoops - and vanish, when they weren't exactly necessary to keep around - but good God, his presentation skills were terrible.

The CEO surreptitiously glanced down at his watch, a $45,000 Piaget for which he'd spent six months on a waiting list.  Either he paid all that money for a knockoff, or else the Financial Officer was literally making time itself slow down out of sheer boredom.

"Okay, well, it sounds like that's going well," he spoke up, slapping his hand on the conference table and cutting off the Financial Officer mid-sentence.  "Let's hear from someone else, shall we?"

Through the Mirror

I glanced back behind me even as I slowed my pace.  I'd lost them - for now.  I could hear their footsteps, however, not stopping.

They'd keep on searching for me until they found me.  I needed to disappear.

The inside of the clothing shop felt strange with the lights turned off.  Mannequins loomed suddenly out of the darkness, their hands stretched out as though reaching for me.  I dodged around them, forcing my mouth shut and trying not to let any sound escape my lips.

There, in the back!  I hurried towards the doorway leading into the rear of the shop, below the sign that read CHANGING ROOMS.

As I ran past the counter, however, a corner of my jacket caught at a hook, extending out from the edge.  I felt the tug, turned to try and catch the falling item - but my fingers were too slow.

[AGttA] 2.0: Supplies

Continued from chapter 1.2, here.

Axiom 2: Gather supplies.

Well, journal, it's two days later, and I'm feeling a little better about my situation.

Should I be calling you a journal?  What's the difference between a journal and a diary?  Ooh, I know, I'll look it up with my brand new DICTIONARY, right here!

Let's see...

Okay.  A journal is "a daily record of news and events of a personal nature; a diary."  Hmm.

Journal, maybe I'm going a little crazy from lack of human interaction, but at least my situation seems fairly good aside from that little issue.

Near Disaster

"Madam President!  We need to get you into the bunker?"

The large, burly member of the Secret Service detail couldn't help but roll his eyes when Madam Elaine Clifton, the President of the United States - and arguably the most powerful person in the world - finally appeared around the corner.  She looked somewhat out of breath already, and she clutched a large, struggling orange tomcat in her arms.

"Sorry, sorry," President Clifton panted, trying to adjust her grip on the wriggling animal so that he couldn't slip out of her determined grasp.  "Little Georgie-kins here just didn't want to come out from underneath the couch!"

Another eye roll.  Kane, the Secret Service member, offered up a brief but fervent thank-you to whoever decided to include tinted sunglasses in the uniform design for the President's guards.  Were it not for those shades blocking his eyes, he would have been fired long ago.