I sat at my table. It was Wednesday. I had sandwiches and a ginger beer on Wednesdays. I sat silently observing everyone around me. A woman who was trying to shut up her two year old in vain, the potbellied man who looked at the daily paper like he was going to enter into its black and white depths, the sullen looking teenager who wouldn’t stop chewing on gum, smacking his lips in sickening fashion.
Clark cracked open his eyes. The sun had just started to come out in all its glory. It took him some time to get his bearings as he stared at the ceiling. He tried to shake off the depression he felt creeping in, but it just kept coming. He sighed
Lois stirred beside him. He turned to her and smiled. It had been almost a decade, and she still looked as beautiful and feisty as ever. He was still as in love with her as he was the first time he saw her. Her almond shaped eyes, her strong nose and the hard line that was her mouth; even now she was frowning slightly in her sleep. Then slowly, as Clark watched, she opened her eyes. She saw him and smiled.
In a galaxy not so far away, I stood in the command centre of the ‘Sinero’ (don’t ask i have no idea why we named it that either) and took in the sights I was privy to through the strong Plexiglas that stood between us and outer space.
The space station was the pride and joy of our defence corps; it has regularly been defined as the sturdiest structure in the world. We were probably the most elite force in the world but we didn’t even have a name; we just kinda called ourselves the defence corps. That was it, but we were feared and revered all over the world.
I’ve been told the stars have names, every single one of them. That some people who did not have problems decided to pass their time by naming them. White people! How is that even possible? There are too many of them and they all look alike, how could the namers tell them apart?
I try to concentrate more as I look at them, to see if I will notice some differences that had earlier eluded me but I see none, the only difference is that some are bigger and brighter.
The commander’s voice rang like a bell above the thumping of the drums in the clear afternoon. We sprang from our crouching position like thunderbolts from the hand of Xevioso, all three hundred of us moving as one. We reached our objective after a short sprint.
“Get your things now!” screamed Tolani Williams at his teenage daughter, Ashley. He was frantically stuffing things into a little duffel bag.
“Daddy? What’s going on? Where are we going?” asked, the clearly terrified teenager.
He looked at her. She still looked beautiful even with the strain of the last couple of days. She had lost weight. She had her mother’s high cheekbones, bright eyes and full lips. Her natural hair was neck length. It looked haggard now, but so did his. He hadn’t shaved in over a week, his hair was a mess and he was sure his clothes stank
Paul awoke suddenly, bed drenched in sweat. He looked around him to get his bearing. He couldn’t see much. There was no power.
‘Thanks Nepa!’ he thought. He was alone in his room. He glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table; it read 5:02am. He sighed, if he slept for an hour more, he’d have to get to work. He ran a hand through very short hair and rubbed his eyes, what was the dream he was having again? He could have sworn that he was having a dream. His heart relaxed, he hadn’t even realized it was beating fast, he took a deep breath and gave the room another once over. Whether because he was afraid of some unseen intruder or because he just liked peering into the darkness, he had no idea.
A mans sits in the middle of the park. Brooding, perhaps. It’s snowing, not so heavily but enough to be wrapped up. He wasn’t wrapped up. He was dressed moderately.
Not how you dress in December, not in this side of the country. His head, bowed down. Thinking, perhaps. He’s surrounded by children. They play, loudly. Occasional screams; nothing loud enough to break his concentration. No.
Yes, he’s thinking now. So much so, he doesn’t notice the child sitting next to him. The child is properly dressed for the weather but still, feels the sting of the December winter. It’s really cold.
It was the night before Christmas.
That’s usually how these stories begin right?
Fortunately for us, this is not a Christmas tale. This is not about “the most wonderful time of the year.” This is a tale about justice, fairness and people getting what they deserve, especially from big bellied deities who claim to go around dropping presents for kids under trees.
Lindsey had been a member of C.L.A.U.S. since she was six. You probably need an explanation (I was getting there, relax…Jeez).
I couldn’t decide on what to wear. I didn’t even know whether or not I had the right clothes for this. Truth was that I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Few months ago, I wouldn’t have even considered the possibility. I have been dating Stanley for over two months and we were yet to see each other. Of course we’ve met before we started dating – briefly. We were hooked up by a friend of mine who was dating his cousin. He appeared cool and seemed to physically meet my spec. Perfect, but then again I was attracted to a certain kind of weirdness that I didn’t see in him so I already felt at the time that nothing reasonable was going to happen. In fact he had this annoying habit of playing around with the rips on my jeans and I practically had to bite my tongue to prevent me from unleashing my medusa on him. After that first date (or whatever that shit was)I thought that would probably be the last I would hear from him. I was wrong.