Marie Dei

Harold Darwin Maison is an average looking man. About 5'9 in height with a slightly stocky frame, he didn't looked any different from a typical american man. Sandy hair fell beneath his nape with dark brown eyes that roughly a few million american's shared. Throw him in a crowd and no one would look at him twice. Even worse was the dull unremarkable outfits he wore. Sometimes it would be faded jeans and a washed out shirt over an old jacket. Sometimes a gray suit. Others times a typical working man's shirt and overalls. The combination of his looks and the clothes he wore turned him into a ghost. Except when he opened his mouth. Someone would died. The few people who knew him, told him that character of his was unerringly creepy and Harold just looked at them with a level eye. It got their mouths closing and leaving the subject better left unsaid. Though there were rumors that his voice was liquid silk. Of molten gold that could drown a person's senses. Enough

I knew without a doubt, something bad would happen. It's like a deep gut feeling buried deep between my ribs ever since I left the eerie fortune teller from the circus. Like most people I don't believe in that stuff. It was just a con to lose your money. But the old fortune teller sitting in the booth struck me curious. Why? Well, first thing he was blind. You don't see blind con man still on the job, now do you? And yes, he was authentically blind. I know because I worked in a nursing home for the critically disabled for years. Looking into those murky gray eyes confirmed it. But that wasn't all. He acted like he could see everything. That or those contact lens he's wearing were damn convincing and once our eyes met he smiled, gestured invitingly over to his stall. Wary but curious, I approached the old man. His tiny booth had a table with a crystal ball in it and two chairs. He sat on one, looking eager to have finally caught a customer. I decided to play

He stood across the room, gray eyes somber and cloudy like a coming storm in the rainy seasons. We never said a word but tension and accusations hung between us so thick I was choking with it. His arms were folded and closed. I couldn't read anything from his face. It looked like it was made from stone. I clenched my fist and instead looked out the window. It was a clear sunny day. So opposite of the emotions here in this room. I wanted to say I was sorry but my throat felt tight and I was afraid. I was afraid of many things. Finally he moved. A statue come to life and stopped by the table where I sat. He tossed a picture and i felt my eyes burn. It spoke a thousand words. Of hurt. Of betrayal. Of things gone wrong. Of regret. I forced myself to stare at the picture. Of me and another man. His best friend. Arms around each other in a lover's embrace. Mouths devouring each other like we needed oxygen. I dared to glance at his eyes and what I saw broke something insid

Today was the day she had been looking forward to this month. Little Susie quietly climbed down the stairs, glancing at her parent's bedroom door every once in a while to make sure they were still asleep. She wore a happy grin, happy and elated to see her plan coming along nicely. She made sure to wake up earlier than them because she wanted this day to be special and to make up for all the times her parents were pulled away from work. The house was quiet save for her soft padded footsteps and she entered the kitchen to begin her master plan. An hour or so later, little Susie came out of the kitchen carrying a large tray that looked too heavy for her to carry. In it were a large stack of pancakes and two glasses full of orange juice. She was careful not to drop anything on the floor as she carried it to the stop of the stairs. She set the tray on the floor and quietly turned the door knob, peeking inside the dark room. Her parents were still asleep and unaware of their dau

He stood there, in the middle of falling snow, lost eyes staring aimlessly in the distance. A small shadow walks up to him and they both stare quietly beyond the white landscape. "Aren't you cold?" The small shadow said. "No. Not really." "You should come back inside. It's warmer." "There is nothing left for me there. Not anymore." "There is hot stew and fresh baked bread." The man does not reply nor does he move an inch. The shadow stays for a while longer before heading back in, leaving the man alone with his lost thoughts.

Second Chances Certain circumstances left him to conclude that his impending death was near. If this was a jest, he would have laughed it off however the numbing cold spreading over his body while his life blood leakin Everything had happened too fast. But  His abductors had caught him unawares, bound him and took him to their lair to which they proceeded to threaten, abuse and did unspeakable things to him. After all, his father happened to be a very prosperous merchant. The ransom would be worth his weight in gold. Greed was the fuel that motivated his abductors but jealously ruled behind it. He felt tears in his eyes as he recalled his abductors conversation before they threw him out. They thought he was unconscious, beaten to oblivion and through the long days of torment. They were wrong. He was only pretending to be asleep. He hoped they would stop beating him once they knew he was out cold. Then he heard a familiar voice. Inside his mind, he rejoiced. 'It is brother Vi