Chair

  The sanding was complete, and now he lovingly applied the stain.  His hands shook now, but not enough to cause issue.  The rag was thick, and the smells of the wood and the stain mixed in his nostrils.  It was pleasant.
   He paused and stood, looking at the ornate handcrafted chair.  When he was finished, this would be the culmination of nearly one hundred fifty years of painstaking work.  It was his greatest achievment.

Lightning Bolt

   Alec had been knocked unconsious.  He remembered he'd been running.  He remembered that it had started to rain.  But he remembered little after that.
  He sat up, maybe a little fast, but he felt surprisingly well.  Something on his arm began to itch.  As he reached to scratch it, a small arc of electricity danced across his skin.
   That was odd.

House

   The little house sat alone in the middle of the meadow.  The paint was peeling, and the windows were broken out, but other than that it was in remarkably good shape.
   The nearby lake had dried up, and the roads had all been destroyed by the storms.  It was a miracle they had found it at all.
   Michael looked to the sky.  He hoped they could make it there in time.

The Statue

   The statue stood tall on the cliffs overlooking the ocean.  Though weathered by time, it still reigned over it's little patch of land, mostly intact.  The civilization that had built it was long since gone, with little left to show they had even existed.  But the statue stood, a testament to their greatness, and their fallacy.

Last Shot

3 Seconds: Hear the squeak of a shoe as your defender bites on the fake.  Smile.

2 Seconds: Move right.  Notice that the beat of your heart and the ball on the court, sound the same.

1 Second: Pull up.  Ignore the sweat dripping in your eyes.  Release.

16,000 ft.

   He paused briefly.  The sweat was pouring down his body, under his heavy outfit.  His ice climbing gear felt heavy in his hands, on his back, on his feet.  Small clouds of fog puffed in front of his face as his labored breathing condensed in the air.  His muscles were rubbery, and he felt it would be nearly impossible for him to continue on.  But his friend was still up there, and he would die before he abandoned him.  He gritted his teeth, and continued on.

Letter

   The letter was written in an elaborate hand, long flowing loops and superfluous tails.  The writer clearly had a flair for the dramatic, especially when the content was considered.
   But more than anything, the signature disturbed him.  Though not a name, the symbol was clearly recognizable.  The person, or thing, that they were dealing with was very powerful, and very dangerous.

Dogfight

  The gunner lined his sights up on the German plane and pulled the trigger.  There was nothing, not even the dull click of an empty magazine.
   He looked back to his pilot, and found he wasn't there.  Neither was the German plane any longer, for that matter.  He was already dead.  He just hadn't realized it yet.

Ever Upward

  Dantello urged his mount upward.  The storm was unlike anything he had seen before.  Unfathomably loud peals of thunder felt as though they would tear him from the back of his Pegasus.  His steed, normally unflappable in the face of danger, was nervous.  Driving rain pelted at them both, and bolts of lighting flashed all around them.  With one final push, they broke through the clouds and into the sunlight above.  The city had to be here.  It was just a matter of knowing where to look.

The Shore

   The shore was awash with bodies.  Some fresh, some rotting for weeks.  The stench was almost unbearable, and Victor retched.  The dark dead holes in their skulls stared at him, as if blaming him for this tragedy.  Why didn't you save us, they asked.  He clutched his cross close to him under his robes, and asked God for a sign that things would be okay.  He knelt in the sand, and waited.

Chapel

   Twelve steps.  That was all that lay between him and the altar, but he stopped.  His best friends looked at him with expressions of confused concern.  The women to their left looked at him with faces of fear and anger.  Basically everyone else he'd ever known lined the pathway upon which he stood, all beaming with excitement and happiness.  Was he doing this for himself, or for them?

Nope

   "Man, 40 sucks.  What I wouldn't give to have a do-over, knowing what I know now."
   "Amen dude.  Hey, I have an idea!  Why don't we tell younger people about our mistakes, so they can have better, more fullfilling lives!"
   "Oh my God, great idea man.  Teenagers are eager to learn and will totally listen to our wisdom.  We're going to help so many people."

Knee

   She stabbed the knife into her skin, and the ooze began to pour out.  It burned as it flowed from the joint, and singed her flesh on the way down her leg.  What the hell was it, and why was it green?  Despite the pain there was relief as well, relief from getting the poison out of her body.  What was happening to her?

Rendevouz

   The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air in the clearing, and beams of sunlight filtered through the tree branches to the soft grass below.  He could understand why Anlyn wanted to meet here.  It was a truly beautiful place.
   The faint sound of hooves on dirt reached his ears and he turned around in anticipation.  The smile quickly faded from his lips.  Something told him that the hooded figure on horseback was not his beloved.

The Other Side of the Road

   Reynolds took a long drag of his cigarette as he saw the headlights.  Dutch was here, mad as hell, and probably armed.  Didn't matter.  Fate had a way of bringing things full circle.  Their meeting here, now, had a certain air of melodrama about it.
   He flicked the still lit butt into the weeds, and pulled back the hammer of his three-fifty-seven magnum.  If this was his destiny, so be it.

Monopoly

   Snuffy was getting sick of this game.  If he landed on Park Place one more time....
   "Ha!  Pay up, long neck!"
   Snuffy was out of his chair in a flash and Remy the Rhino found he had a long barreled revolved pressed against the rough hide in between his eyes.
   The room hushed.  Sure, it was difficult for Snuffy to hold a six shooter with just a hoof, but he had years of practice.  The giraffe's name was really Gerald, but there was a reason everyone called him Snuffy.

Tank

   "Holy shit, Jay.  They've got a tank!"
    Jay didn't say anything.  He was pretty sure there had been an RPG in the bunker not 50 feet to their left.  He hadn't been able to grab it when they'd been forced to run, but he thought maybe he could get to it now.
   Without really thinking, he jumped up from behind the rocks, and started running.  He could only hear two sounds: the mechanical whir of the tank's turret turning, and his own beating heart.
   He slid feet first into the bunker.  It was small, and the RPG was within arms reach.  He grabbed it, and as quickly as he could, jammed the business end into the opening.
   Both tank and soldier fired at the same time.

Sad

   Fred awoke slowly, pulled from a fuzzy dream he couldn't quite remember.  The living room was tipped on it's side, and he realized he'd fallen asleep on the floor again.  He stretched gently.  The carpet was soft on his cheek, softer than carpet of this age had any right to be.  Though he moved only slightly, his face touched a damp section of the floor.  The memories flooded back to him, and he began to cry again.

Blood

   "I think these shelves are gonna look real good here, Mrs. Winters."
   "Oh, thank you so much Timothy.  Let me get you some lemonade."
   As she wandered off, Timothy reached for his hammer on the mantle.  In doing so, he bumped his arm into an urn, knocking it to the floor.  Rather than the sound of shattering ceramic he'd expected, he heard a dull metallic thud.
   Instead of spilled ashes, he noticed a dark liquid slowly oozing from the jar.  He bent down, dipped his fingers in the thick red fluid, and brought them to his lips.  The familiar warmth trickled across his tongue and down his throat.  He smiled.
   A noise from the kitchen grabbed his attention.  He rose, quickly licking his fingers clean, and calmly folding his arms behind his back.

Lies

   "I have an original Picasso sitting in my garage."
   This would happen from time to time.  Arnie would just spout lie after lie for seemingly no reason.  Sometimes it was an amusing spectacle, but right now it was just annoying.
   "Also, I ran the 100 meter dash over the weekend in just under nine seconds."
   "No you didn't, Arnie.  You weigh 280 pounds."
   "One time, I ate Bill Clinton."
   "What?!  He just gave a speech at a university in Maryland, literally today.  I'm seriously starting to question your sanity."
   "....He was delicious."

No Drama

   "Whoa whoa whoa.  This coffee is cold."
   "Yeah...it's an iced coffee."
   "No, no, what I ordered was an iced coffee."
   The barista was puzzled.
   "Yes sir.  That is an iced coffee...."
   The customer looked as his drink and laughed.
   "Oh, yeah, I guess it is.  What do I owe you?"
   "Four seventy-six."
   The customer dropped a five dollar bill on the counter.
   "Keep the change," he said, with a wink.

Shower

   Sandy guessed being alone in the dorm wasn't that bad after all.  At least it was quiet, and no one was around to give her crap if she wanted to take a long shower.
  She didn't exactly want to stay in, but haunted houses were so high school.  She hung her robe on the door hook and started the water.
   Chase was going to be there.  It was a nice thought, but there was class in the morning, and probably a quiz.  She stepped into the shower.  It wasn't until the curtain was pulled closed that she felt the hand grab her ankle.

Captivity

  There was no telling how long he had sat against this wall with his hands chained above him.  Days and nights blurred together, and time had become meaningless in his delirium.
   He tried not to eat when the guards brought his food, but hunger was a powerful thing, and it won out against his will.   He long ago stopped wishing for freedom.  Now he only wished for death.

   While there was no pain, during the night, he could feel the rats eating his legs, and it kept him awake.  It wasn't until the light of morning that he could see the horrors inflicted upon his body.