RahneCloud

“Stand to, Captain,” Colonel Zaragoza snapped, more because of custom than mood, as he straightened the various papers that sat on his desk. He studied the top document calmly and let the man in front of him sweat a little as he took his time to scan the paper. Capitán Varga was one of the recently posted men, and in spite of his relatively high rank, he was still a little anxious about being called to the commander’s office for the first time. Varga sneered and tried not to show it, but Zaragoza could see through his mask and purposefully didn’t do anything to make him relax. He thought it best to prove the ru

I blinked. An absolute blank. Laughter. Music, scratchy, kind of far away. A solid, dark floor. And light. Loads and loads of light. I couldn't see anything, didn't know anything. "Hey, Lex, you all right?" I blinked, and saw a shape in front of me. It was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with dark hair and clear eyes. He was kind of handsome, and was smiling at me very pleasantly. I had no idea who he was. No idea at all. "Uh, hello? Someone in there?" He waved a hand in front of my face, and I realized I'd been silent for too long. He expected a reply. "Oh, um, pardon?" I said. My voice was clear and rather quiet. "Were you even paying a

There's an old man sitting in a church pew. His hair is a shock of silvery white, and he's wearing black and white suspenders with a pair of brown boat shoes. He looks sad, then pensive and serious. The old man frowns, thinking hard about something. Then he turns to the young man on his right and asks, "Which church is this?" The young man, a tallish twenty-something with bright green eyes, turns to look at him. "Um, St. Michael the Archangel's." The old man nods slowly. The young man looks puzzled, then turns to the front and closes his eyes. The old man looks around and sees a few people sitting here and there. He looks at his wristwatch,

London's full of fog dim lights through the haze some shadow slips by not noticed, unnamed The big houses sleep all ladies and sirs servants exhausted he went there to dine East End's still awake women beg for coins men collapse, drunken girls shush their babies He's watching it all silently noting only takes action when a girl is hit Beggars, urchins, drunks yes, he knows them all muggers are wary know not to hit him Gentleman by day a fighter at night defending justice while smoking a pipe

I feel like I'm nowhere Not here and not there. Don't know where I am. But am I truly lost? My friends: oblivious. Protected and blind. They cannot see it. Are they really my friends? My family: right here. I need more than them, But at least I know They will not forget me. I was abruptly torn From all that I knew, Now I can see that They were wrong, not right. Trapped between two strange worlds I feel so alone. Transparent, silent. So much like a ghost.

II. "Call me Ben," you said. "Can I buy you a coffee?" XV. At first I think it's branches on a window, but then I recognize the sound as fingernails on wood. I stand up and run a hand through my wet hair, the only effort I make to make myself presentable. Walking over to the door, I first check the cameras you installed. You know, just to be sure. I can't help hoping that it'll be you, sopping wet and ready to eat the dinner I made. It's a policeman. I. I was already in my second year of college. My major was forensic criminology. I'd seen you around the shop before, so I recognized you, but I didn't know who you were. You were twent

it was always just us, the eight girls, eight friends. we were known as smart, artsy and sporty. alone together, us against the whole world. it was the Tomboy's sis who first left the group. though she was still there, I could feel the change. I still remember going to all their houses. in spring, in autumn, in our small winters. but out of them all I can remember those breezy summer days. we used to go outside, and play in the street with only a ball or a single bike that'd entertain us for full hours on end. we all talked together and laughed at our things, yet I kept waiting for it to fall apart. friendship is

The Hunter Thank the Lord, I finally got a break. For the past two months the Dark Lord has been preparing for war. We've all been working twice as hard, and we're confident we shall be triumphant. I'm running through the woods so fast that everything's a blur.   Running. That's my gift. Some people are telepaths, others can fly, but I'm the only one who runs. I see a person. I slow down.  It's a girl, kneeling beside a deer, of all things. The deer is wounded. I can smell its blood. The girl's hands are glowing.  Sorceress. I jump out of the trees and cast a stunning spell at her. She throws up her hands, casting

Prologue It was a typical British summer day. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat at his desk, handling the yearly paperwork. Ah, the gloriously tedious aspects of managing a magical school. He didn't hear her enter, and only upon lifting his head to adjust his spectacles did he see a pair of rugged boots in front of his desk. He looked up. A young girl wearing a strange combination of  of male muggle clothes and wizarding items stood before him. She seemed unnaturally pale and tired, with dark circles under her eyes and parched lips. Her arms, left bare by an unusual sleeveless robe, were cover

I'm a sniper. As easy as that. At one time I used to work for the MI6. Not anymore. They betrayed me. I risked my life to prove some crazy conspiracy theory about biochemical warfare, and how do they repay me? By ordering to have me killed. Or at least they tried to kill me. You see, their mistake is that they vastly underestimated me. When I was a child, I was forced to get several genetic improvements. Those same improvements made me impossible to kill.  After they tried to get rid of me, I went into hiding for a year or so. And I met some very interesting people who told me very interesting things. The MI6 had lied to me. They said my f