The briefcase and half empty glass of juice meant only one thing. Julia tapped her papers against the glass table. “Why do you always do this?” Robin dragged his fork through the syrup running over his pancakes. “Why do I always do what?” “This.” Robin pointed at her briefcase with his dripping fork. “Go to work?” “It’s lame. When I grow up I’m gonna be a dancer.” Julia leaned down to the boy’s level where his blue eyes pierced her own. “That sounds wonderful. I know you’ll do that but until then …” Julia lifted his backpack and ballet slippers.
“I leave my playstation … To no one. There won’t be anyone left.” The world played on normally outside his window. “I wish I’d told them.” He waited. The countdown ticked away to 0. Then … nothing. “Mark! What the hell. I told you to get ready an hour ago! Come on, we’ll be late.”
Word Count: 280 characters/55 words For Twittering Tales which I haven’t done in a while.
“That things a voodoo doll.” Lori kneeled down beside her sister. “It is not.” The duo peered into the room where Ms. Mack snored with her mouth agape towards the ceiling. “Of course it is. Why do you think your stomach always hurts when we’re here?” Lori tapped the side of Jules head. “Think about it.” “It’s a pin cushion you meathead.” “No, a pin cushion looks like a tomato.” Lori nodded towards the coffee table where Ms. Mack’s sewing supplies spread over the edges and onto the floor. “Hers has little people on it. All the kids she watches.”
I’m not sure how I’ve let 10 days go by without writing but somehow it happened. I guess I’ve been busy. I have back to back trips this week, I was camping over the weekend and now I have just a little bit of downtime before going to California.
To try and make up for my lack of content here are some pictures from the camping trip this weekend.
“Are they dancing?” “Malfunctioning.” Brant muttered over his cigarette. The two soldiers watched from behind the bushes. “Are these the last ones?” “Should be. They’re robots, they can’t reproduce.” The private charged up his laser gun. “Let’s go.”
#1434 didn’t understand. The men and their lasers raced across the empty lot. #1434 was sure it felt something forming inside but what exactly escaped it’s wire body and central unit. #1434 tapped a small collection of garbage cans. ‘Time to wake up’. The garbage cans, one piled on top of another, jerked it’s spindly arms. #1434 had given life to #1435.