"You bastard! A ring, now? Now?"
"But I love --."
"It's April 1st! YOU UNBELIEVABLE BASTARD!"
He was a magician,and that meant many things. But less with each funeral he attended.
His superpower was to set off car alarms just by looking at cars.
The seance was an ugly affair: a of a black goat was sacrificed, true Names spoken, awful forces bound to witness the act of her will upon the world.
"I don't understand," he whispered as he appeared beside her bed. Being dead hadn't been pleasant. Being dragged back into the world had been far worse.
"You died before me. We swore we'd be together forever. This way we will."
"But the living can't haunt the dead."
"You think so?" She smiled. "Just you watch me."
'Unexpected Pleasure': nickname given by the press to the world's most popular serial killer.
“You can go talk to him.”
“It’ll become politics. It always does and I’ll say the wrong thing and screw it up.”
“Just be yourself,” Bryce said. “Wait, that won’t help.”
I punched him in the arm and he just grinned and gave me a shove to the door.
“You’ve done fine so far, Wray. No one is dead yet.”
“That’s when politics breaks down?”
“No, that’s when it becomes interesting.
"True winter is being so cold that we forget what warmth is. Sometimes it is like that, with your mother and me."
"It’s all gone sour. All my plans, my goals, my dreams. The ugliness under my grand ambitions has swallowed it whole: when I try to join It, the Singularity just laughs at me."
"The day it stops raining will be the saddest day of all. If the sky no longer cries for us, we shall have to cry for ourselves."
"What kind of god judges and forbids judgement in turn?"
Her wit was so sharp that no one laughed when she finished the joke, too busy checking to see if they were bleeding.
"I am sorry I could not meet with you. I have been very busy not dying: it does take up an inordinate amount of time."
"I know humans can kill us but on their own, without luck and a really good weapon? It’s not going to happen. Your average high school student won’t have access to a rocket launcher or sniper rifle." She thought about that.
"We can’t find the truth if we’re too busy trying to escape out fears."
"What if they’re the same thing?"
Fake Fact: Las Vegas is really an alien theme park.
"You cannot hate me half so much as I hate myself."
"Maybe not. But I can give it a go."
You can make more money by giving something away than by selling it.
What if history was subject to peer review?
A story idea rummaging in the back of my head:
Re-tell Cinderella, from the pov of a boy named Ash, his wicked step-brothers and the princess at the ball.
From old novel notes: stuff I will probably never use.
STARVE: Society to Achieve Responsible Vampire Emancipation
GROWL: Grassroots Organization for Werewolf Liberation
"You can tell the truth and be kind," Boy said. "Or be silent."
"And that serves truth, does it?" Reynard Fox pressed, circling him as Boy followed the hints of the path in the woods.
"You think silence is better than lies, a world rendered mute better than one with song?"
"I don't know." Boy looked away from the fox. "I think, I think even if I was whole with memory, I still wouldn't know. But I bet a fox that everyone knows tells lies could get away with an awful lot of truths."
Reynard Fox let out a soft yip at that. "Oh, that is true as well," he said, because he couldn't not boast if given half a chance. "If you are clever enough, you never have to lie at all."
"You're going to eat me?" Boy said, more concerned with that than even how bad the ogre's song had been.
"Of course!" The female ogre looked considerably surprised. "What else are humans for if not eating? You don't even have any pesky fur to remove at all."
You never realize how fragile a story is until you tell it to others and it falls apart under their regard. Only the great lies can survive this.
"No one becomes a ghost unless they have something to hide, something so big that death itself cannot release them from it."