Cliffhanger
Katie Thinks Fast
A swift kick to my ribs told me I wouldn't win this fight with strength. No matter what he did to me, I had to keep quiet. The minute the girls heard me struggling, they'd open the door to investigate. I'd left my phone on the nightstand, only planning to be in the hall for a few minutes.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Chapters
Don't I Know You?
Now that we were all together and in one piece I checked my phone; five thirty-four. Yikes! That only gave us a few minutes to get our things packed for the trip to Moms for the funeral. It seemed odd to call it Mom's place instead of Mom and Dad's. She sounded terrible on the phone earlier and I wasn't looking forward to Beanie telling her about our almost fatal swim. She had enough to fret about.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Chapters
When Worlds Collide
Officer Deb stayed with us throughout the ER visit, waiting patiently for us as they took Beanie for x-rays, and never complained about the long delay in getting them read. She and I occasionally chatted, but most of the time she spent scrolling through her phone, as I stared into space, wondering how Katie was doing without us.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Chapters
Descent (Part Ten). Content Warning.
Blinking, trying to push through a fog that had fallen over my thoughts, I struggled to understand what I was seeing. Looking for all the world like they were at mass, or waiting for the bride to emerge at a wedding, rank on rank of people knelt with heads bowed. Each one facing the man at the front. The ranks were not perfect, holes stood out reminding me of gaps in a smile.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Chapters
Birth Marks
Heather, a later teen, lies awake; staring off into the ceiling late at night, contemplating what she saw was a dream or not. Her eyes eroding with fatigue while she continuously stared at the ceiling. Her hands rested gently on her midi nightdress with a fold, feeling the rough fabric of thick sheer underneath them. Heather's eyebrows gently squeezed together as she tried to make sense of it all. Did she eat a poisonous plant by accident when she was having one of her adventures through the woods? Maybe it was her imagination going too far, or maybe she brushed up against something that causes hallucinations. That must be it, right? - there was no possible way that could've been real.
By Noah Lichtenbergabout a year ago in Chapters
My learnings as a market researcher
Learning is the only way to move forward, the err to your growth is the belief that you know everything. The beauty of existence lies in challenging your limits, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and performing the tasks that scare you and motivate you to become a better version of yourself. Life has its unique ways of compelling you to embrace the unknown and forging you to uplevel your game.
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Chapters
The War of the Americas - Chapter VII
Author's preface: The earlier parts of the story can be found at the links. Chapter I, II, III, IV, V, VI Sylvia sat quietly in the very back row of the heavily armored prisoner transport bus with her head down and her hands ziptied behind her back. Four Mexican soldiers armed with FX-05 Xiuhcoatl rifles patrolled the aisle of the bus which currently was home to Sylvia and at least fifty other American POWs. All had been recently arrested after they were declared enemy combatants following the United States bombing of several targets along the US Mexican border including the city of Tijuana and the (formerly) busiest land border crossing in the world at San Ysidro. That crossing had been reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble by US cruise missiles launched from just offshore, killing hundreds, including at least 150 US customs and border patrol agents who had not been prewarned about the surprise attack. Sylvia was well acquainted with firearms and had great respect for the FX-05 assault rifle which was designed and built by the Dirección General de Industria Militar del Ejército (General Directorate of Military Industry of the Army) through the Fabricas Militares (Military Factory). The name translated roughly as "Fire Serpent", or literally "Turquoise-Serpent" in classical Nahuatl, a language with which Sylvia was only passingly familiar, unlike the six other languages she spoke fluently which included Latin, Ancient Greek, and Middle Egyptian along with Spanish, English, Italian, and German. The fact that she was fluent in Spanish or any other language was something she kept secret from the Mexicans and everyone else. The more they saw her as just another ignorant American the better. Her knowledge of Spanish had allowed her to learn a few things the guards had spoken amongst themselves thinking no one would understand. Importantly, she had heard that the war against Mexico was not at all popular in the United States. Donald Trump had gravely miscalculated the appetite of the average American for bloodshed, especially when it was American's blood that was being shed. The families of the CBP agents killed in the bombing of San Ysidro border crossing had rallied a huge number of Americans to their sides in protest and marched on Washington en masse. Thousands or even tens of thousands of Americans had been arrested and imprisoned in makeshift prison camps scattered around the Washington DC area. She and the other prisoners had been constantly on the move for almost a week. Changing from bus to bus as they slowly made there way to wherever it was they were going. She had learned that they were still in the Mexican border state of Baja, California and were heading to a newly erected prison camp somewhere just south of Mexicali. She had feared they would be flown to the mainland and imprisoned there, but at least for now that did not seem to be the plan. Sylvia was very afraid of what she might find when they finally did reach their destination. She had only been interrogated perfunctorily when initially arrested, a fact she was puzzled by, but knew a much more serious interrogation lay in wait for her. She had been rehearsing her cover story and was prepared for anything they might throw at her. The fact that she had been rehearsing and preparing a similar cover story to use with her own husband had she not decided to tell him about her new job with the CIA made the process much easier. The CIA had also helped her considerably in this regard by making sure she had rock solid alibis in place for each and every place she would claim to have been, and every thing she would claim to have done and been doing over the past almost two years of living in Mexico and working in the United States.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Chapters
