Adventure
The Capes Of Planet Poloto
The view looked great from the left window seat on flight 753. The sky was clear with no clouds in sight, at least from my view. It was around 2:00 pm and this was our second trip back to Indiana from Orlando Florida. Hello, my name is Tommy Vector and I am an 11-year-old kid with no sisters or brothers. My mother was sitting next to me listening to her music on her headphones; she likes to listen to classical music like Mozart and Beethoven. The flight attendant walked by and said. “Hello young man, would you like something to drink? I said '' Sure, yes, please! Can I have a cup of Apple Juice? As I nudged mom to see if she wanted anything as the flight attendant responded back. How about you ma’am? Mom then answered back, “Just Water Please.” and the flight attendant answered back, “Yes, of course, I'll be right Back.”
By Anthony Leclair3 years ago in Fiction
It's the Dawning of the Cage of Aquariums
I can't believe I am in an outdoor flea market, it's so humiliating. My keepers are moving to the Bahamas and leaving me to some whiney kid most likely. It's sunny out and I am a loner. I requested a tank cleaner, but I shut my trap when I overheard my "family" talking after dinner and the choices they were going over were seriously evil. Luckily, the insanely bad violinist "Maestro" Mary who was perhaps twelve overheard her parents and older brother, Jerky Joe arguing over what to do with me. "Dad just flush him, sell the tank and get it over with, what's the big deal?" Maestro Mary ran in and hit him in the back of the head. He swung at her yelling, “Get away from me you little freak!”
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Fiction
Stella: Seal Agent
3 p.m. EST, Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta, GA Dr. Marino’s evil cackle fills the air as they point a gun at the prone female. “You have failed agents! Now, I will be able to take credit for the All-Animal Translator but also alter it so I can control any animal! I will be powerful!”
By Alexandria Stanwyck3 years ago in Fiction
Eli's Project
Dee got back in her car and then turned left out of the shipyard. The Park was less than ½ mile down Middle Harbor Rd, on the left. As soon as she turned out of the Shipyard, she saw all the flashing lights. The metal bar gate, with its PARK CLOSED sign, was blocking the entrance drive, but an OPD officer was standing there to let official vehicles in and out. From the gate, Dee could see half a dozen squad cars, Sgt. Collins SUV and the Coroner van all parked on the paved circle around the huge metal pole that was the Oakland Mast. The Park Rangers were even here to close down the Park from the public until the Crime Scene could be processed. The main piece of equipment present was the huge firetruck, parked in the grass directly in front of the Mast, with its ladder fully extended. A large white sheet hanging from the end of the ladder blocked whatever was on the top of the mast from view. On the other side of the paved circle, there was a Parks and Rec bucket truck, and she could just make out the slim form of Sundae's partner Mike Rollo, in the bucket up there to the left of the giant sheet. She assumed he was up there snapping pictures and taking samples. Dee pulled into the small parking lot nearby, got out, and walked over to where the Alameda County Coroner, Dr. Harperson, and her boss, Sgt. Collins was standing on the paved circle, necks craned back, intently watching whatever was going on up there behind the sheet.
By Angela Mabry3 years ago in Fiction
Eli's Project
The LAPD had a reputation for misconduct and mishandling of cases. In Detective Madera “Dee” Segura's opinion, it wasn't because of bad officers. You can't judge all the apples on the tree because of a few rotten ones on the ground. In the 15 years, she had lived and worked in L.A, she had seen a lot of horrible things, but she had made friends and allies in the Force. Decent officers just trying to do their job, just like her. Then she moved to Oakland. She didn't necessarily want to leave the LAPD, but the transfer had meant a promotion to Detective and a bit of a slower pace. Of course, Oakland had crime, and horrible things happened here, same as anywhere else. It came down to a matter of scale. Los Angeles had 3.9 million residents and almost 10,000 officers. Oakland, in comparison, only had about 434,000 residents and 750 officers. There, she had been just another Badge, lost in the crowd; here, she could have a career and make a good name for herself. Away from the dark stigma of the LAPD.
By Angela Mabry3 years ago in Fiction
Charlemagne's Game
A cold current wakes me. I slowly open one eye to see who disturbed the water. Just an angel fish looking for food. I open the other and adjust myself to match the coral I’m leaning on. I haven’t seen any sharks since I was put in this tank, but I know better than not to expect one. That’s what I learned when I was little and lived on the reef.
By Georges-Henri Daigle3 years ago in Fiction
Dreaming in a Sea of Colour
Iggy knew something was different when the Big Lady opened the door. She always carried a shiny pail filled to the brim with silver fish. Iggy and his colony would rush her whenever she entered. Marlin and Spike were usually there first. Being the biggest penguins in the group, they would muscle their way to the front and take their time choosing from the pail. Everyone else had to wait their turn before they could eat their fill. Iggy was the smallest member of the colony and often had to wait the longest. The Big Lady seemed to know that though. When Iggy would get his turn at the pail and see it almost empty, she would give him a nice, juicy piece just for him.
By Loryne Andawey3 years ago in Fiction
A Risk Worth Taking
I’ve always considered myself an adventurous learner. The nagging need deep inside me for knowledge and to learn more about the world around me has always been strong. The word strong may be an understatement actually. The hunger to learn inside me is incredibly ravenous and vengeful like a starving shark. In my youth, I was constantly lectured about how curiosity was dangerous and straying too far off the path can get you killed. I listened to these lectures intently, then would ardently disagree. I was always the first to ask more questions and would often stump my teachers to the point of frustration. My family would tell me I was being too nosey and needed to stay in my lane. I was told I was aloof and needed to appreciate the present moment more. I was never content with the present moment though, and was definitely not content to follow along with what I was being told.
By Alexis Avery3 years ago in Fiction
Mystery equals change
Mystery equals change. Saved by patience. The day started just as so many others but ended rather differently from anything I have experienced in the last few of my eighty years on this planet. I was woken by the light, did my stretches and all usual routine tasks, finally settling in front of my laptop, coffee gently steaming near my right hand. All so reassuringly similar to so many other days for the last year or so. The first indication that this was not going to be a normal day, came when my golden retriever, “Goldy”; originality was never my strongest asset; got up from her usual position by my feet and wandered to the front door. This made me sit up and listen intently. I heard the faintest of thumps, Goldy heard much more and started to bark. I hurried to the front door, but nothing disturbed the view from inside, no dark outline of a visitor’s presence clouded the frosted glass panels. Goldy still insisted something was amiss and refused to leave the doorway. I opened the door to show Goldy all was clear. She rushed out swerved to her left and sat, triumphantly, beside a package. A brown paper covered package. It was addressed to me in bold bright red marker pen handwriting. It was not heavy, less than a kilo, I guessed. No return address, no delivery carriers’ markings, no signature had been asked for. The first thing that puzzled me, was how had this arrived by my door, without setting off the gate and fencing alarms. I did a quick scan of the surroundings and just caught a glimpse of a small flying machine disappearing over the horizon, a drone. Someone knew how to invade my privacy, that was disturbing by itself, but that the person also knew the name I was using, and my present address was far more of a concern. I carefully examined the package without moving it, nothing alarming to see but that did not mean all was good. I warned Goldy not to touch and went to my workshop and found a thin sheet of plywood. The package was a cube twenty-five centimetres on every dimension. The outer wrapping was brown paper sealed with clear sticky tape. I stood an occasional table beside it. Since it was sitting on grass, I was able to slide my sheet of ply under it without disturbing it, and lifted with great care, ensuring that I did not tilt it in any direction, put it onto the table. So far so good, I carried the table and package round to the back of my detached house and into my workshop, lifted ply and package onto a turntable placed on the work bench and slowly turned the whole thing round for more detailed examination. I used a scalpel to slice open the layer of brown paper from the top of the mystery box, lifted the part with my address, clear and checked the underside of this. It was thick paper, far thicker than normal wrapping stuff. I do not have chemical analysis facilities here so just had to press on. I used a stethoscope to listen for any sign of anything, but all was silent. Only fools rush into the unknown, so I made myself more coffee and drank this while thinking about how this strange box had arrived and who could have known where to find me. The result of my contemplation was not encouraging, those friends who knew enough, would have used my burner phone to warn me of its arrival; this only leaves enemies, none these were supposed to know how to reach me. Any clue had to be in the package or its covering.
By Peter Rose3 years ago in Fiction
Eli's Project
The shadows of a building are helpful when you are trying to hide, and tonight, the moving shadow of the young woman was very concerned about sticking to the darkness. Sarha slunk along, carefully avoiding the large circles of light underneath the parking lot poles. Moving as fast as she dared through the damp puddles, with the outer wall of the building at her back, her golden eyes were darting to and fro, scanning in front, behind, and all around her. Where WAS he?? She HAD to get off this Dock and away from the Port. She had to find the Greyhound station to get her to Vegas. But she had no idea where she was concerning the gate, entrance, or any other way out. She should never have come here. She should have just saved up the extra money and flown into Vegas Airport like any other normal person. But she had thought it might be fun to travel a bit. To see Los Angeles before going north to Nevada. LOTS of college-age people, all over the world, backpack, hike, travel by bus, or hitchhike. And when she found out that passage on the ship was ½ the price of airfare, well, it made the decision very simple. But, "Hindsight is 20/20" and all that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. That was a Fomorian at the Ship. She knew it. As soon as they made eye contact, she SAW him and she was certain that he SAW her. He had screwed up everything. But why and how could a Fomorian be in this place, escorting the passengers off the ship, in the transport van? This was supposed to be a secure place of safe passage. What was supposed to be the adventure of a lifetime had just become way too adventurous.
By Angela Mabry3 years ago in Fiction
