“Go on, do it.”“I don't want to.”“But think of it. Think what could happen if you do...”A long pause and then,“No! It's too risky!”“Isn't it worth taking a chance? Look at what you could have...”“But this could be enough.”“It could be but, on the other hand, what if it isn't?”“Hmmm...”“Go on, just one more. Just one little one.”“Damn it! All right! I'll do it!”“Blast it, Twenty-two! I knew I shouldn't have listened to you...
His finger hovered over the enter key. The cursor blinked. Flash. Flash. Rhythmic. Soothing. Calmly urging. His finger flitted upwards and pressed down. The line of text disappeared. He typed again. Thoughts flowed down his arms to his fingers, to the keys, to the screen. After brief and fervent animation he paused, still as a statue. Flash. Flash. He blinked. The cursor blinked back. "Decide," it blinked. Indecision tore...
Hi.. Doc Johnson in the house.. pull up a chair.. take a deep breath.. and listen.. I’m talking to you. You know who you are. Yeah, YOU! What the hell did you think would happen when you consistently plan your private quiet time so that you can log onto a chat site? Did you think you were safe hiding behind a keyboard? That your fears and unhappiness and emotions wouldn't be sitting there with you? That you would simply c...
the day fades anewhigh moments and banalities recedeevening hours set inthat familiar sharp pain againsadness rulessimple and intense:I adore you,miss you,want youyet you distance,stay away,detach,evadecommitment?I...merely covet your breathnext to mineperhaps, just perhaps,a little while longer.
If I write a story should it just be for me? Stored on a harddrive for no one to see? Called up and read by tapping some keys? Just another hidden file is all it will be. My friends said be brave I really should post. There are plenty of sites willing to host. Is my stuff good enough? Maybe? Almost? It’s better I think I stay just a ghost. I write for myself and the few friends I trust. Sometimes they’re good but more oft...
