MONKEYMAGIC SAID:
In the beginning
Penelope Skye was 6 years old when she decided she wanted to be a cowboy. “Whoops” and “Yee-haas” were heard around the house from under a giant Stetson which once belonged to her uncle John ‘Tex’ Skye.
When she turned 7 however, Penelope Skye wanted to be an air hostess. She liked the white gloves and matching hat. Much more sophisticated than a cowboy, William her best friend in the world said. Visitors to the Skye family home were handed a “drink with their meal” and shown the emergency exits on a number of occasions.
At the grand old age of 8 Penelope Skye knew that her true calling was to be a deep sea diver. Wearing an ancient diving helmet once belonging to her mother’s cousin Robert (the one who was in the navy for an all too brief time before “the incident” in 1947) she would clomp slowly around the house careful not to bump into furniture, her breathing muffled and sounding not dissimilar to Darth Vader.
Aged 9, Penelope Skye swapped her helmet for a long beige mackintosh of her Father’s (sleeves rolled up at the elbows several times over), a pair of her sister’s sunglasses, an old briefcase found in the attic and a hat of her granddad George’s. Thus disguised, Penelope Skye became a Secret Agent.
This latest profession lasted longer than the deep sea diver, not quite as long as the air hostess and around the same duration as the cowboy, but something about it didn’t quite feel right. Almost like she was on the right track but running the wrong way. After discussing it with William her best friend in the world she knew exactly what it was she wanted to be.
02 September 2007 04:01
Friday, 28 September 2007
Monday, 24 September 2007
In A Perfect World - Here Could Be The News Headlines
With the sending of European satellites to the moon, comes the subsequent revelation that none of the abandoned space vehicles supposedly left by NASA on the surface after their craft had departed in the 60’s can be found. In light of this, the government of the U.S.A. has had to admit publicly that the moon landings never took place and were filmed in mock-up studio at area 51. The ‘misplacing' of the original film footage by NASA is also cited as a reason for the admission after many years of denial. Conspiracy theorists were 'very pleased', though not surprised’ by the news.
Thursday, 20 September 2007
The Forum - crime/thriller - add the next paragraph, lets produce the first multi-author on-line novel!
They walked slowly on the balls of their feet. They didnt want to attract attention or alert the target. The two of them had been waiting on the upper floor all day for her return, and they had had nowhere to sit. They were fighting boredom and fatigue but like the professionals they were, they had patiently awaited the sound of the footsteps they now heard moving along the hallway outside the target's apartment.
A big part of their job was playing the waiting game and they were very, very good at what they did.
The closing of the door and the lock clicking into place was their signal. They quickened their pace, moving lightly and effeciently as they descended the staircase.
It almost felt like an anticlimax after the long wait.
The first and larger of the two guys threw his shoulder against the door. He was built like rugby playing baboon. He appeared to have no neck because his ears lobes seemed to be attached to his shoulders, which gave the overall impression that his knuckles would scrape on the ground as he walked. The door collapsed like a felled tree, almost immediately. The second guy walked straight in behind his partner - his gun drawn, complete with silencer, and put a small hole straight through the centre of the targets forehead. She still had unspoken words of surprise and outrage forming on her lips as she fell. The shooter then put another round into her chest, more for pleasure than as a safety measure and they both turned and walked out smiling as they went, a job well done.
8 seconds max, death to getaway.
They walked casually back to their patrol car, got in and drove away.
It was only the briefest of starts to a war.
A big part of their job was playing the waiting game and they were very, very good at what they did.
The closing of the door and the lock clicking into place was their signal. They quickened their pace, moving lightly and effeciently as they descended the staircase.
It almost felt like an anticlimax after the long wait.
The first and larger of the two guys threw his shoulder against the door. He was built like rugby playing baboon. He appeared to have no neck because his ears lobes seemed to be attached to his shoulders, which gave the overall impression that his knuckles would scrape on the ground as he walked. The door collapsed like a felled tree, almost immediately. The second guy walked straight in behind his partner - his gun drawn, complete with silencer, and put a small hole straight through the centre of the targets forehead. She still had unspoken words of surprise and outrage forming on her lips as she fell. The shooter then put another round into her chest, more for pleasure than as a safety measure and they both turned and walked out smiling as they went, a job well done.
8 seconds max, death to getaway.
They walked casually back to their patrol car, got in and drove away.
It was only the briefest of starts to a war.
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