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“Sometimes I wish there was just you and me and no one else in the whole world"
- Callum”
― Noughts & Crosses
- Callum”
― Noughts & Crosses
“Are you really a reporter?” asked Brown.
“You already asked me that. Come back to Levita, take the pardon.”
“I doubt I’ll live long enough to get there,” said Brown bitterly.
“I hope you survive. You are a fighter. And we have the antidote for your habit on
Levita. I suggest you take a vacation. There’s nothing much that’s going to happen here.”
With that she left, leaving Brown more confused than ever.
He was a father, he had a son. And, the Levitians had a cure for his drug-addled body.”
― The Arbitrator
― The Arbitrator
“Immediately after that fate-filled evening in May, the phone booth in its entirety had been confiscated by the Homicide Unit as embodying significant criminal evidence of murder. More accurately, though, the booth was like an envelope encapsulating the entire crime scene, including splattered skull fragments.”
― Macom Farm
― Macom Farm
“Caderyn sure doesn’t beat around the seaweed!”
― True Teryn
― True Teryn
“Julia, hanging back, says, ‘How have you been, Stephen?’
I want to tell her everything. I want to find out what she’s been doing, what she plans to do but, at this fated moment, a vision of my stomach floats before me. It is a soggy marsh, green rushes growing round the edges, gas bubbles surfacing all over and bursting. The bubbling of the marsh is set to the music of creation, the percussive glottal stops of the Big Bang. I realize I have, at best, one complete sentence left in me. ‘Julia,’ I begin, composing in my head a deranged paean of love that I can never utter. ‘I regret that I am not myself today. Terry has poisoned me.’
‘You should go home,’ she says.”
― Karna's Wheel
I want to tell her everything. I want to find out what she’s been doing, what she plans to do but, at this fated moment, a vision of my stomach floats before me. It is a soggy marsh, green rushes growing round the edges, gas bubbles surfacing all over and bursting. The bubbling of the marsh is set to the music of creation, the percussive glottal stops of the Big Bang. I realize I have, at best, one complete sentence left in me. ‘Julia,’ I begin, composing in my head a deranged paean of love that I can never utter. ‘I regret that I am not myself today. Terry has poisoned me.’
‘You should go home,’ she says.”
― Karna's Wheel
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