A Better Life

The Lonely Author


A Better Life

A flash of light introduced a thunder clap.

Rising to his feet, he found himself in the janitor’s supply room; two floors above his intended location.

Every second counted. Jack burst out of the closet, dashing into the nearest stairwell. He only had one chance to prevent this horror. If he didn’t stop it now, the moment could never be undone.

Tripping over his feet, he tumbled down the stairs, smacking into the hard concrete wall. Head spinning like a carousel, he wobbled to his feet. Bolts of pain streaked down his leg.

His desperate eyes glanced at the time.

Stumbling away, he ignored the burning currents that tormented him.

Was he too late?

He limped onto the second floor. Seventy feet separated him from his destination.

He didn’t want her to be scarred forever.

Ignoring an out of service sign, Jack hurled himself at the bathroom…

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My Youngest And Prettiest Self

I Ruin Joy

My Youngest And Prettiest SelfFunny, when I look at someone, I establish three things immediately. Their age, their weight and their social status. I don’t judge them or care, I’m noticing them because I may want to be friends, or put a hammer in their skull. Samesies.

It’s not optional, and I’m not always right.

Well, today I called someone old and ugly, they are several years younger than me. (Nice!!) Does that make me older and uglier? (In my defense, we were researching murderers at the time.)

I do find when I meet people and become friends with them, that initial impression is the one I carry with me. Their youngest and best-looking selves. They can try and tell me they are twenty years older, but to me, they are still that kid from the complex.

I hope that when people look at me, they have the same problem. I want them to see…

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