On Pretending to be Evil
Distant Silence is a bad, bad man. And so are his friends.
Panic
Marx pounded his palmtop with his fist, sending it rattling across his desk. The device slid to a stop, and he stared at it hatefully. Completely unharmned. The palmtop was military-issue, designed to hold together in heavy combat. He couldn’t break it.
How I Met Her
Two years ago today, I met a cute little Italian girl at a church event.
Reinforcements
“Milord, I am bound to protect milady. I must get her safely to the telepad and off of this colony.”
excerpt from recovered journal
They must have been smuggling in weapons for months. Weapons and people. I still don’t know how they did it.
Tactics
The sound of explosions reached them just as the separatist stirred.
Target
231 pretended to look down at Sophia, and sneaked a glance behind them. The man was gaining on them.
Scream at the Devil
Don’t get me wrong. There are some contemporary worship songs I genuinely love.
The First Noel, 2010
The Hanukkah travel rush was over, and Bethlehem was quiet again. Hence, the corner where Ben Simon worked the graveyard shift hadn’t seen a car pass in ten minutes. He looked up from his English textbook and peered across the street, to the small booth where his friend Isaiah worked. They had both gotten late-night jobs at gas stations at about the same time, and frequently used faux company loyalty as an excuse to pick on each other. Diagonally across the intersection from Ben was a third gas station manned by Mordecai Steinberg. While Ben and Isaiah had the occasional squeegee fight in the middle of the empty road, Mo usually stuck to his booth dutifully, reading the Torah.
Start 'em Early
