Treat this as a writing prompt and I'm not that good at grammar I would like to apologize The synopsis and the title tell just about all you need to know about what you should expect I'm hopefully going to create a world since I technically just created the Multiverse each individual world will be created by you guys or myself I'm not going to really censor...
"Where the devil have you been!?" Henry was disheveled and antic when she breezed into the laboratory, a contemplative smile disappearing from her lips at his tone. "Out," she said, simply. "I met a boy." "A--." Henry blinked. "What do you mean? You don't mean to tell me that you went out and..." "I did. But I didn't meet the boy, well, officially, I supp...
Daisy opened her eyes at the sound of her land lord's footsteps and raised her sunglasses up over her fore head. "Hey Mr. Higgins what's shakin," She said. The fifty-six year old halted a few feet away from her lounge chair and smiled politely. "Hello Daisy," He said. "I've got to talk to you about something." Daisy took a breath and exhaled. Mr. Higgins...
It was always the same. Friday lunchtime in the pub, just prior to putting the final touches to my weekly column and handing in my 'copy' to our beleaguered editor, Tom Bowler; I would hold court to my now regular gathering - a group of university students who knocked off early for the weekend on Fridays. They sat all around me at the big old wooden table in...
It was a wonderful summer day and he loathed the fact that he was once again spending it in the lab. Higgins turned back to the computer console and ran his fingers over the screen watching the algorithms dance across at high speed. He sighed. The synapses were still not firing fast enough. "Eliza!" The algorithms faded into the background on the monitor a...
Hello. I want to tell you a story. I swear to you it's all perfectly true, which of course is a promise that means absolutely nothing coming from a fictional character like me. Yes, that's right, I'm fictional. My name is Henry. Henry Higgins. I was created by my Author, Sub Joe. Joe himself is, of course a nom de plume, so he in a way, is fictional too. No...
Part 1: The Afternoon of the Nymphs From the doorway he could see them: two slightly-built girls, young and lightly clad in tee shirts and jeans, huddled together on the crushed velvet sofa that dominated the sunken living room. The blonde, Pickering judged to be in her early twenties; her companion even younger, maybe eighteen or nineteen. They had that fr...
"Could you come here, Jason? I'd like to talk to you about something." "Of course, Mrs. Higgins," I replied. Mrs. Higgins was our next-door neighbour. She and her husband had moved about three months earlier into the bungalow next to that in which my parents were driving me nuts. As a healthy 18-year-old, I craved for nothing but sex. But my straight-laced...
"Boomer Five-oh-five, this is Two-nine Bravo," Colonel Tom Courville said into his mic, calling the lead F-35 as each approached Joint Base Pearl Harbor. "Five-oh-five, go." "We're only getting some low level VHF, commercial chatter. Nothing on UHF or Z-band, no VOR/TAC. We've got three very low level search radars targeted, but no long range stuff. You pi...
Mikey Franchetti felt like had just won the lottery, dodged a bullet, and been struck by lightning all in the same day. He was sitting in the back of a brand new Cadillac Coupe, series 62, riding through the Los Angeles night towards the Sunset Strip. The suit he was wearing felt just like a second skin, which shouldn't be surprising - it was brand new and t...