Drys

Drake "Come again?" I asked Dianna as we lay on my bed.  I decided we needed to go over everything we knew before we talked to the others.  Hell, we needed to know everything before going to them, so we went over Fate's documents. < They're in Latin, > Dianna reiterated.  < One of the older dialects at that. > "Why does this sound all too familiar?" I muttered.  I am sure Dianna heard me, but she chose to ignore it. < I had trouble translating them at first, > she continued.  < The documents themselves seem to be scientific reports; most likely from the facility. > "Great, so we're either working for the scientists or someone who hacked

Kayla I left the table in a hurry.  Not because I was embarrassed.  I mean, I was embarrassed, but I was also mad.  Mad at Joan for prying.  Mad at Kat for her assumption.  Mad at Drake just 'cause he was there.  But most of all, I was upset about how I'd acted.  I didn't blow up at things like this; I smiled and pushed the subject somewhere else.  I was slipping.  Still, I was mad and I wasn't about to go back like that. I headed for the bathroom, which was conveniently placed between the double doors at the entrance.  I got to the door, grabbed the handle and looked over my shoulder to see if I had been followed.  When I was sure I hadn't

Dianna When the kidnap program had grabbed Drake, I lost all contact with his body and consciousness.  One minute and twenty-three seconds after that, a digital gateway opened in the middle of the room, followed by a sound file.  "-ou me-n?" was all it said.  Though distorted, I could still tell it was Drake.  I waited a bit for him to come though.  When he didn't I tried going in. At first I felt a familiar tugging at the fringes of my coding; it was as if I were heading into the Internet.  After I was a tenth of the way through, though, I started to scramble and degrade. Program degradation would probably be considered as akin to an electr

Drake cont... Kayla and Joan never showed back up at the restaurant.  Since I knew what Kayla liked to do when she was upset, I was not too worried about it.  We ate, and, after I convinced the others to leave, asked for a doggy bag for Kayla and Joan's meals.  Back at the house, Dianna and I engaged in a little game of virtual slaughter. "Three minutes remain."  The announcement rang through my head as I ran through some purple coolant that was slowly falling to the ground.  I neared the end of the icy corridor and slowed.  I looked around the corner, but could not see much in the dim light.  I turned my head to look the other way and was g

Drake I walked down the hallway as silently as possible.  Luckily for me the door I wanted was open and I could see inside.  I had already surmised that the interior decorator was insane, but this took the cake.  The room was the same color blue as the rest of the house. A window took up most of the wall on the opposite side of the door.  Long fake-silk curtains moved slowing in the breeze coming from the open window. The bed sat in between the far wall and me.  A set of lavender sheets sat neatly folded on top of that. Next to the bed was a nightstand made out of the darkest oak I had ever seen.  Well, I would have mistaken it for oak if I

Slick After leaving the reception area we were guided to dressing rooms.  Mine was small, yet comfortable.  A folding chair in the upper-right-hand corner furnished it, and a full-sized mirror was mounted on the door My outfit was stacked on top of the chair. The clothing had been organized proficiently, as was to be expected from CDAR.  A pair of boxers lay on top, followed by blue jeans and a t-shirt.  A pair of shoes sat under the chair. I stripped out of my 'uniform,' and started to dress.  I was about to put on the shirt when I noticed something wrong.  It wasn't the way the sleeves had been ripped off of the shirt.  It wasn't the way

Katrina Vogel A stretcher rolled past the one-way window.  I could hear the wheels squeak, though the sound was muffled.  I sat in the corner of my cell, pretending to be asleep while it went past.  I sat, not watching, yet seeing. The vibrations of sound echoed off objects and into my ears, painting a picture in my mind.  The image was slightly blurred because of the soundproofing that had been applied to the cells.  Two people, two 'normals', held onto the ends of the mobile hospital bed and guided it down the hall.  They carried on the usual conversation.  "What created these freaks," "are they human," "will we have to set them loose on

I am a puppet of life, My strings are pulled this way and that, My body moves with each tug of a cord, I have no control over any of it. My arms play an instrument that I can never see, My legs dance a jig I can never learn, My mouth sings a song I can never hear, My heart beats with feelings that I can never know. The puppeteer sets me aside when he is done, And he pulls out the next, Yet he puts me back in the show, Always before the night is done. While he is away I have control, I have thought, sensation. I can feel, sing, dance, I can move by will alone. I'm on stage my final time, I cut my strings and I'm free, The cro

I drown in regret as I remember actions taken; Opportunities avoided. I sit alone. I am completely alone. Alone, confused, annoyed… Social outcast, demented cur, retched being Many and all belong to me. Offers of help fall on deaf ears, Thoughts of hope fade away, For there is no desire to live today.

People think that I am insane, People think that I am mad. When did people's thought matter to me; When did I care for them so much? People cannot see the lies in front of their faces, People cannot see the hurt in their eyes. People ignore one another; Yet I feel for them inside. When did people stop caring? When did I become the only one? How do I stop this madness? How can I cure everyone? I feel like I am floating on a cloud of doom; A cloud made of everyone's darkest thoughts. When did the darkness become larger? When did darkness overtake the light? I feel pity for the human race, I feel sorrow for the world. I feel sa