Zlaw's Echo

Comme tout parent, Aleksander n'a pas le loisir de ne pouvoir se soucier que d'un seul de ses enfants en même temps. Il n'a donc pas oublié son rendez-vous hebdomadaire avec le Docteur Conway. Il essaye d'être optimiste et espère que la session va un peu lui remonter le moral, sinon au moins le distraire de son anxiété au sort de son frère, de sa fille, du meilleur ami de son fils et de la jeune fille dans la machine qu'il a protégés et entraînés ces derniers mois, ainsi que de tous les gens qui ont accepté de l'aider à réunir sa famille, mais la lutte est dure. Il sait que sa participation active à l'opération n'aurait été d'aucune aide, voire aurait carrément pu attirer l'attention du Docteur Vurt, mais il déteste tout de même se sentir aussi impuissant. On pourrait pourtant penser qu'il se serait habitué à ce sentiment, à force de se voir dépasser par les événements encore et encore… — Kennedy. Bonjour, il salue la psychiatre en entrant d...

"All you have to do is get to that ridge. Past that point, you'll be safe." His aunt's words – among the last ones he would ever hear from her – were echoing in his mind as he walked. At first, it had seemed like a reasonable target, but now that he had been alone in the wilderness for a few days, he was not so convinced anymore. Surely he did not need to go that far to lose his pursuers? Surely they wouldn't go to such lengths just to catch him? Maybe he could stop now, and he would still be all right? When he had been looking at it from the village, the ridge did not look so remote, but now, even though he had been steadily going towards it since he'd left, it felt out of reach. Other strong arguments against his caretaker's advice were bouncing around in his head: why that ridge in particular? What made it so special that, upon reaching it, he would be out of harm's way? How ridiculous of a reference point was it? Besides, if the people chasing ...

It was pouring outside, and I hadn't seen any pedestrian in hours when a little lady came out of nowhere and into my cab. She startled me when she opened the door. It slammed behind her as she sprawled herself across the back seats, drenched, hugging herself. She only uttered one word: "Drive." I chuckled. Although I'd heard that line many times in cheesy movies, in all my years as a cabbie, I'd never had anyone say it to me for real. "This isn't a romantic comedy, Miss; I need an address." "How about now? Still need an address?" There was an unexpected metallic click as she straightened up. I frowned and looked at her more closely through the rear-view mirror, only to see her still holding her right side with her left hand, but aiming the barrel of a pistol at the back of my neck with the other. To be fair, I had never had a gun pointed at my head before. I had never had a gun pointed at me at all. I don't think I had ever even ...

Dear Diary, I hope you don't mind that I call you "Dear" even though we've just become acquainted; I simply didn't know what else to open with. This is my first time holding a journal, after all. The suggestion to start one came from my therapists. They have it in their head that documenting what goes through my head day to day could maybe help me make progress. What they would consider progress, I do not know for sure. I am not as enthusiastic as they are at the prospect, but since I'm locked up in here without much else to do, I suppose I can afford to give it a go. If I'm being honest, it feels a little nice to have something to call "Dear". Scary, too. Because it means I have something to lose. I guess I should avoid writing too many important things within your pages, this way, I should be all right even in the event that you are taken or destroyed. I know you're not going to ask – if only because you cannot ask, since you're an...

How long have they been wandering aimlessly in this dark forest for, now? Days? A week, maybe? Like they have lost track of time, they have lost count of all the swampy areas they have crossed, but their boots heavy with mud keep reminding them that the number is probably quite high. Their clothes are torn and stained with sap from all the branches they keep getting caught on, to the point where they are starting to get a little too cold for comfort when night comes. As for their skin, constantly brushing against harsh tree bark and incessantly tripping over roots and rocks makes it bruised and bloodied all over. They have twigs and leaves in their hair. Overall, it is hardly a cosy situation for any of them. What even happened, for them to get so desperately lost? They weren't looking for trouble. They are all experimented hikers and campers, with equipment in good condition; they checked it before they left. And these woods are fully mapped. There wasn't supposed to be any...

Des cinq groupes formés à partir de l'équipe de onze (en comptant Sing Sing), trois savaient qu'ils quitteraient la cage d'ascenseur avec un risque de croiser âme qui vive. Jena comme le chien sont tranquilles dans leurs conduits respectifs, et Sieg et Ben se trouvent à l'étage des stocks, dont ils doivent assurer la stabilité en cas de dérapage, mais où les chances de tomber sur quelqu'un sont proches de zéro. Au rez-de-chaussée, Andy se fie à son ouïe fine pour entraîner Sam à sa suite dès que la voie est libre, jusqu'au premier bureau inoccupé qu'ils trouvent. La porte est fermée par un verrou biométrique, mais ce n'est apparemment rien que l'alien ne puisse pas circonvenir sans sourciller. Elle place sa main sur le capteur comme si elle travaillait ici depuis des années, et les battants coulissent sans autre forme de procès. Une fois à l'intérieur, elle laisse Caroline et Robert connecter l'inspecteur à une surface afin qu'il ait acc...

This is the story of a magical guidebook, that could take you to any place you pointed to on its pages. The Guidebook started out as a simple travel journal, for a young woman who was not aware of her abilities. A true wanderer, she took trip after trip, carefully documenting every step in her diary, at first not realising every single picture she glued in there became a portal to the location where the photograph had been taken. By the time she did understand what she had done, there were already many pages filled with images of places far and wide around the world! The first time she experienced the magic of what she had created, she was lucky not to end up somewhere too cold or too hot for what she was wearing. Thinking she was hallucinating, she stayed put until, twenty-four hours later, the Guidebook brought her back to her room, where she had been when she had touched it. It laid exactly where it had been then, too. After that, she did not dare to open it for a while. But it ...

Andrew regains consciousness with a banging headache, his face flat on his dashboard. He winces in pain as he straightens up, which pulls on a cut on his forehead. He reaches for it reflexively, but the blood has already dried. He then looks around his cockpit, where every single equipment appears to have taken heavy damage, and swears under his breath. The hull must be intact, at least, or he would be dead. He looks out the window and cannot see any point of reference, only distant stars that are just as likely to be familiar as they are to be unknown, from this far. He manages to pull up a radar image, for a 360° view, but that is no help. So, he goes for the radio: "HQ? Anyone copy?" " Five by five, Captain McCarthy, " answers a mechanical voice. "Can you tell me where I am?" " Your ship's navigation system appears to be offline. " "Yeah, I can see that; that's why I was hoping you could help me out." " I am sorry...

"What do you see?" "Not much. Birds, boats… Is that a dolphin?" "What kind of boats?" "I don't know. Small ones. Maybe for fishing. Not the type that could be a threat to us. Obviously…" Clearly, he WOULD say something if he was seeing anything of interest. His sister knows that, doesn't she? "It's been days." "I am aware; I've been right here waiting alongside you." "They should have been back, by now." "Well, they're not." Lowering his hand from his brow, where it was shielding his eyes from the Sun, Reyld tears his gaze away from the line where the sky meets the ocean, far ahead. It doesn't really matter whether he is staring or not. That's not going to make his other sisters come back faster. They'll get here whether or not there is anyone waiting for them. He was just doing it out of habit. "What are we going to do if they don't come back?" ...

What are the odds? Seriously, what are the chances that you'll actually get the expected result, here? Infinitesimal, at best, and that's being generous. What you're planning is basically impossible. Do you have the slightest idea the number of stars that will need to align for this to work? You will literally need to control the elements at some points. I'm talking elements like the weather, which includes wind speed, atmospheric pressure, precipitation, temperature, the works. There's also timing, in terms of time of day, time of year, actual year. Down to the nanosecond in some cases. Then there is the amount of skill required from all concerned parties. Parties which will need to meet in the first place. And agree, or at least independently come to the same conclusion. The variables are endless! And as if this weren't bad enough, luck is a component, too. You need both hard-earned expertise AND sheer good fortune for this to come to fruition, not just eithe...

Iz entre dans la salle de pause de son commissariat de rattachement, officieusement son quartier général, en pensant et espérant pouvoir y être un peu seule. Elle est trop préoccupée par son inquiétude pour Sam pour arriver à travailler convenablement cet après-midi. À sa plus grande surprise, elle trouve cependant Fred dans la petite pièce commune. Sur la pointe des pieds, la jeune inspectrice est en train de fouiller dans les placards, vraisemblablement en quête d'une tasse et de café. La brunette la regarde s'escrimer un moment, accueillant la distraction de ce spectacle cocasse à bras ouverts, avant de l'interpeller gentiment : — Tu sais que je vous amène du café à vos bureaux, non ? elle interroge. Sa question manque de faire perdre l'équilibre à la blonde décolorée ; elle ne l'avait pas entendue entrer. La plus jeune ne se départit cependant pas son aplomb, même alors qu'elle vient plus ou moins d'être prise en flagrant délit d'intrusion. — C...

A couple is sitting on a park bench at night-time. They picked a spot away from the lampposts placed along the path so they could canoodle in peace, but at one point the man does break from the embrace to question his paramour: "Are you hungry?" he asks as he tucks a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "I could eat," she answers with a shrug. "What do you feel like?" She laughs a tinkling laugh. "Wouldn't it be typically feminine of me not to know what I want for dinner?" "Playing into clichés has never suited you." As he looks away, straightening the seam of his jacket on his thigh, playing bored, she rolls her eyes. "How about Indian?" she offers. "Indian? Why don't you suggest Mexican, while you're at it? At this time of night, in this part of town, fat chance of coming across something like that." "Korean?" "You might as well say Japanese. We could maybe work with Chine...

There is loneliness in running away. Or maybe it's just when you sincerely wish you didn't have to, when you're not running either from something or to something else, but you're just being told to go, without any particular reason that you can see, and if it were up to you, you would be content staying where you are without any change in circumstances. I have lost count of how many places I've been chased out of. I don't even remember where I'm from originally, and of course, there isn't anyone to remind me. As cruel as that sounds, I've come to envy displaced populations, because at last they have each other. They can hang on to the idea that home is more the people than it is the place. I happen to think it's probably a little bit of both, so losing one is just as bad as losing the other, but do I even have a frame of reference to make such a claim? Before you ask, no, I do not know why nobody has ever wanted me anywhere near them. As far a...

She was always like the Sun to me. From the very first time I saw her, I was mesmerised. I had to look away, not to stare, but I wished I didn't need to adhere to such pedestrian rules of conduct. That's how bright she was to me, in every sense of the word. She was as beautiful and caring as she was smart, radiating goodness from inside and out, a beacon of hope in an otherwise suddenly bland landscape. She was this perfect flame no one could possibly hold a candle to, seemed to have that fire in her heart nothing could ever put out. From that moment on, everything I did pretty much revolved around her. Every friend I had had, every hobby I had catered to so far was put aside, not completely forgotten but relegated to the back of my mind, eclipsed by the discovery of her glorious existence and an imperious craving to reach out to her, without knowing how. And maybe, somewhere deep down, knowing it would never be possible. She was the centre of my planetary system, impossibl...