Jerichi

"You're... what?" I ask, mouth agape. Lurching over, you sob. Long Slow. Words dissolve And we say more Without a sound Then we ever have before For a moment I look away On the wall I write my fears My eyes scrape off the paint You murmur, quiverring begging me not to go. I turn to you, and swing an arm about your hunched shoulders a hand running down your sweetly stained face. I hold you tight And keep you near And dry your tears As a Scythe hangs Over our front door.

Matt starred down at the motionless body of the criminal, his head seeping blood from his recent blunt weapon injury. Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he tilted his head, turning to see the stunned expression frozen on the KO'd man's face. As he pushed back the long tail of his trenchcoat, he bent down to better inspect the wound. With a bit of a confused and critical expression, he eyed his partner quizzically. "Must you pistol-whip everyone?" "Only the ones who are about to get away." Leon replied, replacing the bloodied gun into its holster, putting his sunglasses back on to hide his eyes and sharp cheekbones. "Now, help me drag him to t

Cultural sensitivity is something to which we, as Americans, are somewhat ignorant. Not all French are snotty, wine-sipping, baguette toting girly-men with their noses so high in the air that you could perform a full sinus exam from twenty yards away. Not all British wear monocles and top hats and carry around canes and will invite you over to their flat for some tea and scones. And, believe it or not, not all Spanish-speakers are Mexicans. I know, it's hard to believe, but there's actually a whole country called "Spain" where the people speak Spanish and are nothing like Mexicans. Most Americans would be astounded by this revelation, I'm su

Paul glanced out the foggy car window, staring at the graying sky. A jet skimmed the gloomy cover, slowly melting into the puffy, dingy sea. “Looks like it's gonna rain.” Dave commented. “Yeah.” Paul responded dryly, not really paying attention to his friend's observation. Dave's rather neutral expression sank a little, eyes briefly catching a glimpse of Paul. Suddenly, Paul lit up a bit, shifting from his slouch. “Hey, can you turn down this street? I wanna check something out.” Paul requested hastily, pointing towards a street sign. “Uh, sure,” Dave replied, not questioning his friend's motives

“Sir.” Another swift volley of raps came at the hotel room's metallic door. “Sir, eight minutes.” called Jack's secretary. Jack didn't respond, let alone move. He continued to sit on the edge of the bed, half dressed, head in his hands. The door in the next room clicked open, and the hard clack of shoes on the marble tiles outside signaled the entrance of Saul, longtime friend and assistant. The man turned the corner, peering into Jack's room, frowning slightly as he looked in. His usually low lids sank even further over his deep brown eyes as he entered, and he fell upon the bed next to Jack, his heavy frame causing th

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Dave.” Paul said, chucking his bag onto the couch. “No prob, buddy.” the burly man responded, indiscriminately chucking his keys and baseball cap onto the kitchenette counter, “Sorry about the mess. Girlfriend hasn't been around to keep after it.” Paul raised an eyebrow, examining the small apartment, shirts, pants, and miscellaneous empty containers strewn about the room. “Didn't your mother teach you anything?” Paul asked. Dave shrugged. “I guess she just never really gave a shit about that stuff.” Paul simply gave his friend a “whatever” look

“God, where are you off to this time?” Paul inquired, tone edgy. “Spain. We got a multi-billion dollar deal brewing over there and they really want me to be there in person to seal the deal.” Jack explained, trying his best to neatly stuff his shirts into a suitcase. “What is this, the third time this month?” Paul continued. “Yeah, something like that.” Jack responded idly, making his way back to the closet. “You can't keep leaving like this, Jack.” Paul implored. “It's not like I can say no to these guys when I have half the company's budget riding on this contract.” Jack repli

“Would you take those damn sunglasses off?” Paul snapped.   As the two of them walked up to the quaint suburban house, Jack shot Paul a bit of a surprised look over the frames.   “What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Jack joked, removing the shades.   Paul sighed, habitually tugging at his shirt cuffs. He shortly shifted the collar of the stiff blue shirt, clearly uncomfortable in such starchy attire.   “I don’t see what you have against button-down shirts.” Jack commented, sporting the same black suit and red tie to which he was accustomed.   “That’s saying