It was a Thursday, around one thirty in the afternoon, and I was taking an opportunity to indulge in my most prominent vice – beer.  There were only two other people in the bar, both of them regulars.  They sat in their usual seats, drinking their usual drinks, and chain smoking cigarettes at twenty-five cents a pop.  Between just the two of them, they’d managed to fill the bar with…

The thing about it was that Jack’s life was pretty dull, right up until the day he got shot in the face.  That was the event that changed everything.  It was one of those things that didn’t really hurt at all, that just happened too fast for the brain to register the pain.  It looked nasty though.  Not the sort of blemish that a little makeup would take care of,…

I could tell from the moment I saw him that he’d changed, somehow regressed into that state in which we’d found him wandering the forest two years before.  There was no sign of the rational FBI agent Kyle MacLennan, merely a shadowy, hollow shell, babbling in delusion. We’d received his phone call the previous night, in which he’d relayed fragments of a story.  Something about homicide, an antique dealer and…

When I first saw the shadow that he had become, I didn’t know whether to pity or fear Agent MacLennan.  We arrived on the scene to find him raving about immortals and homicide, and had to forcibly remove him.  He was unhelpful at first, speaking in fragmented sentences, refusing to fully answer any direct questions in a manner as which could help us piece together what had happened.  Only after…

“I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but for the record –“ “How did I find out?  I’m really sick of that question.  It’s like invading someone’s privacy, you know?” “Oh, but come on, the public –“ “It’s always about the public isn’t it?  That’s another thing that drives me crazy, always the public.  I just can’t get any good ME time.  I have needs too you know.”…

Cheregh told me today that there is nothing more he can teach me.  He says my grasp of the language is enough that his lessons would prove fruitless.  I think this is the first compliment I have ever received from him.  Verbally at least.  I can see it in his face sometimes, that he is proud of my writing accomplishments, but I think it just isn’t in him to say…

How the hell do you get yourself into these situations?  There’s no way you can pick up the dog, get little Allen his birthday present, pick up the alimony check from Stan, and still make that dinner salad for the potluck tonight all in the next hour.  Sure, maybe if you were Helen Slater you’d stand a chance, but face the facts, super powers is what you ain’t got, baby….