Strange is defined by nothing,
the meaning endlessly caught in a swirl of misunderstanding.
who is strange?
what is strange?
to whom is the strange stranger,
but to whom is the strangest not strange?
what should strange be?
what can strange be?
if someone said something was strange,
would it be strange to you?
One free day
running through the green forest
soon to be browned by the flowering season of winter.
resting by the old oak,
I have a complete day off the life that consumes me,
work in school
work in home.
in the all consuming life of work,
a break is like the petals of a water lily,
unfolding possibilities like unwrapping candy,
water cannot stop me,
snow cannot stop me,
I am free
He vaulted the Barriers and crouched. 20 year old James Nicolson had no idea is life was about to change. Like he had been told, the fence was very old and rusted, and the sign that was hanging crooked off one peg read: DAN ER ELECTRI ENCE. James crept across the walkway and kneeled next to the fence. He put his ear next to it and listened. There was no faint buzz of electricity; nothing seemed the least bit electric. He swung his backpack down and rummaged through it. When he found the pliers he started to twist the wires apart without breaking the trigger wound inside the wire. When he was finished he had a small gap, just big enough for him to fit in.
He squeezed through and hurried across the small urban lot, when he heard a noise he had heard dozens of times. It was the noise of a shotgun. A voice said, “Don’t move, hands in the air! Do as I say or I will fire!”
James slowly turned on the man.
He picked the lock of the door and hurled himself in. He checked his floor plan and then stuffed it in his jean pockets as he climbed the first set of stairs. As he climbed higher he eventually reached the top and went in the next office door. He sat down at the chair and started to rummage anything that could fetch a meager amount of money. Golden pens, golden pins, he even found a silver button that had probably fallen off the office man’s coat.
As he reached for it, there was sudden chaos. Two dozen security guards rushed through the door and they were armed. They filed in and took up positions. The room went completely silent, except for the creaking fan. James could have done a number of things right then. He could have just given himself up, or turned himself in, or pretended he worked there, or was the son of a man who worked there, but he did none of those things. He jumped out the twelfth story window. It imminently smashed under his weight, and he was lost from the vision of the guards. Seven rushed to the window but could see no man. They did not realize that, not more than a foot away, James Nicolson dangled from the roof using one hand. The other was fingering a silver button.
Thoom looked everywhere frantically for the silver com-button. He was frantic. If he did not find it soon the director would do... things to him that were unimaginable.