balloon

It was Monday and I was back to work, all I could think about was going home and inflating. Some time, during lunch, I sat at my desk, and decided I needed to call my discovery something. Later that day, while getting ready to go home, I was stopped by security. I was escorted to the presidents’ office. He was an older gentleman with gray hair, brown eyes, tired face and a course voice from all the cigar smoking in his years. They security guard escorted me to the chair and I sat down. Hans, he began, so did everyone else, no one like to say my full name.

The Intertwined Histories of Human Ballooning, Diving Rescues, and the Inflation Olympics:

A Personal History

 by Latecomer

The cardboard sign read “Haunted House” in black magic marker with an arrow pointing down the street. It was nearing 10 o’clock; our bags sagged from so much free candy and our limbs were sore. A haunted house adventure sounded like a perfect ending to Halloween. We mustered the strength to hurry and resisted temptations to continue begging houses for candy.

Orange and purple lights strung along its walls shone through the artificial fog belching from concealed machines. Spooky sounds and eerie music emanated from the open door; strobe lights illuminated the entrance.

Derek pressed his back against the bedroom door that had been slammed in his face no more than a few moments ago. He'd apologized to Analise too many times over the phone and she deserved to hear this one in person.

On the far side of the door, Derek could hear Analise opening and slamming drawers. He really hadn't wanted to do this, really he didn't. If only that asshole, Frye, had kept his mouth shut.

"Why'd you have to take that damn promotion?" Analise shouted from beyond the doorway. Her breath began to come in sobbing huffs.