A.Journal

Checks

789 checks

Medium

Dust motes hang in the stale air. Unbound stars drifting in space.

Medium

From the window you can hear the sound of two people laughing out on Orphanage Street.

Easy

The skin -- clammy, coarse.

Medium

Above you, the last visible stars dissolve in the dawn-light. Elsewhere, the bark of a small dog muffled by a window.

Formidable

A shame. A good weather report's harder to produce than it looks.

Medium

Above you, uncountable stars veiled by the scattering of blue light. Elsewhere, the bark of a small dog muffled by a window.

Medium

Above you, the evening's first stars blink into life. Elsewhere, the bark of a small dog muffled by a window.

Medium

Above you, a canyon of stars, framed by the buildings of the Housing Campaign. Elsewhere, the bark of a small dog muffled by a window.

Easy

Gentle electronic tones rise and recede from it like the tide against a digital beach.

Easy

Suprema 100. Like the ones your double brought.

Easy

Suprema 100. Smoked by tens of millions across the People's Republics.

Medium

But no one jumps out of anything. No one appears to fix your hair or tell you exactly what to say. It's just you, the man with the box for a heart, and a few metres off, the maintenance man going about his lonely offices.

Trivial

You haven't yet emerged from the fog of sodium thiopental. There's no deflecting just now.

Easy

Comically vague. Very little to work with.

Formidable

Through the television screen, his eyes meet yours.

Medium

Out of the corner of your eye, on one of the little rounded tables, you notice someone's left an old sausage, casing black and blistered, pool of grease congealing around it.

Easy

The vendor sighs and seems to deflate ever so slightly before your eyes.

Easy

Nostrils flare like hairy little cannons.

Easy

Veins rise like old roots beneath his thin skin.

Medium

Whispered, urgent, seething.

Easy

Little bits of foam stick to it, and there are broken pieces at the side. She's torn it from something else.

Easy

She flaps her hands around inside them to demonstrate volume.

Easy

A light pink flush on her cheeks.

Medium

Anything. You can't feel anything.

Formidable

She touches a hand to the wounds on her chest.

Challenging

She shoots you a quick glance, trying to read your expression.

Formidable

It's not climbing fast, but it is climbing.

Medium

One of the thinner tendrils reflexively lifts as you nudge it.

Formidable

Warm cottage cheese dragged through battery acid.

Medium

Damp. Slightly raised. Almost fuzzy, like it's sweating.

Medium

Lopsided, only one half of his mouth lifts to bare his teeth in the sinister smile he gives you.

Easy

Fresh blood vessels pop in his eyes.

Easy

A labcoat splattered with blood both new and old.

Medium

Blood in his gums, too.

Medium

Oh, yeah. Feel that heft. This prybar's pried some shit.

Medium

The entry wound glows warm, as though awakened.

Medium

That's not liquor.

Easy

A noose around his neck. A labcoat splattered with blood both new and old.

Medium

The lettering on the man's t-shirt, although barely legible, reads: '¡TODOS SOMOS NESTOR!'

Easy

She rubs the card between her discerning thumb and forefinger.

Medium

The shadows under her eyes deepen. She swallows.

Challenging

Automatically, your eyes scan up from hers. You notice the lace at the front of her wig.

Challenging

Dolphins reflected in his eyeglasses.

Medium

Her husband clears his throat.

Medium

She sends a worried look to the door. Pascal sits beyond.

Easy

She pats her left hand dry on the tea towel hanging from the cupboard. There are tiny little daisies on it.

Medium

You hear someone laugh, loudly, on the roof above.

Challenging

'I wish I was deaf.'

Medium

His words uncertain, his bearing unsteady. Drunk, possibly high?

Legendary

Horrific chemical orgasm. A hallucinogenic purge of everything stored within the brain's archives, known to the laywoman as life flashing before your eyes.