Billboard of Time

  Beside the road on Highway 34 there was a new billboard bravely asking,

                                             "Do you believe in Time Travel?"

 There was no accompanying information, just those words in white font on a stock black background. A few miles before it sat an advertisement for a premium malt beverage, after lay one for a local insurance company.

 If you weren't paying attention you'd dismiss it without a thought, letting it sink into the scenery. If you were reading intently you might wonder about the text for a bit, then write the message off as an odd prank or an art installation. But what if, just hypothetically, you took the strange message to be completely sincere?

     Would you keep driving 'til you came to a cyber-café where you could investigate who had paid for the time-travel billboard? Would you track them down for the chance to possible use their time machine? Or would you just smile quietly to yourself as you passed the billboard and as you exited the highway, your car dissolving into thin air only to reappear in 2514.

Hacienda
Savage

A Cold December Night

   She lost her love on a cold December night.  No her lover didn't die; he told her as they walked by the river front, "Babe, I just can't do this, I don't love you any more"

  They parted ways, she kept walking along the river as snow started falling softly.  She felt her love go out like a light, a candle's flame extinguished by the wind.  In its place was only an icy numbness that she found she was perfectly okay with, in fact her new state matched the weather wonderfully.  She smiled ironically and laughed, "Aren't I supposed to be hurting?" she thought to herself.  Well, suppose not, now that there was no heart left to be broken.  She walked on and on, coming to a vista looking out unto the river and connecting bay.  She leaned against the railing, watching as the flakes of snow were getting bigger: so this was what it was like to lose one's love.

Come What May

Its cold, you breath out. Your breath is like pure white smoke; stark against the increasing dark skies. A single tear rolls down your cheek; hands cold, gloveless, they ball up into fists. Eyes close for a few seconds...calm, calm...eyes open again, pupils focus themselves, a wolfish smile plays across your lips. You are ready.