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Deal 1371: Death by chocolate

The cake sat there patiently the whole time. Rich, creamy, dark as night with several varieties of chocolate. It sat there and looked tempting.

But the promise of outrage if the cake was eaten, or its frosting disturbed, kept most forks away.

Outrage that might lead to death.

And so it sat there. Tempting. Calling my name.

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Deal 1366: Eyes on the storm

The eyes watched. There are always eyes. The eyes are never there when I try to point them out, but I know they are there. Watching. Judging. Commanding.

The dark approached. It wasn’t the ordinary sort of darkness that attends night’s fall. No, it was a far more tangible sort of darkness.

A darkness that portends.

I’m not sure what it portends. But it looks like the sort of thing that must portend something.

The eyes agree.

They wink. And nod, subtly.

And somehow, I know what must be done.

And possibly even have the strength to do what must be done.

The eyes are jealous of anything else that might be as dark and opaque as they are. I’m not saying that right, I rarely succeed when I try to put what the eyes tell me into words.

It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that the great darkness must not reach here.

The eyes say so.

And with their will behind me, it passes harmlessly.

And I may return to my quiet, peaceful worship of the eyes.

The watch me. And judge. And find me worthy.

Today.

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Deal 1272: Wishes

It is nearly dusk at the lake shore. The last rays of the setting sun reflect off the deep still water, the orange tones contrasting with its usual blues. Most of the water is still, except for right at the shore, where a large shaggy dog is bounding enthusiastically through the shallows to the shore, sending spray, sand, mud, and the occasional weed everywhere. On shore, the car is packed, and the family is mostly aboard.

Everyone’s hopes are writ large in their expressions.

The dog has simple desires, and knows that he just got one last duck chased away before heading back to the land of fences and squirrels.

The children wish the week at the lake could last longer, and now clearly wish they weren’t about to spend several hours dozing in the car along with a large happy wet dog.

The parents also wish they were driving home a large happy dry dog; tempered by twin desires for a longer vacation, and a somewhat welcome return to their normal routine.

The duck’s desire is being realized below as the giant loud fluffy thing is loaded into the strange mobile box and driven away.