Read Online Fog Bastards 1 Intention by Bill Robinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Bill Robinson
Tags: Science-Fiction, adventure, Literature & Fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Superhero, Superheroes
Ads: Link
pavement are undriveable. My year's salary would not be enough to undo the damage I have done. Having fun. Without the sun. How could I be so dumb?
I go back to my 20 or so mile per hour jog, head into town, down the Kamehameha III road to Keauhou center, and back up Ali'i to the bay. The light is feeling sorry for me. It suggests flying. Which does not mean it says anything, I just suddenly know how to fly, and since I never did before, it must be my luminous friend.
Standing on the little strip of sand at the bay, next to the bathroom complex, my bare feet feel the sand beneath them as any feet feel any sand. I curl my toes and push the sand around. Then I let myself really touch the sand. The molecules are mine. I gather them beneath my feet and align them just so, they have force, and I can take it from them. I have them push and then I wish I hadn't.
If jumping was terrifying, flying is much, much worse. I am easily 400 feet up, easily moving at 400 knots, easily 400 feet out over the ocean, and easily again screaming like a little girl at 400 decibels.
I forgot to ask how to steer. I reach out for air molecules with my feet, the only body part I know how to find them with, and have them pull me back in. I'm standing on them, very high up, asking them nicely to put me down slowly. Molecules apparently don't understand English. They drop me, or I drop them, or we drop each other, but I manage to find them again after falling about 394 feet and screaming 3,940 times. So now I am standing on air, six feet above ground. I am still stupid enough to ask the molecules for a little push.
I discover that the sand on the beach is only a foot and a half deep. I discover that my head and neck together are less than that. I discover that whatever magical hair gel the light used on me is resistant to sand and impact. I discover it's dark under the ground.
Feeling even more stupid, I pull my head out of the beach's ass, and admire the further additional damage I have done this evening. I am done and WALKING back to the hotel, the light urging me to run the whole time. It's like a five year old whispering at me to go ahead and jump off the roof, it won't hurt, and the cape we made out of a bath towel will slow my fall. The sun's coming up anyhow, and I have no desire to be on YouTube.
I can bend steel in my bare hands. If there was a train, I'm sure I could kick the locomotive's ass. No bullet could beat me in the 40 yard dash. I can leap tall hotels screaming like a nine year old girl. I can cause more damage than humanly possible.
I pass one of the flight attendants out for her jog, say hey, and she completely ignores the come on from the unknown man. Good disguise at least. I think briefly about jumping up to my room, but figure that might cause too much of a commotion, so I head into the stairwell. It is a typical design, metal and concrete stairs in a square circle (you know what I mean), with an opening in the middle that goes all the way to the ceiling. I stand at the bottom and give in to the light, which is egging me on. I jump as straight up as I can, which is a stupid thing to do, turns out you can't steer while jumping either, and the light is not your friend. It laughs, at me now, not with me.
My head takes out the railing on the third floor, and I fall back to where I started. I am not hurt, but the railing will never rail again. I scoot up the stairs in long strides, landing to landing, cringing when I pass floor number three. Between the lock and the railing, I have cost the hotel at least a few hundred dollars, and some poor slob will need body work on his Civic. Not to mention destroying a road and damaging a beach. A night's experimenting and I obviously have a long way to go.
That last thought leads me to another thought: I have to pilot a plane in a couple hours, and I have gotten zero sleep. I open the door to my room, and standing just
I go back to my 20 or so mile per hour jog, head into town, down the Kamehameha III road to Keauhou center, and back up Ali'i to the bay. The light is feeling sorry for me. It suggests flying. Which does not mean it says anything, I just suddenly know how to fly, and since I never did before, it must be my luminous friend.
Standing on the little strip of sand at the bay, next to the bathroom complex, my bare feet feel the sand beneath them as any feet feel any sand. I curl my toes and push the sand around. Then I let myself really touch the sand. The molecules are mine. I gather them beneath my feet and align them just so, they have force, and I can take it from them. I have them push and then I wish I hadn't.
If jumping was terrifying, flying is much, much worse. I am easily 400 feet up, easily moving at 400 knots, easily 400 feet out over the ocean, and easily again screaming like a little girl at 400 decibels.
I forgot to ask how to steer. I reach out for air molecules with my feet, the only body part I know how to find them with, and have them pull me back in. I'm standing on them, very high up, asking them nicely to put me down slowly. Molecules apparently don't understand English. They drop me, or I drop them, or we drop each other, but I manage to find them again after falling about 394 feet and screaming 3,940 times. So now I am standing on air, six feet above ground. I am still stupid enough to ask the molecules for a little push.
I discover that the sand on the beach is only a foot and a half deep. I discover that my head and neck together are less than that. I discover that whatever magical hair gel the light used on me is resistant to sand and impact. I discover it's dark under the ground.
Feeling even more stupid, I pull my head out of the beach's ass, and admire the further additional damage I have done this evening. I am done and WALKING back to the hotel, the light urging me to run the whole time. It's like a five year old whispering at me to go ahead and jump off the roof, it won't hurt, and the cape we made out of a bath towel will slow my fall. The sun's coming up anyhow, and I have no desire to be on YouTube.
I can bend steel in my bare hands. If there was a train, I'm sure I could kick the locomotive's ass. No bullet could beat me in the 40 yard dash. I can leap tall hotels screaming like a nine year old girl. I can cause more damage than humanly possible.
I pass one of the flight attendants out for her jog, say hey, and she completely ignores the come on from the unknown man. Good disguise at least. I think briefly about jumping up to my room, but figure that might cause too much of a commotion, so I head into the stairwell. It is a typical design, metal and concrete stairs in a square circle (you know what I mean), with an opening in the middle that goes all the way to the ceiling. I stand at the bottom and give in to the light, which is egging me on. I jump as straight up as I can, which is a stupid thing to do, turns out you can't steer while jumping either, and the light is not your friend. It laughs, at me now, not with me.
My head takes out the railing on the third floor, and I fall back to where I started. I am not hurt, but the railing will never rail again. I scoot up the stairs in long strides, landing to landing, cringing when I pass floor number three. Between the lock and the railing, I have cost the hotel at least a few hundred dollars, and some poor slob will need body work on his Civic. Not to mention destroying a road and damaging a beach. A night's experimenting and I obviously have a long way to go.
That last thought leads me to another thought: I have to pilot a plane in a couple hours, and I have gotten zero sleep. I open the door to my room, and standing just
Similar Books
