THE MIGHTY MIL

The lucky confluence of this being a New Year's post, as well as my thousandth, means that we get an entertainingly disjointed post.

My horoscope: Good intentions to live a healthier lifestyle have yo-yoed over the past couple of weeks, but now that the festive season is almost over you can start again with a refreshed resolve. Center your New Year’s resolution on ditching those unhealthy habits because there’s a high chance of success from today!

I was just telling people I had no reason to set resolutions this year, and the example I used was that I was already practicing yoga four times a week, so no resolution was necessary. So, maybe this is about smoking?

As it turned out, December was not only my most productive month since I started the blog, but it boasted the second-most posting for a year.

Lastly, I have composed this story:

UNTITLED

They reflected later on the impact of the bus' early arrival, three minutes before schedule. On time, late, or even two and a half minutes early would have changed the entire situation. An unnamed woman boarded the bus at Sixth and Thomas, and rode eight blocks to the other side of Broadway. It was economical for her to do so, because she used a bus pass, and this was the last day of the month.

She debarked near Tenth, and walked down Tenth in the dark. The streetlights and porch lights added less illumination than atmosphere. A man walked toward her. She felt the cold, and pulled her coat tighter.

The man passed and she unconsciously released her grip on her sides. As she reaxed she heard four loud footsteps and felt an arm across her neck.

“He-!” she started to exclaim, before her windpiped was closed. She panicked and tried to breath, and the man stabbed at her carelessly with a small utility knife. He stabbed her in the arm. And in the shoulder. And in the side. He stabbed her ten times before letting her go.

She fell to her hands and knes. Now that she could breath again she couldn’t manage to shout. The man gasped in his place, his hands on his knees. He inhaled deeply and walked past her, grabbing her purse from her weekly protesting arm. He walked away, rapidly sorting through the purse’s contents.

And the unnamed woman clutched her wounded side, and prayed to God that she had missed the bus after all.