The lights of Wayward Pines glowed against the cliffs that boxed it in, and for the first time, those steep mountain walls seemed inviting. Fortifications
The funny thing is, as bad as I am, I don’t have it in me to murder her husband. Is there a fate worse than being halfway evil?
Since the Industrial Revolution, we’ve treated our world like it was a hotel room and we were rock stars.
She whispered his name like a prayer, fingers already fast at work in that swampy heat between her thighs.
She takes another step back, reaches into her gray woolen cloak. The single-action army revolver is a heavy sidearm, and it sags comically in the child’s hand, so she holds it like a rifle. Brady is t...
She has a direct link hardwired from her heart to her mouth. No filter, no self-revision. She says what she feels, without a shred of guile or cunning. She works no angles.
Rampant speculation ignited as the country fell in love with its own fear.
Oh, is that your argument? It isn’t cheating if it’s another version of me? I mean, it’s original at least. This makes her laugh. That it makes her laugh says everything about why I love her.
Now, old and dying or dead already, and we have mostly acclimatized to the absurdity of daily life in the fourth decade of the twenty-first century, although occasionally we regress and rant. To journ...
None of it could hold a candle to the shit-yourself-fear evoked by a charging abby.
My old world is feeling more and more like a ghost. You know how a dream feels the farther you get from it? It loses its color and intensity and logic. Your emotional connection to it fades.
My life is great. It’s just not exceptional. And there was a time when it could have been. You killed your ambition, didn’t you? It died of natural causes. Of neglect.
It’s a strange thing, being the parent of a teenager. One thing to raise a little boy, another entirely when a person on the brink of adulthood looks to you for wisdom. I feel like I have little to gi...
It isn’t married-people lovemaking that follows. We have fumbling, groping, backseat-of-the-car, unprotected-because-who-gives-a-fuck, protons-smashing-together sex.
It doesn’t get any better than the first week of October. It always puts me in mind of that F. Scott Fitzgerald line: Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.
In the world we came from, our existence was so easy. And so full of discontent because it was so easy. How do you find meaning when you’re one of seven billion? When food, clothing, everything you ne...
In some environments, safety and truth are natural born enemies. I would think a former employee of the federal government could grasp that concept.
If I represent the pinnacle of family success for all the Jason Dessens, Jason2 represents the professional and creative apex. We’re opposite poles of the same man.
I'd found something I didn't even know I was searching for.
I would rather die today than live in that sick illusion of a town for one more hour. Like prisoners. Like slaves.