Face ever changing,
A madman and his blue box,
Last of the Time Lords.
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More stories from Colin O'Neal Sammons and writers in Poets and other communities.
They Called Me Angel
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Whoever said that obviously wasn’t a telepath, and certainly wasn’t an Ansible-Neurologically-Linked Commanding Officer in the Terran Marines. Whether in space or in atmosphere, it doesn’t matter. The boys scream when they die, and I hear them.
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>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
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