<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>DED on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/ded/</link><description>Recent content in DED on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sun, 30 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/ded/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Like Thunder</title><link>/stories/2007/09/30/like-thunder/</link><pubDate>Sun, 30 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/09/30/like-thunder/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;This is it Mary!&amp;rdquo; The wind howled and burned in her ears. &amp;ldquo;We go now or
we don&amp;rsquo;t go at all!&amp;rdquo; Mary clutched madly at the railing. The rain slammed
into their bodies. Less than a mile away lightning was spit from massive
clouds that were as dark as pitch. She saw the ground below them. She
looked to her left and saw her friend climb to a precarious perch on the
rust covered rails.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Darkness</title><link>/stories/2007/03/12/darkness/</link><pubDate>Mon, 12 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/03/12/darkness/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Darkness. It was always the first thing she saw. She would come
home to it and she would leave in it. That was the way it was every time.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Carol walked in the empty apartment and shut the door behind her. She liked it. She liked not being able to see where she was. The rest of her life was so boring; this bit of fantasy was all she had. She could make herself feel just a tinge of fear at first. She would fill her mind with all sorts of gruesome ../images. Each time to her surprise, she would get to the point where she would feel that bitter taste of real fear. So real that each step to the light switch was one too many.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Hard to Swallow</title><link>/stories/2007/03/12/hard-to-swallow/</link><pubDate>Mon, 12 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/03/12/hard-to-swallow/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The world always seems a little odd. It doesn&amp;rsquo;t
matter who you are. It always seems odd. It seems
odd in life. It seems odd in college. It seems odd
in high school. At least in two of these places, odd
is the order of the day. Every one feels it, and at
least in that, we take some comfort.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;But not everyone knows how truly strange things can
get. Not everyone can see that we aren&amp;rsquo;t in the
normal world we would like. We call them crazy.
Sometimes we call them paranoid. But unfortunately,
most of the time, we completely ignore them. One
person knew this better than most.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>