The Man From Earth Review Novels & Stories

I sat in the chair nearest the door because sitting nearest the door felt like the right instinct, and I waited, and the house waited around me, and nobody spoke. Then the front door opened. The man who walked in was tall, not as tall as Damien but close, with lighter colouring and a face that shared certain features with Damien's the way different editions of the same book share a cover. You could see the connection if you were looking for it. The jaw, the set of the eyes, the particular way he held himself like he had grown up being told he was important and then at some point stopped believing it. He was maybe thirty. He was wearing a jacket that had been expensive once and was not anymor

“Melissa. He’s infamous. Cold. Ruthless. Doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’s like… a corporate Grim Reaper. People either quit or break down after working under him.” ‎ ‎I shrugged. “Never heard of him.” ‎ ‎Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh. My. God. Here he comes.” ‎ ‎The energy in the room shifted like a gust of wind. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. Every head turned toward the glass doors as a man strode in, flanked by two board members. ‎

O N E The scraping branches accidentally touched the man's cold sweat. The man was so consumed with the idea of escaping that he almost did not feel the rock caught in his feet. Even barely heard the crunching and breaking of dead leaves and twigs against his boots. Almost did not see the tall trees rising out of the earth to touch the sky, not even aware of the creaking and groaning sounds they made as they swayed. They were not important to him after all. What he needed to pay attention to was the energy and strength inside his body to escape from his adversaries.

Raising my gun, looking down the sight, I stop when I see the man pulling out a rope. Cutting the rope with one swing of his machete, I watch as the rope flies away, and then, before our very eyes, we watch as all sorts of things rain from above: broken glass, bricks, nails. "What the hell," Rebecca says, watching as what looks like a car engine drops onto an infected and crushes it. Looking up, I see a giant bin hanging above the alleyway. It's turnover and seems to still be dropping things on the infected. "This way," the man shouts, running away.

THE MAN IN YELLOW

the man with slick back blonde hair and deep set royal blue eyes said, his arm effortlessly rested on the truck's roof as he pulled down his mask. God, I almost felt my jaw dropped when I finally had a good glimpse of the man's entire face. Oh, boy! He'd probably applied for the wrong post, because he was beyond beautiful. No. I didn't think there's any description that could give the man's features justice but a personification of a God. Not that I was exaggerating but seriously, was he even aware that he could surpass Chris fucking Evans? "Yeah. Had to take the longer route, Ryder. Roads been blocked by the other troupe."