Boston Marathon Witness Interview: Police Told Us Bomb Drill Was ‘Training Exercise’

I spoke with Boston Marathon eyewitness Alastair Stevenson who confirmed the bomb drill and revealed what he saw…

improvedreplicas asked:

Thoroughly lost and more than a little confused, the Reploid Crash could only stop and stare when he found himself outside of a fortress. With no idea of what else to do he began to walk toward it. Maybe whoever lived here could help him.

Spark immediately noticed Crash’s signature helmet from across the lawn. “Crash, is that you? Hey, I wanted to ask you somethi-“

He paused when he noticed that the android seemed concerned. It wasn’t like his Crash Man to care about anything enough to be concerned, let alone about the fortress. He hoped that he wasn’t mistaking anger for worry - the last thing he needed was a bomb drilled through his chest. 

"Uh, Crash, do you need help with something? H-Heh, I mean, if you want it! Not saying you’re not talented enough to do.. er, whatever it is you’re doing by yourself, but, you know!" He grimaced. His words definitely didn’t make anything better, that’s for sure.

Gravedigger Boy

You walked through your living room like it was made of glass, and you were comfortable
Knowing that it could break, could crack and shatter and leave you buttoning up your shirts between the leftover shards
You built bedrooms like you expected a war
Living under a bomb threat and drilling through routes to shelter until they were maps written in your palm
You have a tombstone tattooed on your back that taught you to count the days between goodbyes
Numbers sit between your ribs like a tally of how many times
And you’ve been searching for something ever since, pacing behind a couch full of people who aren’t enough, somehow, even though they should be.
You have friends who look like the sun coming out of the water but you’re missing the fingers that shake you awake for the dawn, missing the palms that remind you that you’re real when midnight wraps around you like you were born in a cage and you’ll never know what day feels like
You have eyes that dart between constellations like a treasure map, with shooting stars flying past just to give you a chance to ask for something
I’m not sure you see them even though they whisper your name, thousands of light years from the past, but
I wish for you to be loved to the point of madness
Until you feel like you’re breathing underwater
And I hope she sets your house on fire, just to show you it won’t burn up, to prove to you that you don’t live in a graveyard standing vigil
You are not a hole in the ground, waiting for a few bones
You are a storm, dressed up as a boy
A tempest that sings with it’s hands
Nudging people closer,
And telling the flowers that it’s finally time to breathe