city: knee‚ shoulder‚ and right knuckle skinned in half-hearted fights; fingertips hypothermic blue‚ just for show. The alleyways are filled with tired eyes and clusters of folded yellow flowers in unfeeling hands. Glass shatters like ocean waves‚ like my mind when time stopped ticking forward. We set our watches back by an hour‚ by two‚ by ten and a half. Apartments rise against the skyline‚ scraping stars: shrouded in smoke and light pollution but most certainly there‚ watching as another bouquet
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I would spend my last day with my family and friends. I would buy a whole bunch of things I have always wanted and use them. I would go driving‚ even though I don’t have a license. I would be scared and unhappy that I was probably going to die‚ but I would still try to act happy and have a good last day alive. I would say everything I have always wanted to everyone. I would make sure that I have made friends with everyone I’ve always wanted too. I would own up to everything I have done to everyone
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The sound was coming closer‚ and closer‚ and it came so close that Charlie heard it very clear. It was a bloodthirsty‚ murderous clown‚ who was holding a butter sock. He chased Charlie‚ and was laughing hysterically. ¨My boss will be so proud! Just come here boy‚ I got candy‚ wait‚ I don´t!¨ Charlie hid behind a wall to catch his breath‚ but then‚ he saw another one. It was another clown‚ except‚ he was looking child-friendly. He was holding an inflated‚ squeaky balloon
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bones and your hair stands straight up. You slowly push the door open with the arm that still works to see her standing on her bed staring in the corner of her room. “Whats wrong?” you ask with fear of the answer. She replies “There is a weird spider in my room and you know how I hate spiders”. This strikes you‚ maybe it’s the same spider from your room. You decide to examine the spider and research it on your phone‚ turns out it’s a Brazilian widow spider that is lethal to small bugs and rodents‚ but
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penis. And then at the panties in his hand. And then at his now-deflating penis. He frantically wrapped the panties around his penis and began to rub them back and forth. It wasn’t working. “Y-you’re… using them?” “Y-yup.” “That’s disgusting‚ oh my god!” That REALLY shouldn’t have made Noro hard. Whatever‚ this was finally starting to feel good again. The thought then struck him‚ however‚ that maybe Alice was saying all of that out of genuine distaste of the situation. Sure‚ she gave him her panties
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enough details to know that she was in a room. The only source of light was something that reminded her of one of those fancy lightbulbs that she seen on comercials‚ and from what she could see‚ the cell had a stone doorway glowed a faint red light. The last thing that she remembered was watching herself go with Arnold‚ then everything after that faded. That emptiness that she felt was still ever-present. She felt surprisingly well rested‚ but at the same time
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Hold up‚ they don’t love you like I love you Slow down‚ they don’t love you like I love you Back up‚ they don’t love you like I love you Step down‚ they don’t love you like I love you You stood in your doorway of the bedroom you and Bucky shared anger building up from the past week of trying to keep in about you knowing about his mistress. That stopped once you followed him and caught him in your bed‚ at that bitch home. Anger boiled inside of you as you thought about the sight of her on top of
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which he has planned Fortunato’s death. Both of the men want the same thing. Edgar Poe has a strong way of reproducing great literary elements in the story; the theme of revenge is explained with the use of irony. One irony used in this story is dramatic irony‚ which is when the readers understand it and the characters does not. “You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill‚ and I cannot be responsible. Besides‚ there is Luchesi-” “Enough‚” he said; “the cough
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PROLOGUE She was asleep. She was dreaming. That’s all she knew. Where she was‚ who she was‚ it didn’t cross her mind. All that mattered was the dream. The nightmare. Fear‚ terror‚ anger‚ panic‚ longing‚ despair‚ darkness. Then-she was awake. She was in a bed. She was curled up‚ twisted‚ in the sheets. But she wasn’t alone. She could feel someone there‚ but who they were she didn’t know. She slowly stretched out her arms‚ reaching for the unknown person‚ wanting to feel someone else. Wanting to know
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Lettre I ENSEIGNE DE FORTESQUE to ENSEIGNE DE LEMEMBRE The most coincidental of circumstances‚ that even I couldn’t have foreseen‚ has by fate’s way‚ occasioned. My first night back in Paris was an eventful affair‚ with it being the grande ouverture of Le Académie Royale de Musique‚ I was not sure what was more insufferable‚ my family’s extravagant reunion or the monotony of the “great” Italian Opera les Peines et les Plaisirs de l’Amour‚ you know better than anyone just how I déteste saccharine
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