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Wait for you~ (A Sonamy Story) A Sonamy Story~
This is for: ~bah1301
“I’m sorry, Sonic. But...I think it’s time to move on.”
“What are you saying? I’m telling you that I love you. I’m confessing them to you.”
“I don’t believe you, Sonic. Every day, I give you my love and strength, and hoping that you will love me back...But, all of them vanished from my dreams already.”
“Stop saying that!”
“You know that’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not! Please, give me a chance.”
“I...just don’t know. This is goodbye, Sonic.”
“Where are you going?”
“To a new life.”
“Ames, please. Don’t leave me.”
“You don’t want me in your life, I always knew it every time you run away!
Cassandra-81 C81 had a name once. It started with the letter A, she thought, or maybe it ended with an A. She didn’t know anymore; it was the first thing they took when she arrived at the Troy Institute. It had bothered her for the first few weeks, but the more she tried to remember, the more she seemed to forget. When she brought the issue up to the doctors, they repeated what they had been saying all along, that she could not be healed as who she was. To be whole again, she had to rid herself of her past identity and become a new person. They would give her a new name once she was ready.
She didn’t know how long it would take, or how long
imaginary conversations I“But it’s not like you just say, ‘oh, you have the attributes which I seek in a mate, so I will now proceed to fall in love with you.’ You can’t turn love on and off like flipping a switch. It doesn't work like that.”
“In a way, it does, though. Because any kind of real love—not a crush or an infatuation: real, deep, lasting love—centres around a similarity in the core of their being and the core of yours. You have to have a reason to love someone—to really love someone, I mean—whether it be their integrity or fortitude or kindness or intelligence or something else entirely. A
The EuroAAARGGH returns - 3Find Where Her Jewels Are!
Well you've got to tie her up,
and then you've got to lay her down.
For you have just a moment to use the tape
and make her dumb, and soon you will find
you have the time, to find where her jewels are!
You gotta take her wrists and then you gotta tie them tight
You gotta be sure that there’s no way she can break the ropes
Before you decide that the time is right for tying her arms up
Don't let the hidden sister, take you from behind
Trust your inner vision and make her lie down there as well
And now you really gotta tie her up and make them sit back to back
Gotta wrap the rope around their waists and
AbstractionThe door slammed shut behind her with such force the pictures rattled on the walls. She threw herself down on the sofa, before jumping up again. She just couldn't stay still! There was too much going on inside her, and somehow the self-pity that she expected to feel was being drowned with an overwhelming anger.
She threw a pillow, started with something soft, but the gentle sound it made when it connected with the wall was not what she wanted. So she picked up a book and threw it without looking, the crash as a lamp hit the floor was so satisfying, almost too much so.
Without thinking she ran to the kitchen and threw all the plates that she
He Spoke a Language I Didn't UnderstandWhen I met him, we could not understand one another. I was young, he was old. We both spoke different tongues, and we looked nothing alike. Yet we had been forced together under the iron hand of war and invasion, and that was something we both understood. I was dumped off into his arms like a disobedient puppy by our master, a wordless order to teach me how to act in this new world of foreign rulers and cruel restrictions being exchanged between the two. And while our prisons my have been different - he sat on a silk cushion and was preened like an exotic bird by our master, and I was led around by collar and chain like a young but extremely dangerous animal - we were both captives all the same.
At first, we would both forget that the other could not verbally understand what we wished to say, so we began speaking through physical means. Touches, gestures, and hand signs became our voices. Some were soft; like a brush of the arm to get me to turn in that direction, or when I would pat h
The New Monk-chapter 6-The sun was rising the other morning. The monks had to wake up early, as planned , they had to go to Jack’s evil lair to get back their stolen Wu. Omi, was the first one to get up. He went in the other monks rooms and woke them up. Kimiko, Lydia and Clay woke up, but Rai had troubles. While the monks were dressing up, Omi yelled at him
“Raimundo, get your backside up now, Master Fung must not see us!”- Omi said as he rushed through his room.
“Alright, alright! I’m coming!”- he said as he snuggled in his pillow and continued to sleep.
Kimiko went in his room and, of course, managed to get the lazy Brazilia
mirror.you tried to dig your way through glass and aluminum.
i'm there somewhere, you muttered. i'm still there.
i never understood why you always tried, tried, tried to make the make-believe come true.
i looked at your chipped nails, the torn cuticles, your haunted eyes.
and wondered if you were better off living in your imaginary world of white and grey.
you said i was a reflection of you.
but try as I may, i couldn’t see the similarities between you and I.
your features: black and white, colourless and pale.
an outline, a shadow of yourself.
vibrant, bursting with life. a rainbow. radiant.
i’ll find yo
Diary of Torch Scorcher Day 21 to 40Day 21 – 25/5/2007
I built a tower with the mushrooms today. I’m so proud of myself, but Mr. Wave didn't seem to like it.
Day 22 – 26/5/2007
I keep having nightmares with my dad, I’m sure that if he saw me right now, he would hit me for getting into trouble… I never wanted this… He would be very angry. After all… his death was my fault, wasn't it? I didn't want to hurt him, it was an accident… Tomorrow I’ll write exactly what happened, maybe the ones who are reading this will understand. I’m tired. But at least, my salad sandwiches are back, I’m happy now.
Day 23 &nda
Story Fragment with Dark and Zaen"Zaen. Zaen."
Someone was shaking Zaen's shoulder. He stirred.
"Wake up, kid. Seriously. I come home and I find you layin' on the floor like a murder victim."
"It's lying, not laying. The verb lay requires a direct object, whereas the verb lie does not..." Zaen mumbled, rubbing his eyes and squinting. Why had Dark turned on such bright lights?
"Lay, lie, whatever." Dark tugged at Zaen's hands. "Get up. It's way past your bedtime."
Zaen moaned, rolled over, and covered his eyes. The room was far too bright. Why was he on the floor again? Oh, right, he had been reading.
"Fine, lazy kid." Dark knelt and put his arms around Zaen. He was giving him a hug? Zaen didn't think Dark liked to give people hugs. Wait... his feet had just left the ground... Oh, Dark had picked him up.
"The floor," Dark continued as he walked, "is a very bad place to sleep. It's dirty, and you ain't gonna be able to sleep well there. And however long
Behind GlassThere I was, having gunned down my first plane. I turned in the seat of the cockpit just in time to see his PZL 23 Karaś go down right over the treeline into our territory. I never felt such a rush under my wings, and I could see the face of my grandfathers before me smiling through the clouds like they were welcoming me into the flock. Even better, the thought of praise I would get from my superiors for once. I’d proven them all wrong. I was the fledgling that left the nest too early, with only a few months of training beneath me before they sent me out to war.
It was the only kill I got all day, but it was all I needed. I return
Day FourI worry that
if I give you more
than Tuesday afternoons,
we might lose things
we can’t get back.
If you have something
that makes you think of me
I won’t be able to
slip in and out of
like we had agreed.
Day ThreeI have turned myself
into a cavern.
Pulling so hard,
that I can hear the seams
crack beneath my fingers.
I ask how I
can bleed myself dry
before a sea of faces
I will never see again
and I wonder if it’s worth
the way my bones rattle
beneath my skin
as I fight to stand straight.
Day TwoAt night I coat my
lips and thoughts
hoping that they might
both be softer in the
I worry that
and sharing secrets
will both end with
your blood on my hands.
I hear singing
the spaces in the rainfall.
I open and close
to the rhythm of the wind’s
heartbeat, swallowing fistfuls.
(I swore for a second,
that I could hear your breathing,
but it seems I’ve forgotten that too, love)
I thought I loved the rain,
because it was so much
than the snow, and I could
drown in the streets
without so much as lifting a finger.
JanuaryI. When my brother was expelled from school, I cried for a week. I lay in bed thinking about the poor boy he bullied so relentlessly that he couldn’t escape, even when home. I thought about the relief he must feel, now that he is gone.
II. My mother kept a calendar from his school on our refrigerator. Stoic faces of boys representing years of prestige hung above words from a God they did not think twice about.
III. When he did not think I was looking, I saw remorse dripping from behind his eyes. When he looked at me, I could not look back without seeing the faces of the kids from elementary school and remembering the crushing weight o
LiminalI woke after thirteen hours of sleep
and when I looked in the mirror,
there were still bruise-purple
crescent moons beneath my eyes.
tired no longer comes from a
lack of sleep—it has reached a state
of permanence, engraving itself
into my bones. When you ask
how I am, I will now answer:
cold and tired.
It was later that night when I
tasted the liquor cabinet
to see what all the fuss was about.
Whiskey burns as it goes down
and settles in the cavity of the heart,
encompassing it with a hug
that a lover will never reach.
I now want to know if I will
ever be able to melt.
I used to close my eyes beneath
the night sky, as everything i
FFM XVOf course it was wet, it was the 1800's!
No one could remember when the rain started, and no one could see it stopping any time soon. Rain collected in buckets, gutters, potholes in the street. We learned to live with it as everyone else had done for years. It did wonders for the city's rat population (which I hear took a sharp downfall when the rain first started), and if it weren't for the mud, it might almost be bearable.
I, however, had grown sick of it. There were only stories of sunshine now. Stories told late at night by my grandmother, or re-told with glorious anecdotes by my brother.
There was really nothing that I wanted more tha
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More