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18.It's exhilarating to love someone that your'e not supposed to; sneaking glances to make your heart race, trying to speak clearly through a lump in your throat, letting their radiant smile shine past the glint of the wedding ring. He supposes that's why he allowed himself to love her, as if he could get off on the thrill and would never have to even touch her. Her hair brushed against the back of his hand one afternoon, and he could see stars as she walked so gracefully away. He had never seen stars with any other girl, even when they pressed his hands against their cheeks, even when they let their hair dangle over his face like a curtain hiding a secret that everyone already knew. And so he spent the slowly disappearing days counting the times she could make his stomach twist and flutter.
After, he spent his nights awake trying to remember the way she sometimes lightly touched his shoulder. What they don't prepare you for is how hard it is to reason a broken heart over someone wh
17.I stand inside your skeletal remains, a different heart beats against its breastplate, a different set of organs is sheltered by the ribcage. You wouldn't recognize it anymore, but it still feels like home.
That's the beauty of being left behind, though they never mention it. I can watch it all be moulded and shaped again, death and rebirth and whatnot. It's almost disturbingly beautiful, as if I became your protege, left to maintain the body you left behind, to feed it, water it, and ultimately grow to love it.
I never expected to turn into you, but as I leave this body, my body, behind, planting seeds for someone else to water and grow, I realize that I have. And I realize that in loving it, I grew to love you, clinging forever, to these old bones.
16.The library was burning down, and there was nothing I could do about it. The yellowed pages of our favorite stories caught fire so easily and formed smoke monsters that got caught in the ceiling and disappeared into the flames that lapped against the ceiling. In my watering eyes, I could see your body forged from smoke and, darling, I knew that our story had gone up in flames.
14.She was supposed to be at her grandmother's house right now. Her mother had worried about putting her on the train alone, but her father insisted that she would be fine. He used to do it all the time as a kid, the conductors always make sure that the kids get off at the right stop and they usually give them candy. Her parents' flight left at six in the morning, and they dropped her off for the five o'clock train. They kissed her on the head and told her that everything would be alright.
It was early in the morning, in fact, she had never been up this early before. She tried her best to stay awake on the train, but by the third stop, she was asleep. When the train reached its final destination, the train conductor woke her to get off. He helped her get her luggage from the rack, and led her off the train to look for her grandmother.
Blinking the sleepiness from her eyes, she looked around the station, but the familiar face of her grandmother was nowhere to be seen. She walked over to th
13.People will throw away the strangest things. Just yesterday I found a pair of nearly new baby slippers, several books, and a box of pasta that had never been opened (don't they know that this stuff never goes bad?). Usually I just throw this all into the back of my truck, I can only keep the really impressive things, otherwise my house would end up looking like a smaller version of the dump.
The problem is, I can't stop taking the things she throws out. Yes, I have yet to see her face in person, but I know so much about her already. She can cook beautifully, I've seen her leftovers, and she has been to so many places. Just last week she threw out a bunch of old, blank postcards from Venice and Rome. I always put her garbage can back up on the curb once I finish with it, she has yet to say anything, but I'm sure that she appreciates the gesture. Maybe I'll see her next Friday on the route. I'll be sure to wear my nicest uniform.
back then. | antonio fernandez carriedo
The Spaniard let out heavy sigh of distress. Two hours. He's been waiting for his date for two hours. Maybe more, but he doesn't really know — he lost track of time. What he was confident, however, was that he has waited for a long time. Otherwise his ass wouldn't be so sore right now. Antonio picked up his glass of water and sipped it, and then leaning back to his chair.
Maybe he wasn't ready for a relationship yet.
Maybe commitments.. aren't his thing.
A light buzz came off from his phone and sighing once more, he dug into his pocket and unlocked the screen to see a message from his date. The person who he hoped to share his future with — unfortunately not. Then again, was he even ready to be in a serious relationship? Was he even ready to share his story with someone else? He doesn't know anymore.
[Text] 11:39 PM: Hello! I'm so sorry that I couldn't come. I had work to do.
He frowned at the text. Antonio was conflicted whether he should beli
Valley's End RoadDo you ever wish you could un-see something?
It lay in pieces on the indigo pavement. Rain had washed away most of the blood, but what was left was brown and purple, and the exposed flesh, that rich interior muscle and ligature, was all pink and silver striation and shining through the varied grays of fur and fabric. A smell like dead fish wafted beneath everything.
My mind tried to reassemble it, like a grotesque jigsaw puzzle. That part of me was not working very well, being over-ridden by surging adrenaline, my thoughts drowned out by the hormonal roar in my ears. What I was looking at, what I wished I could un-see, made no sense. And it made me feel as though there were others, its brethren, its masters, some thing or things lurking behind the curtain of forest lining this isolated road.
I ran it often. Rarely after dark though. But I’d been certain my flashlight and my reflective armbands would see me home safely. I looked around and tried to get my beari
Why?"Why do you hang out with children so much? Doesn't it get annoying?"
"No, not really"
"Why? Why do you like them so much?"
"What's the reason most people tell you?"
"What's the answer you usually hear when you ask other people that question?"
"That they're small and adorable."
"That's a funny answer... puppies are small and adorable, kittens are small and adorable, even hedgehogs are small and adorable. So why hang out with loud kids when you can hang out with a small and adorable animal?"
"You're not answering my question."
"What do you think innocence is?"
"Innocent people don't know about the bad things in the world."
"Innocent people don't -act- on the bad things of the world. Whether they know about them or not. Children have a sort of forced innocence."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Have you ever seen a young child double-cross someone? Or lie and then not feel a single
The Game Player Challenges...Magic shows are not as popular on the television now as they used to be – not unless your name is David Blaine or Dynamo – but at one time they were the stalwarts of midweek television, and escape acts were a firm favourite. Nowadays, you find them on shows like Britain’s Got Talent, or in holiday parks, but on a recent show I saw a husband and wife act called The Carlisles – very good they were too.
And I should know – a few weeks previously I had visited them. Mister Carlisle is a successful writer, and my researches had suggested they were worth calling on. Those same researches had shown me, through the power of YouTube, just how good they were as well, so I made sure I went fully equipped.
It was a Sunday afternoon when I let myself into their house, and heard Mum and daughter talking. As I listened, it was clear that the ten year old was trying to persuade her mother she could be part of the act, if she learned her tricks, and
The Pyramid [17/100]A young girl trudges through the dust worn sand and clambers over the bricks of white stone, with pieces of its history flaking off. Higher she tries to climb the Great Pyramid but after a while, she can no longer go further and that is when she realizes that she is too high to make the climb back down.
Maybe it’s fear or maybe it’s just reluctance, but that girl sits down and decides instead to admire the view, hoping someone would save her.
Wooden stick clacks on stone and the girl turns to find an old man standing next to her, smiling softly.
“Do you mind if I join you?” the old man asks, tender and gruff.
The girl nods and the old man sits, his bones creaking into eternity.
“Sometimes,” the old man starts, “you just think you can achieve anything but half-way there, you run into problems. Ah, like you, I seem to not be able to continue any higher.”
“It’s too high,” the girl complains.
“Yes. Sometimes its
Maybe it isn'tFriends grew sick of me talking about the twins, how they had snub noses and liked bands with strange names, how they sat whispering all lesson in a language I couldn’t understand.
I watched them, mirror images against identical lockers. They spoke with one mouth, saw with one pair of eyes but I knew they had two hearts and two minds, that one hated me for calling him insecure, liked me for the way I spoke, that the other hardly noticed me leave the room.
We sat near each other often; I heard their secret language, the awkward syllables of bands with strange names scratched amongst hushed heavy words. From the corner of my eye I saw their snub noses scrunch up when the teacher spoke, watched one pair of eyes flit to mine. But their heads remained facing forward, almost perfect mirror images.
I told him he was insecure, he told me he was arrogant.
But he said that he liked poetry, that he liked the way I spoke and that seemed like enough.
Friends grew sick of me talking about the
IThis battle... It wasn't started by me, and it won't be won by me. My existence will merely be remembered as a name; a name like any other, recorded in a book filled with many other names who have fought just like I have and who have died just like I will. My importance is only a number; my actions are only a victory; my life is only a time that the darkness was kept at bay.
My fate has been sealed; my destiny has been decided. My entire existence is meant for one thing and one thing alone: To keep this world in balance and to protect those of light from the creatures of darkness. This is what I was born to do; this is what I am meant to do.
So, what would one such as I do if the balance of this world is thrown into disarray? I would try to correct it, of course, but what if the cause of the chaos is by one creature- not a creature of darkness, but one of light? What if that single creat
FFM XXIShe's always written down her dreams, except sometimes she can't remember them. She leaves a blank space in her journal, a blank hole in her memory.
It kills her to forget her dreams. It feels like she is slowly losing her memories, ones tucked away on the highest shelf in her mind, and it scares her that she can no longer reach it.
She's lost herself in the caverns of her mind, spaces created for the lost dreams. Caverns that will always remain empty.
But she isn't losing her memory. She isn't even growing old yet.
She creates caverns and journals for her dreams. But soon, there are more empty spaces than
filled ones, her memory falters and her imagination slows.
And then they are all empty. Her dreams, her journal, her mind.
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