Though scorching‚ her hands did not react‚ the skull of her mate‚ her lover‚ her friend in life. His hand reached into the wicker basket removed two large red stones‚ placed a stone in each of the skull’s eye sockets. They began to glow‚ intensifying until they became fiery red staring into her eyes and soul. She breathes in the fragrance of incense and that of the cauldron’s brew‚ most pleasurable among fragrances her mate’s blood covering her body in its most natural state. She brought it to her
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arrived into the living room she didn’t see him at first. Then she heard him in the kitchen. She went to inform him she was ready. He had changed clothes himself. He had on a fitted black shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. It all accentuated his body…which was ridiculous.
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The title of the story "The Lottery‚” by Shirley Jackson is ironic. By only reading the title of this story the reader would assume that someone is going to win something good. But‚ the opposite of that is actually the true part‚ because the author‚ Shirley Jackson Makes it seems like it is just another one of those regular days in the village. But it is not. One way that Shirley Jackson proves that some of her story is written with irony is what kind of traditions they have. They make traditions
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announcing that "Fire can not melt metal" now is telling the world what she would do with her ‘flow’ if she wasn’t a dried up old prune. O’Donnell said she would like to do this to pro-lifers: “I’d like to take my period blood I no longer have and write‚ ‘you’re all assholes.’ I’d like to smear it all over some people’s faces.” Additionally‚ during the interview with Hutt‚ she said that London Marathoner Kiran Ganhi’s decision to run without a tampon while menstruating is a critical demonstration
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Susie had slapped Aaron Brooks when he introduced her to the game Mao. It was at one of those dumb house parties that were full of freshman girls and upperclassmen guys. (She was one of the freshman girls‚ and hadn’t learned to avoid them yet.) She’d had three gin-and-tonics and Aaron kept staring at her boobs‚ so she only felt a little sorry about slapping him at the time. (And if he was trying to sleep with her‚ introducing her to an incredibly frustrating card game was the wrong way to go about
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Étienne‚ the butler‚ finally announced that dinner was served. We put down our drinks‚ and cheered the news which brought us closer to the long awaited moment to savor the “saumon a la mayonnaise’‚ specialty of Mélanie la cuisinière. In the middle of the agitation‚ I was approached by the Baron de Valfort to escort Dame Irène Chaboix. I was glad to do it. I went over to the Diva right away‚ and offered her my arm‚ which she accepted with the grandiloquence of stage actors. Like most old artists
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the ground‚’ Nero observes to SH as they are being bundled ever further down a winding tunnel. From somewhere the MC’s voice‚ ‘Look‚ we wanted some razz-matazz out there tonight‚ but things are not really working out. You’ve at least discovered that Story Hunter is not dead meat.’ With frustration shining through in voice SH complains‚ ‘Yeah‚ it is all well and good to have found me‚ but now we have lost Buiteboer to the netherworld‚ it seems.’ The MC sounds unconcerned about Buiteboer’s whereabouts
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pinkish-red one said calmly. “A bear?!” the tall‚ thin one and short round purple gems shouted in unison. “What if it hurts us? What if it hurts Steven?!” the thin one shouted back. Again with the steven? Whats up with him? Is he special or something? Soda thought. The branch that soda was on started to crack more. She tried with all her might to not let it fall‚ she even used her powers to attempt to hold it up; but alas‚ her trying cut short‚ and she fell to the ground. Fast. “ACK!” The blue gem shouted
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that perpetually polluted the air faded. He was swallowed by sanctified silence. Even as his eyes struggled to adjust to the white sterility of the surgical floor‚ Jian felt the tension seep from his body. He was home. He waited as he had at every appointment‚ month after month‚ year
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For the sake of anonymity I’ll keep some names private‚ and call myself Beowulf. My story happened around two years ago‚ I was 26 years old when my family and I had noticed that my grandmother was starting to forget our names‚ couldn’t recall certain events‚ and at times seemed in a daze and lost from her state of mind‚ completely forgetting where she was in that moment. This was followed by her stumbling around the house and falling a few times. One time it got to the point where she fell down
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