hand covers my mouth. No longer wearing shades‚ I can now see Paul’s face smiling a devil’s grin at me. One of his eye sockets is a horrible‚ gaping hole. I focus on the other one and instantly regret it when I see the malice there. “How are you‚ my little siren?” His laugh is low and malicious as I start to struggle in his grasp. “Thought you were going to get away that easy? Well‚ you thought wrong. Now that the compound has moved to police headquarters‚ there can’t be any loose ends. This means that
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and drink again. My accursed soul is weighted with the death of an angel so pure and heavenly. I drink to erase the bloody trail left by the sins of my past‚ yet the memories I’ve kept locked in the shadows of my heart begin to re emerge. The little darling’s death though I admit I have committed‚ was not in its entirety my fault. I come from a line of admired and notable aristocracy‚ where fine wine runs through my throat as easily as the blood in my veins. That grim night I was intoxicated
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Confederate lines‚ trying to stay out of sight. The town‚ the town. I thought. What side was he on? I thought. The soldier? It was near-impossible to tell - his uniform had been too bloodied‚ and the adrenaline of the current situation had kept me from the little details. The coat color - it could determine a lot. Union or Confederate? I certainly hoped for the former‚ of course. I would not want to aid the side that was all gung ho for slavery and racism. Focus. I thought. A paved dirt road led the way to
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Creative Creation Story The universe that existed was unattainable by reasoning‚ unperceived‚ unjudged‚ peaceful and quiet. In this empty place the goddess Inu’s baby brother‚ Hugo‚ cried‚ piercing the silence. Inu sighed and with that breath‚ the light and dark separated. Hugo stopped crying. Noticing she had his attention she formed a watery ball‚ calling it earth and above it she made the sky. She filled the night sky with the guardian moon and his gleaming stars and the day sky with a radiant
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Analyzation of Two Poems Melinda Polom September 12‚ 2013 I will first be giving to you‚ my analyzation of the short poem‚ titled‚ "First Fig"‚ written by author‚ Edna St. Vincent Millay‚ who was born in the year of 1892‚ and died in the year of 1950. I am at first‚ making the assumption that‚ when the author is speaking about a candle‚ which "burns at both ends"‚ that she must be comparing a candle‚ and the "light that it gives out”‚ using the candle‚ as a symbol‚ or as a “representative”
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The day arrived. The day I have been dreading for weeks. I knew that today I would have to deal with unwanted tears and emotions of sadness and emptiness running freely throughout my body. Today was the day that everything changed and the whole world around me would collapse. This was the day that I would have to travel 6209.2km across the world. To a place that is foreign and unknown to me but was once a place I used to call home. It was 6:09am in Bahrain. I watched as the large glowing sphere
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Descriptive Writing – The forest. [pic] A crisp winter morning and there was a frosty chill in the air. A sweet surrendering scent of the moist morning dew that cascades all around the sublime forest. The mixed cool autumn leaves from the tall trees lay scattered on the forest floor; they were in the motion of turning a brittle brown. There was the sound of shattered glass that emphasised the leaves being crunched‚ as if you were to step on them‚ pushing their papery remains deep into the
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“Attended many dances as a teen. I’m shocked I can still remember any of it‚” he smiles. Barba’s face was so close to his and how he wanted to kiss him more than ever. It took a lot for him to resist the notion. “Just like riding a bicycle‚” Barba jokes. Carisi thinks to himself‚ “I’d like to ride you like a bicycle.” “Something wrong?” Barba stares at him. Carisi was so glad he was unable to hear the inappropriate thoughts going on in his head. “No‚ nothing‚” he shakes his head and soon the
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The Receipt He stroked his filthy‚ matted hair as he clutched the plastic bag to his chest‚ careful not to spill any of its contents. His eyes darted across the emptied parking lot‚ careful and aware. His stomach ached; he was in no shape to fight for his belongings. He had lost enough lately. He had crossed the lot in a beeline towards the edge of the stores‚ turning the corner and clinging to the walls of the building as a drizzle of rain begun. The air was humid and produced a metallic aroma
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Lying in bed‚ staring at the ceiling‚ sensing the minutes tick by for what seemed like the hundredth night in a row; Cassie knew the feeling well. Every few minutes or so her eyes would flick over to the glowing red numbers as they crawled towards the time her alarm would go off‚ signalling a new day. The demonic red numbers switched to 3:00 am; the time for sleep fell to four hours. Cassie forced an inhale‚ and then breathed out slowly. It had been hours since she had persuaded herself to lie down
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