Tatum woke up to the familiar sounds of crystal clear waves crashing on to the plush‚ silky white sand. The warm Pacific breeze made the green palms sway against his window. He looked outside‚ admiring the perfect Maui day. Sun shining‚ not unbearably hot‚ but not too cool. Snapping out of his daydream‚ Tatum realized he had to get ready for training. Tatum frantically darted around the house to find everything he needed. He practically tripped over his dog‚ Reef. "Oh gosh. Sorry‚ Reef‚" Tatum
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amazing wonders. Greater than even the Crimson Knights power itself I’m sure." He looked at me and then smiled. "That’s true‚ there has to be something bigger. Bigger‚ than the Crimson Knight. I’ve thought about it since Father started telling us the stories‚" He took a deep breath‚ "But enough of that‚ let’s go meet up with the others shall we?" We walked to the social area. We seen everyone talking‚ so we causally walked up to them. "Tai! You killed it out there‚ that upwards strike really caught him
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it controls your actions. Hate ruins your life. It makes you do things you would not otherwise do. It obliterates your happiness‚ and any light you could see. Hate is an awful thing for someone to meet and I wish I never had. I want to tell you the story of how I met hate‚ and how I somehow managed to power through it. It all started a long time ago‚ when I was about six or seven. I lived in North Carolina‚ and I would come visit my family here‚ in South Carolina. I was young‚ so of course‚ I did not
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Have you ever lived the life of a spoiled rich kid? A kid who can get anything he needs or wants at a simple snap of a finger? Taylor grew up a rich kid‚ and is still living the lavish life. Although Taylor can have any exquisite thing he wants‚ he is still having trouble another friend. Don’t get Taylor wrong‚ he does have one friend by the name of Wojak. Wojak is the person Taylor goes to‚ to not feel unaccompanied. Taylor and Wojak’s lives are extremely similar. They both attend the most prestigious
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It was another day in the city I love. Baltimore. Like any other resplendent city in all of the states. Baltimore has been my only home for years. However‚ today in Baltimore something felt different. “Ahhh…‚” I yawned and moaned as I tried to free myself from my bed sheets. I opened the shutters of the windows to look outside the early sunlight began to creep out as all livelihood of the distant inner city began to awake. “Will‚ it is time to wake up‚” shouted Will’s mother above the staircases
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In late September after Rico‚ a low level crack dealer in North Las Vegas‚ was picked up on charges‚ he was asked why he was now dealing on the street. He said someone was renovating the old homeless shelter and the tweekers who normally ruled the place were all gone. * * * The sheriff looked at the picture attached to the missing person’s report. Carmel was a beauty queen. Her homecoming picture showed the blonde was tall and shapely‚ with a youthful innocence despite the fact that the man next
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Clang! A mountain of falling goblets and dirty silver platters pierces my ear drums and I instantly wake. As the pungent odor of boar wafts through the air and my eye catches a beam of the mid-morning sun‚ I realize that I failed to return from the mead hall. That could prove to be a costly mistake. “This isn’t an inn‚ Cathasach‚” said Judoc‚ my friend‚ the hall’s keeper and‚ fortunately‚ Amoorhi’s finest chef. “Have clemency‚ brother! I am still weary from last evening’s battle against the
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My life begins here in Brownsville‚ Texas. However‚ I was only there from the beginning when I was a newborn before going back to Matamoros‚ Tamaulipas where my family had their own house. My mom wanted to have me in the U.S. because people had told her that there were far more opportunities over here. Technically‚ these two cities have become my two homes. I do miss Matamoros‚ Tamaulipas because that’s where I spend most of my childhood until I was seven years old. Then we had to return back to
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Howardsville‚ a quaint little city‚ nestled in the foothills of the Putney Mountains located forty miles southwest of Charleston‚ West Virginia‚ had its own dark history. Having lived his entire life in the two–story house on the outskirts of town‚ Ernest Cassidy was familiar with the myths‚ legends‚ and lies about his city and was always quick to defend it. The mysteries began years earlier when Dr. Ronald Hackney; a surgeon at General Hospital in Charleston came up missing. One morning‚ he didn’t
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The graveyard was dark and shadowed; tulips lined the cobblestone pathway that led to the mausoleum‚ looming darkly against the feeble moon. I strode through the graveyard‚ glancing nervously around at the shadows that lay thick upon the graves like a shroud. Tulips‚ protruding like withered stakes from the ground‚ lined the pathway‚ and I could smell their sickly-sweet odor as I approached the mausoleum‚ looming above me like a forbidding monument to the feeble moon above. “Rachel!” I cried out
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