‘twas the night before hike-mas. I had begrudgingly agreed to go to bed before 10‚ even though I insisted that I could stay up later and still be okay in the morning. I was all packed. I had packed plenty of water‚ water‚ water‚ and even more water. I had snacks. I had lots of sunscreen on‚ and lots of sunscreen in my backpack‚ although there’s only so much sunscreen can do. I had anxiety about a couple of things. One of those things was my fear of snakes‚ and the other was my fear of heights. I
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Budi is in a hurry. His breath is heavy. Muttering to himself‚ he runs. The path was dark and the evening wind blowing against him‚ giving him a chill. He can hear the sound of crickets echoing through the jungle‚ the wild birds calling each other with eerie tone and leaves brushed by the wind giving off whispers. None of that bothers him. He is on a mission. The situation has taken a turn for the worst. He is out of options. Although common‚ dark arts are not something to be taken lightly. He desperately
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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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anymore‚ the civilization was just crashing and reshaping by nature. I could’ve stay longer in this world‚ but I did want to‚ my craving by going back to home was greater than my curiosity. By thinking about the days that I’d spend‚ I almost left about two weeks. It was long enough to think that I’m dead‚ I started to worry about my surroundings. People‚ especially my mom could think that I’m dead by now‚ and as well as my friend Clark too. My mind was messy‚ I couldn’t clean it up; It became messy again
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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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Betrayal of Freedom Here I am again; working for another rich family to do their labour. I hate having no freedom. I have been owned by different rich families ever since I was born. I am now 16‚ 17 in a month‚ I think. I kind of lose track. I never met my parents. They were slaves for other folks so I guess I won’t ever get to meet them. I don’t get jealous of the rich families though. They got no respect; the young spoilt‚ spiteful children treat me like a piece of shit on their shoe. I can’t do
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Gazing into the landscape of Berlin‚ I sit propped up by concrete rubble. With my sentry duty over‚ I smother my cigarette and begin wading through remains of previous battles to get back to camp. Inside the camp the atmosphere was grim‚ full of depression and malice. There were bodies laying in piles on the sides of the street. Empty bullet shells scattered everywhere. Blood stained pavement as far as the eye could see. The camp was far from welcoming. After being awake for 10 hours I rest my head
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Even though she was too young to recall it all‚ Ayala could vaguely remember the happier times when her Master’s eldest son and his six handsome brothers came to visit. There was always food galore and plenty of noise and chatter to go along with it. They were somewhat of a rowdy crew and whenever all seven boys and three girls got together‚ she’d find herself staying up half the night listening in on their wild and elaborate tales. She was convinced her Master’s daughters were as equally amusing
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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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Jen saw the dogs first‚ their short muscular bodies scudding along the pavement like torpedoes. The Brothers and their men came after‚ followed by the girl and the fat woman. The shoppers and the tourists sensed the change in the atmosphere and parted instinctively‚ allowing them to pass. Jen hung back‚ keeping close to the buildings. Daniel and Joseph Avery were dangerous; catch their eye‚ come into their orbit‚ and you would become their victim. They stalked the streets like warlords‚ their dogs
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