With his head laid low‚ tucked in his strained knees‚ Virgil’s mind drowned in negativity. Memories of him and the woman who was meant to be his wife plunged him into deep remorse. Her chocolate brown eyes‚ although basic‚ seemed like the world to him. They were in his world. Whenever he looked at them‚ he imagined them on his almost-born daughter‚ Lethabo. They had settled on the name two weeks after Rachel told him she was pregnant. “What if we named her after your umakhulu‚ Nkosi?” Rachel asked
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“They move in a pattern‚ like circular‚ you know?” I don’t understand it‚ but I see for myself that he’s telling the truth when I get a knock on my door‚ 2.45am in the morning‚ the same day he predicts an arrival. Before I had arrived on to the island‚ I had an unshakable image of the locals in Tioman. I knew that poaching was a big reason for the decline of sea turtle populations‚ and I blamed them
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Tonight was like any other night Jezebel and Daemon are in the living room playing their favorite game Tekken. They have been living together for the past 2 years since they both go to the same college‚ SCAD. They have known each other since high school when they were in the same homeroom class. They became fast friends. Most would say that they were joined at the hip‚ but they had other friends that they hung out with. Once they found out they were going to the same college then it only made sense
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A howling cry heard down the hall is where it started. My rosy cheeks stir as my mother holds me close to her warm breasts. The echo of footsteps approach the oversized white doors and everyone stares awaiting the next new father‚ hoping he’s a part of their family. “She’s here‚ Sacha’s here!” my father shouts. I am Sacha Desiree Rivera and that was the last time I saw my father. I guess it is all fun and glorious before the baby is born but when it is time to roll up the sleeves my father could
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When I was only 4 years old‚ my mom died from leukemia. At that time‚ my dad still lived with us. He raised me until I was 6 years old‚ then got re-married and decided he didn’t want to take care of me anymore. His wife never liked me‚ which might be the reason why he left me after he got re-married. He sent me to an orphanage and I’ve never seen him again. I’m fine‚ I don’t need him. What I need is a new family. A family who will love me and never leave me. But I’ve been here for 5 years now‚ how
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Hello! Before you start reading this‚ I’d just like you to understand that I really know nothing about the UK at all. I did minimal research‚ but most of this story is probably not going to be accurate at all‚ so please don’t correct any mistakes that I’ll probably make! Also‚ I’d like you to keep in mind that this is completely fictional‚ and I’ve made literally almost everything up on my own. Thank you and I hope you enjoy the story :) "I’m gonna miss you so much. Can’t I just come along with
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to appreciate their shortcomings to find the freedom that exist at the top. Getting there isn’t easy; the only way up are stairs as endless as the building. Many people don’t make it‚ but up there‚ there’s a plaque with my name on it. So I open the doors and begin my journey upwards. It’s not long before I feel like giving up. Like that time I almost gave up on everything because I wasn’t sure I would be okay. I’m in a hospital bed that day. The eye surgeon comes in and tell my mother‚ “It’s time.”
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*** Early the following morning‚ there was a loud knock on Antonio’s door. He wondered if he should be expecting a call. He had just sat down for a modest breakfast. Could this be any connection with his killing of Pedro’s deputy? Had Pedro’s brethren somehow caught up with him? Antonio would take no chances and loaded his snaplock. He then gingerly went to the door and quickly opened it and pointed his gun at anyone standing there. A man in a battered tricorne hat
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Grabbing the pot of homemade spaghetti sauce that I’d carefully slaved over all day‚ he whacked it on the hot plate‚ sending a stream of sauce skywards that splattered the ceiling. Smashing his fist through the wall‚ he left the house‚ slamming the door behind him. During our year of courtship‚ he never once showed this dark side. Yet once we married‚ his temper reared its ugly head. The first time he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me like a salt shaker I warned him that if he
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I can see it in their movements- her fingertips lingering on his arm‚ his eyes tracing the contours of her face‚ the way they walk leaning in towards one another‚ as close as they can be without touching. I can hear it in their voices- her tone‚ his inflection‚ the way they speak in unison‚ hardly acknowledging it‚ as though it’s a common occurrence. I can practically smell it on them- the stench of it clings to their clothes‚ seeps from their pores‚ staining the air around them with its toxicity
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