In The Darkest Of Moments, These People Responded In The Most Beautiful Ways

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In The Darkest Of Moments, These People Responded In The Most Beautiful Ways
In The Darkest Of Moments, These People Responded In The Most Beautiful Ways

In dealing with the loss of a loved one, perhaps the only remedy for those empty feelings is honoring their lives by helping them find peace in their final moments.

As the people in the stories below faced death, they wished only for their lives to be celebrated in a special way — by loving, by committing a selfless act, by having fun.

Read on to see how family, friends and communities channeled their grief into beautiful gestures, serving as a tribute to their loved ones in their final days.
1. This 8-year-old girl wanted to hear Christmas carolers one last time before she died. Ten thousand people showed up to grant her wish.

laney brown

Laney Brown was diagnosed in 2013 with acute myeloid leukemia, a rare form of cancer, at just eight years old. The doctors told her family that her blood was 70 percent cancer cells and she would not survive much longer. Laney’s dying wish was to meet singer Taylor Swift and hear Christmas carolers outside her house. On a Friday night, the pop star fulfilled the request and spoke to Brown via video chat.

That alone might have been enough of a final thrill for the Laney. But on Saturday night, people began showing up to her house. Not in the tens or in the hundreds —10,000 people gathered to sing a dying girl Christmas carols, taking a little time out of their own lives to enrich a life that was not going to be around for much longer. Laney died just a few days later on Christmas morning. But judging from the above photo posted to Facebook during the caroling, it’s a safe bet she heard the love these people were expressing for her loud and clear.
2. A dying wife left this loving, emotional letter to her husband and children — and to her husband’s future family.

brenda schmitz letter

After being diagnosed with ovarian cancer in January of 2011, Brenda Schmitz was told she would only have months to live, leaving a husband and four sons behind. She wrote a letter to her family and arranged with a friend to have it delivered posthumously, if and when her husband found a new love. Sadly, Schmitz passed in September of that same year, and her family tried to move on as best they could. Her husband David eventually went on to meet a new woman, and two years after his wife’s death, David asked Jayne Abraham to marry him. Brenda’s friend at last delivered her letter to a local radio station and they presented it to David as part of an ongoing Christmas Wish series.

In it, Brenda writes, “My reason for writing is this. I have a wish. I have a wish for David, the boys, and the woman and her family if she has kids also. I want them to know I love them very much.”

Watch the video of the full letter being read to David here. A word of warning: While extremely touching, it may be very tough to watch for some. But it is an absolute testament to the amazing and selfless person Brenda Schmitz was.
3. This 79-year-old Marine was discharged for being gay years ago. He had one final request before he died: to be vindicated by the US military.

hal faulkner
(Photo via Facebook)

In 1956, after being outed to the military, Hal Faulkner was discharged from service by his commanding officer. Despite having a fairly impeccable record with no significant blemishes, Faulkner’s discharge was labeled “other than honorable.” Clearly the victim of discrimination, the label haunted Faulkner for over 50 years.

At 79, Faulkner was diagnosed with late stage cancer and had just six months to live. He decided that his final wish in life was to have those words stricken from his record. With “don’t ask, don’t tell” gone, this was a possibility, but with Faulkner’s time running out, his relatives had to race to have his record changed.

Finally in January, in a small ceremony at his Fort Lauderdale home that included his family, lawyer and some fellow Marines, Faulkner was presented a letter from the military assuring him that his record would be restored to show that he was discharged honorably. Faulkner died January 14th, just a few weeks later, at last vindicated, free from a painful disease, and able to rest peacefully knowing that his legacy would be truly his.

4. Man’s last wish was to leave an astounding tip — “$500 on a f****** pizza,” to be exact.

aaron collins tip

Pure and simple, Aaron Collins’ dying wish was that his family go to a restaurant, order a pizza, and leave an amazing tip. “Leave an awesome tip (and I don’t mean 25%. I mean $500 on a f****** pizza) for a waiter or waitress,” Collins wrote to his family before his death last year. And after he passed, Collins’ family did exactly that. Understandably, the waitress was taken aback and very touched by the gesture.

The video of the $500 tip did so well that the Collins family set up a tribute website to give out more $500 tips in Aaron’s name. According to the website, ninety seven such tips have been given out all across the country. These are “awesome” tips not just in their size, but also in the scope of what it probably means to the employees of an industry known for being rather underpaid.
5. A firefighter’s firehouse brothers gave him one last ride on the big red truck.

fred broyles firefighter

Eight years ago, Newport News, Va. firefighter Fred Broyles left work to go to the doctor, where he found that he had cancer. He never went back to work again. And after eight years, Broyles was losing his battle to cancer and realized he’d never gotten to enjoy one last ride on a firetruck. So his firefighting brothers stepped in to grant him that dying wish in June of 2013. Broyles died peacefully in his home just four days later, but he got to ride in that fire truck one last time.
6. A little girl wanted only to drive in a pink Lamborghini with “Top Gear” host Richard Hammond.

emilia lamborghini

Two years after suffering a bout with pneumonia, a British child named Emilia Palmer was diagnosed with a rare lung condition at just eight years old. Emilia’s last wish, organized by the Rays Of Sunshine charity group, was to ride in a pink Lamborghini with TV host Richard Hammond of Britain’s hugely popular car show “Top Gear.”

A Lamborghini dealer provided the sports car and allowed it to be temporarily painted a bright pink. Hammond then picked up Emilia in the flashy Lamborghini — after she was let out of the hospital just for the occasion — and the two went for a spin. Sadly, Emilia died a few weeks later in October 2013, but not before seeing her final wish come to life.
7. This girl wanted to see “Up” before she passed, so Pixar sent her a DVD of the film before anyone else could get one.

colby curtin up

Ten-year-old Colby Curtin was diagnosed with a rare form of vascular cancer in late 2005. After three years of battling, Colby was told she didn’t have much time left to live. Curtin’s dying wish was to see Pixar’s new film, “Up,” which had just come to theaters. Unfortunately, Colby was too ill even to go out to a theater, so a close family friend worked tirelessly to get a hold of Disney or Pixar officials to see if something could be done. The people at Pixar heard the request and quickly flew an employee to Curtin’s Huntington Beach home with a special DVD copy of “Up.” Colby passed away in June 2009, just seven hours after watching the film with her family.
8. A teenager got dying wish to marry the sweetheart who cared for her.

leslie rivera wedding

Leslie Rivera was just 18 last April when she was diagnosed with a uniquely difficult to treat form of leukemia. Throughout her treatment, she was watched over and cared for by her boyfriend Daniel. Knowing that she did not have long, Rivera had one last request: to marry Daniel, the love of her far too short life.

She asked for the help of the Make-A-Wish foundation, which knew they needed to act fast given Rivera’s condition. They reached out to celebrity wedding planner David Tutera. Tutera and his team recruited vendors and volunteers who provided everything for Rivera’s special day. That day finally came on November 21, when friends and family joined Leslie and Daniel to celebrate their lives together.

Rivera lost her battle with leukemia in December. Her family and, of course, loving husband were by her side. Tragic as it was, we can perhaps take solace in the happiness and joy Leslie received and the special moment she got to share with her high school sweetheart and husband.
9. A group of Star Wars fans built a custom R2 droid to watch over a terminally ill little girl while she slept.

katie johnson r2kt

(Left to right) Katie hugs her new R2 droid. R2-KT visits a sick child in the hospital.
 

Albin Johnson is the founder of 501st Legion, a group of Star Wars fans who craft costumes from the film, as well as promote charity and volunteer work. When Johnson’s 6-year-old daughter Katie fell ill to terminal cancer in November of 2004, fellow Star Wars group R2 Builders jumped into action. They gathered donated parts from all over the globe and over the course of a few months, built a very special R2 droid. R2-KT watched over Katie while she slept and battled the disease, and remained with her even in the final days.

Katie died in August 2005, but her astromech droid R2-KT lives on in her name. R2-KT attends comic conventions, appears at charity events and visits sick children in hospitals. Katie’s story was so inspiring that Hasbro made her droid into an action figure and it was even featured in “The Clone Wars” animated series.
10. A 9-year-old wanted to help developing countries without water. After tragedy struck, strangers donated over $1 million in her name.

rachel beckwith

In 2011, instead of buying gifts for her 9th birthday, Rachel Beckwith asked people to instead donate to a charity that helps provide clean water to third world countries. She only raised $220, short of her $300 goal, but she planned on trying again on her next birthday. A month later, however, Beckwith was involved in a 14-vehicle accident near her home of Bellevue, Wash., Beckwith. She died in July after being on life support for three days.

When word of Rachel’s death and her selfless charity push spread, groups sprung into action and donations poured in. Within a few days, more than $130,000 was raised. That was in 2011, but as of today, more than one million dollars has been raised to provide clean water to developing nations, all because of one amazing 9-year-old named Rachel Beckwith.
11. A homeless man wanted to see his old canine friend one last time before he died. The community made his wish come true.

kevin mcclain yurt

In May 2011, Kevin McClain, 57, discovered that he had terminal lung cancer. Dying and in hospice care, he had one last request before he passed away. For years, McClain had lived in his car with his beloved dog Yurt. When he was hospitalized, Yurt was taken from him and given to an animal shelter. McClain very much wanted to see his old companion again. With the help of the community, Yurt was located and reunited with her former owner. The dog recognized McClain instantly and the two bonded together, just like before. McClain passed away shortly after the reunion, but he’d be happy to know his beloved dog Yurt was adopted and is being cared for by Kate and Eric Ung, a couple who quickly considered him part of the family.
12. This dying mother wished to see her son graduate, so in her final days they brought the whole graduation to her.

jennifer linnabary son graduation

Jennifer Linnabary was diagnosed with cancer in 2009, and though she had lived longer than many thought possible — long enough to see her oldest son get married — she was struggling with kidney and heart failure and had only a few days left at best.For her final wish, Linnabary wanted to see her youngest son, Ben, graduate from high school. Linnabary was previously known for starting Project SEARCH, a program that helps the developmentally disabled get jobs. Linnabary was used to helping others, but now she needed help.

Family and friends went to work and within a few hours on a Saturday afternoon in February 2013, the school’s superintendent and principal, along with family and friends, gathered in Linnabary’s hospital room. Ben wore his cap and gown and was presented his diploma by school officials. Linnabary was so weak she wasn’t able to physically open her eyes to see, but her children say she knew what was happening.Linnabary died the next day at the age of 52 in her hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio.

Linnabary’s Project SEARCH now has sites in nearly all 50 states, which means her legacy of helping others will live on.

Article Source: Huffington Post

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81 COMMENTS

  1. For an English assignment, I have to choose from a list of books. I’m thirteen years old (in eighth grade), but my school’s standards are pretty high. Here’s the list (it’s REALLY long!):

    James Agee — A Death in the Family
    Maya Angelou — I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
    Jane Austen — Pride and Prejudice (I don’t really want to read this one)
    James Baldwin — Go Tell It on the Mountain
    Hal G. Borland — When the Legends Die
    Ray Bradbury — Fahrenheit 451
    Ray Bradbury — The Martian Chronicles
    Charlotte Bronte — Jane Eyre
    Emily Bronte — Wuthering Heights
    Dee Brown — Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
    Pearl Buck — The Good Earth
    Willa Cather — My Antonia
    Willa Cather — Death Comes for the Archbishop
    Miguel de Cervantes — Don Quixote
    Wilkie Collins — The Moonstone
    Joseph Conrad — Heart of Darkness
    James Fenimore Cooper — The Last of the Mohicans
    Robert Cormier — The Chocolate War
    Stephen Crane — The Red Badge of Courage
    Daniel Defoe — Robinson Crusoe
    Charles Dickens — A Tale of Two Cities
    Charles Dickens — Great Expectations
    Charles Dickens — David Copperfield
    Charles Dickens — Oliver Twist (probably not going to read this one; people told me it was hard)
    Michael Dorris — A Yellow Raft in Blue Water
    Fyodor Dostoyevsky — Crime and Punishment
    Sir Arthur Conan Doyle — The Complete Sherlock Holmes
    Theodore Dreiser — An American Tragedy
    Daphne Du Maurier — Rebecca
    George Eliot — The Mill on the Floss
    Ralph Ellison — Invisible Man
    William Faulkner — As I Lay Dying
    F. Scott Fitzgerald — The Great Gatsby
    Ernest Gaines — The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman
    Joanne Greenburg — I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
    Thomas Hardy — The Return of the Native
    Thomas Hardy — Far From the Maddening Crowd
    Nathaniel Hawthorne — The Scarlet Letter
    Joseph Heller — Catch-22
    Ernest Hemingway — A Farewell to Arms
    Ernest Hemingway — For Whom the Bell Tolls
    Ernest Hemingway — The Sun Also Rises
    Frank Herbert — Dune
    John Hersey — A Bell for Adano
    Victor Hugo — The Hunchback of Notre Dame
    Victor Hugo — Les Miserables
    Aldous Huxley — Brave New World
    Helen Keller — The Story of My Life (I’m interested in this book)
    Daniel Keyes — Flowers for Algernon
    Rudyard Kipling — Kim
    John Knowles — A Separate Peace
    Jerzy Kosinski — The Painted Bird
    Herman Melville — Moby Dick
    Margaret Mitchell — Gone With the Wind
    George Orwell — Animal Farm
    George Orwell — 1984
    Alan Paton — Cry the Beloved Country
    Sylvia Plath — The Bell Jar
    Chaim Potok — The Chosen
    Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings — The Yearling
    William Saroyan — The Human Comedy
    Sir Walter Scott — Ivanhoe
    Mary Shelley — Frankenstein
    John Steinbeck — The Grapes of Wrath
    Robert Louis Stevenson — Treasure Island
    Robert Louis Stevenson — The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (don’t really want to read this)
    Robert Louis Stevenson — Kidnapped
    Bram Stoker — Dracula
    Harriet Beecher Stowe — Uncle Tom’s Cabin
    Jonathan Swift — Gulliver’s Travels
    Amy Tan — The Joy Luck Club
    Mark Twain — The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (most likely NOT reading this; I disliked Tom Sawyer)
    Robert Penn Warren — All the King’s Men
    H. G. Wells — The Time Machine
    Richard Wright — Native Son

    I know it’s a lot to ask for, but if you could look at some of these titles, and if you’ve read any of them, could you just let me know what the level of difficulty is? I don’t need to know what it’s about or anything. I’d also like to know how long the book is, but it’s okay if you don’t include that. Also, if you have an opinion on what you think I might like best (as an eighth grader), please please please include that!

    Thank you SO SO SO much!

  2. I think this story is very sad.. It made me cry… The story is called : Ugly.
    Here’s the story:
    Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat.
    Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.
    The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.
    To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a hole.
    He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time,
    and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.
    Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck,
    and even his shoulders.Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction.
    “That’s one UGLY cat!!!”
    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down,
    squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.
    Ugly always had the same reaction.
    If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit.
    If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.
    Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands,
    begging for their love.If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt,
    earrings, whatever he could find.
    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled.
    I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was
    almost at an end. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping,
    and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.
    Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying,
    was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head,
    then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring
    .
    Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection,
    perhaps some compassion.
    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen.
    Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way.
    Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards,
    thinking about how one scarred,
    deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit,
    to love so totally and truly.
    I’m not sure if it’s true, I just found it on a website. But every time I read this, I cry… I’m crying right now.. :/ It touches my heart everytime…

  3. She has been telling me she wanted to pose nude for her art class, i agreed to it because i wanted to make her happy. Yesterday, i went to this session with her. The photographer had her standing up on this one mat. Then the male model comes out and he hugs her from behind. But the male model was holding her breast with his hands, and standing behind her. On the next pose, the photographer had her lay on this one bed. The male model was on top of my wife, and you could see her breast pressed up against his chest. Also you could see the male models erection close to my wife vagina. It was touching it in certain instances, but it never went inside her. Also, after that final pose was finished, i saw my wife grab a towel and she started to wipe his c u m off her stomach. But that was the last straw for me. I couldn’t even look at my wife the same anymore.

    After the session ended, they both went into there private room and got dressed. My wife kissed me and told me thanks for coming. Then she held my arm and walked out with me to the car, and she made me dinner. She catered to me that whole night, she cooked my favorite meal. Also, she did all my favorite things during sex that night. But I am still mad at what happened, i appreciate my wife for doing all that for me. I can’t get it off of my mind, did my wife basically cheat on me. The guys erection was on her body a lot for the second pose.

  4. What do you think she is referring to? Anything? HELP!

    Of the two dogs the car hit, one, two, while we were talking, and thinking about
    how to change each
    other’s
    mind, the other people’s
    survived – dark spot near the front
    fender just hair blowing in low wind, a spot all wind’s, then
    a stir in the ribs and everything’s rising slow-motion up from the tight small shoulders, the
    chest, the
    dragging hind end of itself on the dirt
    road as if sewing a new strap
    back
    on, dragging, a long
    moment, then the
    division occurs and the wide perishing shrinks and the legs
    are four again and
    up. Not ours. Ours
    is placed by gravity on the far bank, as if an as yet unbuilt unimagined house on the
    empty field into which
    one peers past mist
    wondering how will or
    concentration or want alone will bring the as-yet-not thing into view. What will it take to
    build the
    thing? The not yet, not anymore, not
    again? That. Wouldn’t the beautiful field be best left
    alone? unfilled? No. Now the children are folding
    over it and sound
    is restored and it is the only human
    world, something perished on the road, it was its turn, you have your turn says the road I
    stare blankly
    at, white dust,
    thinking there are words now
    that must take the
    place of this
    creature, and I
    am at the point in the road where I, who will have lived, no matter how many thousands
    of years in the future come, if they come,
    even if there are no more humans then or they have become unrecognisable, I,
    even when no rain will have come down
    in the memory of generations
    so they think the story of such an element is one of the myths, the empty
    myths, I still will have
    lived this day and all the preceding ones of my
    person, mine, as I rise now
    to the moment when right words
    are needed – Dear moon
    this morning I woke up, I thought the room for an instant was a blossoming, then a
    burning cell, then a thing
    changing its clothes, huge transparent clothes, the ceiling part of the neck, where is
    the head I thought, of the year, this
    year, where are the eyes of
    the years – the years, can we stay human, will we slow the end
    down, how much, what do we have to promise, how think our way
    from here to
    there – and human life survived – and its world – ah, room, the
    words – has it been just
    luck, the room now wild with winds of centuries swirling floods tectonic plates like wide
    bones shifting round me – elephants flow through, all gone, volcanoes emerging and
    disappearing just like that, didn’t even really get to see them, pestilence, there, it took its
    people, hurricane, there, it took its – ‘you’re a
    martian’ I heard the angry child cry out on the street
    below to the other
    child, and the door slams, and the only story I know, my head, my century, the one where
    187 million perished in wars, massacre, persecution, famine – all policy induced – is the
    one out of which
    I must find the reason
    for the loved still-young creature being carried now onto the family lawn as they try
    everything, and all murmurs shroud hum cry instruct, and all the
    six arms gleam, firm, limp, all over it, caresses, tentacular
    surround of the never-again, rush of blood and words, although look, you out there
    peering in, listening, to see who we were: here: this was history:
    their turn
    is all they actually have
    flowing in them.

  5. Her hair was blonde, vaguely white. Her skin was pale— an oddity being that she lived in central Texas. She had long thin legs; her many admirers likened to them to Bambi’s first few moments on the ice—awkward. She looked like one of those starving, coked out models toward the end of their careers.

    Her name was Ida, just Ida. She had a last name, but everyone forgets. I remembered she once joked, “It was easier for adoring fans to scream Ida than Idina Santamaria.” But Ida was not a pop star or model. Ida was an 18 year-old college student, and now, a famous one at that, for she had committed suicide by hanging in her dorm room the week earlier. Everyone on campus whispered her name, all the news stations flashed her picture and an obituary was bought by the school to commemorate the loss. However, none of news coverage could properly describe the sum of her life: Ida was beautiful.

    “I saw her from the university’s café on the first day of school,” I said.

    She rushed, probably to her first class, in short bouncy steps. Her leather knee length skirt was tight, which caused her to take the small steps but it still didn’t account for the cartoonish gait—that was all Ida. Her shoulders were pushed back and her chest pushed forward when she turned to face the group of people in the café. I was unsure if she noticed the unsaid gasp on people’s faces. At the time, I would be surprised if she saw anything: her dark glasses hid most of her face and perhaps it was kinder to believe that was true. The small crowd was not shocked for any polite reason. We thought she looked ridiculous.

    “…and what did you think, Paul?” Dr. Charles Powell said.

    “I thought she looked…wonderful,” I said. “Strange, but wonderful,”

    Ida was not strange in individual parts. The red lipstick, the pink cardigan, the leopard heels, and the perfectly coiffed Monroe hair were all fine, albeit tacky, in small doses. But combined? Well, she must have known she would turn heads.

    Charlie—I called him Charlie because I knew he hated it—laughed.

    “What was so strange about her?” he said.

    “Well, she dressed different. She acted different. She sort of had this attitude that just pissed people off, and trust me; she pissed a whole lot of people off here on campus.”

    And I think that was Ida’s whole shtick. She never said so and she never responded seriously to questions about it, but I knew she did this—the clothes, the attitude, the walk— for show. I didn’t hate her like some of the people who said Ida was a fake. She was a fake. She was a fraud, an impostor, a lie. But she lived everyday to live up to that lie.
    you can read some more here:

    http://www.worthyofpublishing.com/author.asp?author_ID=3113

  6. Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.
    The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.
    Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders.
    Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat!!!”
    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction.
    If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.
    Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love.
    If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.
    As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.
    Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.
    Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.
    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.
    Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.
    Many people want to be richer, more successful,
    well liked, beautiful, but for me…
    I will always try to be Ugly.

  7. Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.

    To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.

    His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one ugly cat!”

    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.

    Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear- Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.

    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

    He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

    Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, or beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be “Ugly”.

  8. the other night i had a dream where me, my sister, my sisters fiance, and a random girl were standing at a counter at the front of what seemed like a store of some sort. this random girl turns to me and says “you know what sean(sean is my sister fiance’s BEST FRIEND) is sooo lucky to have you, i see how much he loves you and it is amazing, you are just such an amazing person for him”. soon after she said this sean walked through the front door grabbed me and took me to a back room. this room ended up being a huge fancy bedroom that was his. he starts to make out with me and starts shaving my vagina!!! SOOOOO WEIRD!!!! then at the corner of my eye i see a beautiful blonde girl who is nude and i asked him “who is that” and he said “ohhh that is the girl that i have sex with, but i love you”. i woke up from this dream freaked out i never thought about sean in that way but now i can NOT STOP thinking of him it is driving me nuts. I told my mom about this dream and she told me that when i was little she had a “vision” of me marrying a guy and the moment she saw sean she thought to herself “that look JUST like the guy i saw my daughter marrying”. so my mom saying this just added more confusion. she said that she held off telling me about this “vision” because she did not want me to think that she is crazy!!!! and to top it off my sister and i talked to sean and asked him who his dream girl is and he said “dark hair, half mexi and half white, and green eyes” describing me almost exactally i thought nothing of this but now all signs are leading to HIM !!!!!! im going nuts !!!!! HELP PLEASE!!!!!

  9. Her hair was blonde, vaguely white. Her skin was pale— an oddity being that she lived in central Texas. She had long thin legs; her many admirers likened to them to Bambi’s first few moments on the ice—awkward. She looked like one of those starving, coked out models toward the end of their careers.

    Her name was Ida, just Ida. She had a last name, but everyone forgets. I remembered she once joked, “It was easier for adoring fans to scream Ida than Idina Santamaria.” But Ida was not a pop star or model. Ida was an 18 year-old college student, and now, a famous one at that, for she had committed suicide by hanging in her dorm room the week earlier. Everyone on campus whispered her name, all the news stations flashed her picture and an obituary was bought by the school to commemorate the loss. However, none of news coverage could properly describe the sum of her life: Ida was beautiful.

    “I saw her from the university’s café on the first day of school,” I said.

    She rushed, probably to her first class, in short bouncy steps. Her leather knee length skirt was tight, which caused her to take the small steps but it still didn’t account for the cartoonish gait—that was all Ida. Her shoulders were pushed back and her chest pushed forward when she turned to face the group of people in the café. I was unsure if she noticed the unsaid gasp on people’s faces. At the time, I would be surprised if she saw anything: her dark glasses hid most of her face and perhaps it was kinder to believe that was true. The small crowd was not shocked for any polite reason. We thought she looked ridiculous.

    “…and what did you think, Paul?” Dr. Charles Powell said.

    “I thought she looked…wonderful,” I said. “Strange, but wonderful,”

    Ida was not strange in individual parts. The red lipstick, the pink cardigan, the leopard heels, and the perfectly coiffed Monroe hair were all fine, albeit tacky, in small doses. But combined? Well, she must have known she would turn heads.

    Charlie—I called him Charlie because I knew he hated it—laughed.

    “What was so strange about her?” he said.

    “Well, she dressed different. She acted different. She sort of had this attitude that just pissed people off, and trust me; she pissed a whole lot of people off here on campus.”

    And I think that was Ida’s whole shtick. She never said so and she never responded seriously to questions about it, but I knew she did this—the clothes, the attitude, the walk— for show. I didn’t hate her like some of the people who said Ida was a fake. She was a fake. She was a fraud, an impostor, a lie. But she lived everyday to live up to that lie.
    you can read some more here:

    http://www.worthyofpublishing.com/author.asp?author_ID=3113

  10. I’ll share mine:

    It was a hot summer night at summer camp. It was the last night of the session, and we were walking back from our final campfire. I was halfway back to my tent, when I realized that i forgot my water bottle at the fire circle. It was getting dark, and it was already 11:30. I told my tent mates that I’d meet them at the tent in about half an hour (it was a far walk). They promised to cover for me if they came around for bedchecks. I hugged them goodbye, and headed back towards the campfire. The embers of the fire were still faintly glowing, giving off enough light for me to see the face of the cute male lifeguard that I’d never had the courage to talk to before. As I came closer, he asked
    “What are you doing here?”. I said, “I forgot my water bottle.” He quickly bent down and handed it to me. He leaned in really close and asked, “Anything else?” I responded “Like what?”. He paused for a moment before responding “Like a goonight kiss?”. Before I had the chance to answer, he leaned in closer and kissed me right on the lips. My heart stopped. We looked at eachother for a moment, and then we leaned in to kiss again. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I ran my fingers through his hair. I jumped up and wrapped my legs around him. After a while, he sat us down with my legs still wrapped around him. He pulled away and said “What a beautiful night, with an even more beautiful girl”. I couldn’t help but blush. “It’s too bad that camp ends tomorrow.” I said. He responded, “But we have a beautiful night, with a sky full of shining stars. We only have tonight, so let’s make the most of it.” We gazed up at the stars for hours and talked about life. Finally, I looked at my watch. It was 3:00 AM! “I should probably get back to my tent, we have to get up early to pack tomorrow.” I said. He offered to drive me back to my tent to make sure I got back safely. At first I refused, but he looked at me with longing eyes and said, “Come on, this may be our last night together.” With that I agreed, and hopped into his truck. The ride was about 10 minutes, before we were almost at my tent unit. I got up to leave, but after a few steps I heard his voice call out “Hey, forget something?” In fact I had forgotton my water bottle again! I went to grab it from him, and he leaned in real close and asked “Anything else?”. I responded, “A goodnight’s kiss”. He kissed me right on the lips and finally pulled away, and kissed me one more time on the cheek. He said “Goodnight,” and I said “Goodnight,”. As I walked back to my tent, I love that he waited for me to wave that I was alright, and then he drove down the dirt road to his cabin. I saw him for a final time the next day while I was leaving, as he checked me out of my unit. There was no one around, and my parents were in the trading post. He leaned in close and said, “forget anything?” and for a final time i said “a goodbye kiss”. He kissed me one my cheek, and we went our sepperate ways. Never seeing eachother again.

    What’s your story?

  11. For an English assignment, I have to choose from a list of books. I’m thirteen years old (in eighth grade), but my school’s standards are pretty high. Here’s the list (it’s REALLY long!):

    James Agee — A Death in the Family
    Maya Angelou — I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
    Jane Austen — Pride and Prejudice (I don’t really want to read this one)
    James Baldwin — Go Tell It on the Mountain
    Hal G. Borland — When the Legends Die
    Ray Bradbury — Fahrenheit 451
    Ray Bradbury — The Martian Chronicles
    Charlotte Bronte — Jane Eyre
    Emily Bronte — Wuthering Heights
    Dee Brown — Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
    Pearl Buck — The Good Earth
    Willa Cather — My Antonia
    Willa Cather — Death Comes for the Archbishop
    Miguel de Cervantes — Don Quixote
    Wilkie Collins — The Moonstone
    Joseph Conrad — Heart of Darkness
    James Fenimore Cooper — The Last of the Mohicans
    Robert Cormier — The Chocolate War
    Stephen Crane — The Red Badge of Courage
    Daniel Defoe — Robinson Crusoe
    Charles Dickens — A Tale of Two Cities
    Charles Dickens — Great Expectations
    Charles Dickens — David Copperfield
    Charles Dickens — Oliver Twist (probably not going to read this one; people told me it was hard)
    Michael Dorris — A Yellow Raft in Blue Water
    Fyodor Dostoyevsky — Crime and Punishment
    Sir Arthur Conan Doyle — The Complete Sherlock Holmes
    Theodore Dreiser — An American Tragedy
    Daphne Du Maurier — Rebecca
    George Eliot — The Mill on the Floss
    Ralph Ellison — Invisible Man
    William Faulkner — As I Lay Dying
    F. Scott Fitzgerald — The Great Gatsby
    Ernest Gaines — The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman
    Joanne Greenburg — I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
    Thomas Hardy — The Return of the Native
    Thomas Hardy — Far From the Maddening Crowd
    Nathaniel Hawthorne — The Scarlet Letter
    Joseph Heller — Catch-22
    Ernest Hemingway — A Farewell to Arms
    Ernest Hemingway — For Whom the Bell Tolls
    Ernest Hemingway — The Sun Also Rises
    Frank Herbert — Dune
    John Hersey — A Bell for Adano
    Victor Hugo — The Hunchback of Notre Dame
    Victor Hugo — Les Miserables
    Aldous Huxley — Brave New World
    Helen Keller — The Story of My Life (I’m interested in this book)
    Daniel Keyes — Flowers for Algernon
    Rudyard Kipling — Kim
    John Knowles — A Separate Peace
    Jerzy Kosinski — The Painted Bird
    Herman Melville — Moby Dick
    Margaret Mitchell — Gone With the Wind
    George Orwell — Animal Farm
    George Orwell — 1984
    Alan Paton — Cry the Beloved Country
    Sylvia Plath — The Bell Jar
    Chaim Potok — The Chosen
    Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings — The Yearling
    William Saroyan — The Human Comedy
    Sir Walter Scott — Ivanhoe
    Mary Shelley — Frankenstein
    John Steinbeck — The Grapes of Wrath
    Robert Louis Stevenson — Treasure Island
    Robert Louis Stevenson — The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (don’t really want to read this)
    Robert Louis Stevenson — Kidnapped
    Bram Stoker — Dracula
    Harriet Beecher Stowe — Uncle Tom’s Cabin
    Jonathan Swift — Gulliver’s Travels
    Amy Tan — The Joy Luck Club
    Mark Twain — The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (most likely NOT reading this; I disliked Tom Sawyer)
    Robert Penn Warren — All the King’s Men
    H. G. Wells — The Time Machine
    Richard Wright — Native Son

    I know it’s a lot to ask for, but if you could look at some of these titles, and if you’ve read any of them, could you just let me know what the level of difficulty is? I don’t need to know what it’s about or anything. I’d also like to know how long the book is, but it’s okay if you don’t include that. Also, if you have an opinion on what you think I might like best (as an eighth grader), please please please include that!

    Thank you SO SO SO much!

  12. Hi, I just graduated high school and I applied to a job at Vons/Safeway supermarket a couple weeks ago by filling out their online application. I received a phone call today from a hiring manager for a bakery/deli position, and she scheduled me for an interview tomorrow.

    Do you think the interview is more of: don’t screw up and you’re hired, or won’t get hired unless you stand out? Thanks.

  13. I took in a stray cat, BUDDY, a year ago. She was always running to me, happy, healthy, affectionate, etc. I do have another cat that sometimes liked her but mostly was (understandably) jealous. They never fought. I’ve nursed Buddy back to health several times. A couple of months ago, she hurt her hip somehow. She gradually became better on her own. For months, she was still eating a lot, coming to me EVERY DAY and NIGHT. All of a sudden, for the past week, her bowls of food have remained full. I have not seen her and I am very heartbroken. Can an oppossum kill a cat? Would her hip injury cause her to become sick? She still had her sight, her hearing and her appetite so I really don’t think it was old age. Cars don’t drive fast enough around my neighborhood for her to have been hit. Maybe she had 2 homes like some answers I have seen before joining this forum.My landlord told me that Buddy never had a home and has been around for many years. At least for the last year I gave her A LOT

  14. Please?
    Here it is, and yes, it is lame.

    Whoever it is, they are appoaching.
    Their shadow looms over me, and then I see him.
    It’s a handsome young man, about the same age as me, with brown eyes, like a pair of muddy puddles and shaggy dark blonde hair. Although he looks calm neutral, there is something about his eyes that tells a different story, a solemn, dark one. He is wearing a blood spattered lab coat, over a green hoody.

    Thanks a million!

  15. Hello there! I’m 13 and happened to just write or edit this and need some honest criticism on this. I’d like to know if it’s good or bad? If it’s bad then what can I do to improve it? I also want to know if I capture the feeling of the angel good enough, Thank you so very much if you respond! Also is it okay if I give away this much in the beginning? Cause the rest is supposed to be about her sneaking into a Catholic school to find Elisabeth?

    When people try to imagine what an angel looks like, they most commonly picture us as beautiful, spiritual creatures. People think that we have soft, pale skin , golden sparkling halo’s above our heads, and that we dress in white, flowing robes twenty-four hours.

    Well, I’m sorry to rain on your imagination, but not all of us are like that. In fact, if people could just open their eye’s once in a while. They’d actually see me. That nearly invisible little girl, with mousy brown hair huddled under an oak tree trying to escape the rain

    I probably don’t look like that spiritual creature you were trying to imagine a moment ago, with the pale skin, halo and robes. Though I do have wings, and I am a very important angel: a guardian angel in fact.

    It was raining again for the billionth time today, so I was waiting for the rain to pass by standing under a tall oak tree on the pavement near a bunch of shops. All around me men with professional looking, black brief cases and business women with star bucks coffee in their hands, walked in their own separate direction. I felt so out of place here, like I didn’t belong. For the first time that I could actually remember it, I felt really, truly lonely. I was tired and hungry, but the worst part was that I couldn’t stop going over my plan and why I was here in the first place.

    First you may wonder, shouldn’t I be up in heaven? Well, yes and no. I could be in heaven but of course I chose myself to go on this quest, and to be Elisabeth Hope’s guardian angel. I mean no one else was volunteering for the job so I figured why couldn’t I do it? Now, I’m down here on earth to find her and warn her before it’s too late of who she really is.
    I’m down here to also prove myself right, to in fact prove to everyone, that I, Lillian Doe, can do this. Everyone, even God himself thinks that this challenge is way too much for me, they all think that I’m irresponsible too. Though I think I totally have this under control. Yeah it was way harder then I imagined back when I was applying for the quest, but now I’m pretty sure that finding her will be a piece of cake!

    If only it was, I’ve been searching the entire coast of Monterey California for days! If you think that Bell the head archangel of quests, had actually provided me with enough information to find Elisabeth. Then you’ve got it all wrong, all I really know about her, is that she’s a thirteen year old prophet, and that she lives somewhere here in Monterey.
    It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack only different, like trying to find the prophet in the mortal town before some undenying dark force get’s to her first.
    Super easy right?
    I had only a few more places to check before I gave up on myself with this whole quest thing. Carmela and Oceana.

  16. Chapter One

    E
    arth is dead. Or at least it appears that way. A cloud of dusty thick air is covers Earth now. Earth is weathering away by the moment. The humans are scared and are quite. They wait for a sign of hope and a light that will guide them. Save them. But, however, there is a great evil that stands alone. He is powerful. His heart is cold and his soul is full of heavy darkness and evil. He will not stop until his true destiny is manifested: to become king of not only Earth but the whole entire universe. To humans this outer space is known as the universe, but to others it is known as Ukaea. Now, Ukaea is a whole other world. It is a beautiful world full of life and happiness. However, on this day Ukaea is shaken by what has taking over a once green and vibrant Earth. King Simon has seen of what has taken place and has decided to call the council members to the round table and discuss this matter. Simon then stood and cleared his throat to get the councilmen’s attention. “Now I have gathered you here today to discuss the corruption of Earth. It has accelerated out of control and the people need help. They say that there is an evil so powerful it can’t be stopped.” Simon said with a firm voice. Then Councilmen Adicas (the one council member that Simon didn’t care for) said, “If this is true tell me why we should risk our lives to save humans? A nation of people that don’t even know we exist.” Simon bowed his head in irritation and disappointment and said slowly, “I am not going to sit here and watch people die, Adicas and I think you shouldn’t either.” “Well come up with a plan that we don’t have to risk our lives and you save Earth.” Adicas said with a chuckle. He then stood up and said proudly “Meeting adjourned!” And to Simon’s surprise the councilmen began to leave. Simon was upset and shocked because the only person that could dismiss them from their meeting was the king. Simon grabbed Adicas aside and whispered “Don’t ever discomfit me again. If you do I will snap your arm backwards like a stick.” Simon looked at Adicas with intensity. Adicas tried not to look intimidated but you could see in his eyes that he surely was. Adicas snatched his arm away and walked away with a pace. Simon then smiled with a smirk.
    “So how was the meeting, dear?” asked Mea. “Oh, it would’ve been just great if you didn’t have asses for council members.” Simon replied. He then kissed her on the cheek and rapped his arms around her gently. “So it was Adicas again?” She asked. “Yes. He doesn’t want me to save Earth because he doesn’t want to risk the lives of others here. What am I going to do?” Mea then loosened her self from here grip to look out the window. Through their window you could see a grayish Earth. “It is getting worse.” Mea said. “Yes it is.” Simon said quietly. Simon then said to his self “What am I going to do.” Mea was a telepath. She could see the future through visions. In her vision she was sitting on a cloud and beneath here were a group of stars. She watched them fall into Earth. When they fell the dark cloud hovering Earth busted open and disappeared. After the dream she gasped. Simon then saw that she was weak and ran to her and put her on the bed. “What did you see?” Simon said loudly. Mea then said to him faintly, “It’s the children. We must send them to Earth in order for Earth to survive.” Simon was in shock and showed no reaction. She the grabbed Simon’s hand and said “it’s the only way.” Simon kissed her on the head and said with anxiety and slight fear “Then that’s what we must do.”

  17. I took in a stray cat, BUDDY, a year ago. She was always running to me, happy, healthy, affectionate, etc. I do have another cat that sometimes liked her but mostly was (understandably) jealous. They never fought. I’ve nursed Buddy back to health several times. A couple of months ago, she hurt her hip somehow. She gradually became better on her own. For months, she was still eating a lot, coming to me EVERY DAY and NIGHT. All of a sudden, for the past week, her bowls of food have remained full. I have not seen her and I am very heartbroken. Can an oppossum kill a cat? Would her hip injury cause her to become sick? She still had her sight, her hearing and her appetite so I really don’t think it was old age. Cars don’t drive fast enough around my neighborhood for her to have been hit. Maybe she had 2 homes like some answers I have seen before joining this forum.My landlord told me that Buddy never had a home and has been around for many years. At least for the last year I gave her A LOT

  18.  “No friggin’ way!” Kimmie explained, touching her bare left earlobe. “My earring is gone! Somebody report thievery! My earring’s gone missing!”
    Holly rolled her eyes. She had no idea what Kimmie’s problem was, but it obviously had something to do with her head. Holly and her friends sat in the cafeteria on a Tuesday morning eating their breakfast when Kimmie ran over to their table looking as if she just lost her newborn child.
    “Guys!” she panicked, flailing her arms up and down. “Have you seen my earring? It looks just like the one I have on my ear. It’s crystal, shiny and is worth hundreds of dollars! I think someone stole it.”
    “Check your pocket.” Holly said listlessly, shoving spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth.
    “Why would it be in my—?”
    “Just check it.” sighed Monica, twirling her dark-hair with her manicured finger.
    Kimmie just shrugged and reached into her pocket. Her face shifted into a look of embarrassment as soon as she felt around  her pocket. Holly smirked as she pulled out a beautiful diamond stud.
    “Oops,” Kimmie said, shrugging her shoulders. “I must have put it in my pocket by mistake.”
    “You’re welcome.” Holly smiled, turning back to her breakfast.
    Kimmie stood there for a moment, registering the girls at the breakfast table. Holly wasn’t sure what to make of her. She wasn’t even sure what went on in her head. But whatever it was, she didn’t want to find out.
    “Well, see ya!” she piped, turning on her heel and walking the other way.
    After she was gone, Monica leaned over so her whole table could hear what she was about to say. “What a strange girl.”
    Holly snickered. “She’s sweet, but annoying.”
    “Say it ain’t so.” Jamie joked, taking a bite out of Nutrigrain bar.
    The whole table laughed. So far no drama had went on since Savannah’s breakdown on Saturday. In fact Savannah seemed to be in a good mood. She sat across the table spooning oatmeal in her mouth, humming in the process. Holly was scared when she received the text message from Savannah about killing herself. She kept telling Savannah it wasn’t funny, but Savannah wouldn’t answer. Holly was just glad she was okay.
    “How’s it going?” Monica asked, putting a hand on Savannah’s. “Everything going alright?”
    “Yeah,” she smiled. “I have more important things to worry about than Carter and Nicole.”
    Holly noticed that she never referred to Nicole  as Carter’s girlfriend. She would just mention her first name whenever being addressed by her episode at the dance. Rumors have been flying ever since the night of the dance. It seemed like every time something drastic happened to one of her friends, everyone in the freshman class knew about it.
    “What are you doing your report on?” Dominique Ogilvy asked Holly, taking a sip from her chocolate milk.
    “I’m doing my report on Audrey Hepburn,” answered Holly. “What about you?”
    “I’m doing mine’s on Martin Luther King,” replied Dominique. “He was an inspiration in my opinion.”
    Ms. Livingston had assigned Holly’s English class to do an assignment on a topic that interested them. She had decided to do Audrey Hepburn because she thought she resembled her a little bit. At least that was what her grandmother always told her.
    “What are you doing yours on?” Holly asked Savannah, turning her attention to her.
    “Evel Knievel,” responded Savannah, looking down at her cellphone.
    “Cool,” Jamie said, slapping palms with her. “What made you decide on him?”
    “Cause he was bad-ass,” snickered Savannah, covering her mouth with her freshly-manicured hand.
    Holly laughed to herself. Yep. She’s feeling better alright.
       “Good morning, class!” beamed Livingston, placing her brown portfolio on the podium. “I assume you all completed your assignment?
      A few students muttered in confirmations, but it was hesitant and unsure. Livingston smiled knowingly at the class as she wrote down the assignment on the chalkboard. Meanwhile Holly was texting Megan about her textbook that she left in her locker.

      Megan Finnegan: Srry I’ll bring it to you in a min
    Holly Drake: You can do it during class?
    Megan Finnegan: Yes, it’s not too late. Class only started five minute ago
    Holly Drake: Thanks, meg. You’re the best
    Megan Finnegan: Duh 😉
     
    Holly slid her phone into her pocket and looked up at the board. She only had the basic information on Audrey Hepburn. Not enough to fill up a five page essay. Writing was never her forte. It wasn’t that she hated writing, it was just that she wasn’t very good at it. Her handwriting was illegible and she had the writing skills of a seventh grader. She looked next to Savannah wit

  19. First off, I hate reading and have to do this for a report.

    Pick out of this list please!

    Author – Title

    Achebe, Chinua – Things Fall Apart

    Agee, James – Death in the Family

    Anaya, Rudolfo, A. – Bless Me, Ultima

    Arnow, Harriet – The Dollmaker

    Austen, Jane – Pride and Prejudice

    Azuala, Mariano – The Underdogs

    Baldwin, James – Go Tell It on the Mountain

    Borland, Hal – When the Legends Die

    Bradbury, Ray – Fahrenheit 451

    Bronte, Charlotte – Jane Eyre

    Bronte, Emily – Wuthering Heights

    Brookner, Anita – Look at Me

    Bryant, Dorothy – Miss Giardino

    Buck, Pearl – The Good Earth

    Camus, Albert – The Stranger

    Candelaria, Nash – Memories of the Alhambra

    Carroll, Lewis – Alice in Wonderland

    Cather, Willa – My Antonia

    Chopin, Kate – The Awakening

    Cisneros, Sandra – The House on Mango Street

    Clark, Walter V. – Ox-Bow Incident

    Clarke, Arthur C. – Childhood’s End

    Conrad, Joseph – Heart of Darkness

    Cormier, Robert – The Chocolate War

    Crane, Stephen – The Red Badge of Courage

    Craven, Margaret – I Heard the Owl Call My Name

    Dickens, Charles – A Tale of Two Cities

    Doerr, Harriet – Stones for Ibarra

    Dostoyevsky, Fyodor – Crime and Punishment

    Ellison, Ralph – Invisible Man

    Erdrich, Louise – Love Medicine

    Faulkner, William – The Bear

    Fitzgerald, F. Scott – The Great Gatsby

    Flaubert, Gustave – Madame Bovary

    Forster, E.M. – A Passage to India

    Frank, Rudolf – No Hero for the Kaiser

    Gaines, Ernest J. – The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman

    Garcia Marquez, Gabriel – Love in the Time of Cholera

    Golding, William – Lord of the Flies

    Green, Hannah – I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

    Greene, Bette – Summer of My German Soldier

    Guest, Judith – Ordinary People

    Hale, Janet Campbell – The Owl’s Song

    Hammet, Dashiell – The Maltese Falcon

    Hardy, Thomas – The Mayor of Casterbridge

    Hawthrone, Nathaniel – Scarlet Letter

    Heinlein, Robert A. – Stranger in a Strange Land

    Heller, Jospeh – Catch Twenty-Two

    Hemingway, Ernest – The Old Man and the Sea

    Hesse, Hermann – Siddhartha

    Hinojosa, Rolando – Dear Rafe

    Hugo, Victor – Les Miserables

    Hurston, Zora Neale – Their Eyes Were Watching God

    Huxley, Aldous – Brave New World

    Islas, Arturo The Rain God

    Jackson, Helen Hunt – Ramona

    James, Henry – The Turn of the Screw

    Jolley, Elizabeth – Miss Peabody’s Inheritance

    Joyce, James – Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

    Kawabata, Yasunari – Snow Country

    Keyes, Daniel – Flowers for Algermon

    Kim, Richard E. – Martyred

    Kincaid, Jamaica – Annie John

    Kinsella, W.P. – Shoeless Joe

    Knowles, John – Separate Peace

    LaFarge, Oliver – Sons and Lovers

    Leffland, Ella – Rumors of Peace

    LeGuin, Ursula – The Left Hand of Darkness

    Lewis, Sinclair –

  20. Just curious 🙂
    I don’t describe the woman on purpose. The rest of her looks are saved for later on. this is only the prologue, remember.

    “Max.” the slouched young man suddenly stood erect, pushing his thick glasses up his narrow nose. His light blue eyes met hers for an instant before sliding down her body and staying at her feet as she had previously instructed him to do. She let her blood red lips slide into a small smile. Good boy. She stood up from her throne of obsidian.
    “Are they complete?” she inquired, letting her hand fall on the arm rest of her flamboyantly dark chair, her pale fingers thrumming against it, her crimson nails flashing in the moonlight.
    “Yes.” He responded his eyes beginning to drift upwards, obviously trying to get a glimpse of his prize. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor. Men were so easy to predict.
    “Eyes down. Show your respect.” She reminded him, her voice so cold it could freeze fire, had she wished to do so. Max obeyed immediately, and his eyes dropped to the floor. She took a small breath then continued. “And they are flawless, as agreed?” she asked, taking another step towards him. He quivered in anticipation.
    “Yes. Flawless. Unbreakable. Not heat, nor cold, will leave a scratch. They have no mind of their own, are unable to make decisions by themselves. They are only able to do; and they will only do as you tell them… my love.” She raised an eyebrow. He was bold. A few of them were. Well, good. That would make this more enjoyable. The bold ones would do more then stand there and quiver in her presence. They tended to make things a bit more… fun.
    “Call one in.” she ordered. He dared a glance at her face, and flashed her a handsome shining grin.
    “Only you can do so.” Came his response before he turned his face back towards the floor. She couldn’t help but smile at that.
    “Very well.” She purred. “Tell me what to say?” she leaned forward, letting her index finger find its way under his chin and tilting his face towards her. Her face was inches from his, and she could feel his suppressed excitement throbbing through his skin.
    “You activate them by calling their names. If you want to call a multitude of them, refer to them as drones 1 from 2,777. You can call any amount you wish to. For example, if you wanted to call fifty, you would say ‘drones 1 through 50 come in through the left entrance’ or whatever you wish for them to do. Does this all make sense?” he explained with a small shiver of desire. She smiled at him.
    “Very much so, yes. Thank you, Maxwell.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb, and said, without taking her eyes off of his: “Drone one, enter.” There was a pause. Nothing happened. Max looked confused and the woman rose herself away from him.
    “Need I be more specific?” she asked. Max shook his head.
    “No, this is enough. It should understand…” he looked nervous now. But then, it came. The door opened and it stomped in. Seven feet of seemingly human flesh, glowing red eyes. It parted its lips, revealing teeth as sharp as blades.
    “Master.” The creature hissed. It was a terrifying sight; muscles rippled down its naked arms, veins bulged blue and green under frail looking skin. It blinked at the stunningly beautiful woman and let out a small anxious growl. It’s body was like a man’s… only… different. There was something bear-like about the beast, something undeniably feral. It’s extended canines and scream-worthy claws were evidence enough of that. It sniffed the air cautiously. The woman laughed at her new toy, and slowly walked forward until she wasn’t even a foot away from it. She was pleased with her pretty pet.
    “Hello.” She stroked its cheek and even this man-made creature, filled with anger, hatred, and violence, couldn’t stop it’s shiver of desire. Her beauty was that destructive; it could corrupt machinery.
    “Master.” He replied, looking down at her. “What are your wishes?” She dragged her finger along his face. “I have none at the moment. You are dismissed.” She replied. He nodded slowly, and turned, leaving the two of them in the room, alone.
    “You have done well, Max.” she commented, her back to him. Her sensitive ears heard him rise from the floor.
    “And my prize?” he asked. She laughed.
    “You may have it now.” And with that, she turned to him, her eyes glittering dangerously. He walked up to her, and she grabbed him, pulling close.
    “Cherish this.” She whispered in his ear. He sighed, and she continued “For it will only happen once…” he closed his eyes, and she pulled off his glasses, tossing them casually to her side. With that, she pulled his face close to hers and kissed it.

  21. its not all done but its about a girl who boyfriend dies and she runs away, constructive criticism or positive comments are both helpful. thanks!

    It all started exactly one year ago today. It was just like any normal day. Little did I know, it was the beginning of my new life…
    Before that day my life had been perfect. I had a loving family who always supported me, I had great friends, I had perfect grades and overall a life many girls dreamed of. But none of this could ever compare to the best part of my life which was my amazing boyfriend, Devin. Devin and I had been dating since grade 6, it had been 4 years. He and I were inseparable. He loved me and I loved him in ways few 15 yr olds could ever understand. It felt as if nothing could break us. But that day everything in my perfect little world came tearing down. I received the phone call at exactly 5:36 pm. I dropped the phone and collapsed on the kitchen floor. I couldn’t comprehend the words that the women had said. All seemed like a blur, all I knew is that I wanted no part of it. I ran to my room and threw a few clothes into a duffle bag. I scrawled a note and stuck it to the fridge it read “Mom, I had to go. I’m sorry. I love you”. That was the best I could do. I called a cab and went straight to the bus station. It wasn’t until I walked into the building that I realized I had no idea where I was going. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my mom read the note and sent the police out for me. It didn’t matter where I went I just needed to be far, far away. So when the women asked me where I was going I responded “New York” and shoved my bank card towards her. She looked at me curiously but couldn’t be bothered to ask. She handed me the ticket and off I went.
    Once on the bus I started crying uncontrollably. I tried to imagine Devin sitting next to me holding my hand. He would be stroking my hair comforting me. Telling me everything would be okay. I could picture his beautiful green eyes staring into mine; I was seeing his cute crooked smile and his sandy brown hair. All of a sudden my visions were interrupted, “you okay there?” I was shocked. I looked up and was facing those same green eyes. It took a second for my eyes to adjust and sitting across from me was a boy. He appeared to be around 16. He had bright green eyes similar to Devin’s and tussled brown hair that framed a narrow face. He was wearing a brown hoodie and tattered jeans that showed off his thin but muscular body. His expression was concerned. I realized he was waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine” I managed to stutter. He looked unconvinced, “I’m Rider” he held out his hand as an offer. I took the offer and shook his hand. “I’m Britney” I responded nervously. “So Britney, tell me why are you headed to the big apple?” I could tell he was trying to distract me. “I’m visiting relatives, and yourself?” I was surprised how naturally the lie came out, considering how I’d never been able to lie in my life. “Oh me? I’m simply looking for a place to belong. Perhaps pick up a job somewhere and start a new life.” He replied easily. His answer stunned me for a moment; it was definitely not what I expected to hear. Could he be running away from home too? I wondered but was too shy to ask. I just stared at him with curiosity. I watched as he took in my expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked curtly. I looked into those familiar eyes and the shyness disappeared. “Where are you running from?” I asked with no hesitation. This time he was the one who looked stunned. After an awkward pause he responded “I once lived in California, but things didn’t work out. Six months ago I left home and haven’t been back since.” He then turned to look out the bus window in thought. Minutes passed and I slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
    I was woken when the bus came to an abrupt stop. “How long was I sleeping?” I wondered out loud. “About an hour, we’ve just stopped for gas” Rider replied. His voice startled me, I sat up straight in my chair. Rider laughed and apologized. His laugh was light and easy. Everything about this guy seemed easy. “No harm done” I smiled politely. I felt a vibration in my pocket, I glanced down at my cell phone with surprise. A rush of memories flooded me reminding me why I was on this bus in the first place. I let out a gasp and quickly ignored the call. I noticed Rider was watching me with a mix of concern and suspicion on his face. I ignored him as well. I was going to have to talk to my mom soon to keep her from calling the police. I promised myself to call her when I arrived in NY. I looked to see Rider still staring this time with a smug expression. “Where are you running from, Britney?” he challenged. I struggled to think of a lie or an excuse but all I could manage was one word “death”. I gazed at him sheepishly and I saw understanding in his brilliant eyes. He reached out to touch my face but pulled his hand back. “I am very sorry” He said sympathetically. I then suddenly had a stro
    if you want the rest of the story (there is a lot more) e-mail me at roxy_chick95@hotmail.com

  22. I think we need relationship counseling. I have tried to bring this up but she responded stating the fact that we are struggling with money. The truth is, I have a lot of feelings and behaviors, that I am fully aware could be destructive to our relationship. We just started living together and have been dating for about 9 months. I have no intention of leaving her or hurting her, and dream of forever making progress with her and becoming more connected to her throughout our lives. We have what seems to me to be a fairly normal sex life. She is an extremely attractive girl.
    First let me start off by listing the things I have done that I want to stop doing.
    1) I watch pornography on an irregular basis. It is a huge addiction of mine. It comes in the form of binges. Mainly, it happens like this: I find myself awake and horny at night while she is asleep. I go on the computer and spend several minutes if not hours indulging in the escape of uncontrollable lust. To address this problem, I have made contact with a sexual addiction therapist and set up an appointment.
    2) Secondly, I recently burdened her with my dark secrets. The ones that torment me the most. I excused this action as an attempt to make us closer, be honest with her, but now I have realized that the driving force in that action was to lift the weight off my shoulders. I know this is not a bad thing to do, but its meant to be done with a psychiatrist or therapist, somebody who is not emotionally attached to you. I did it with her, and I sense it is hurting her, because I am sure it is a lot to handle. I have resolved to keep these things to myself, and I am going to take advantage of my health insurance and seek psychiatric counseling and therapy, so I can better learn to forgive myself.
    3) I recently discovered that she may feel used. We have sex frequently but she is rarely the initiator. I have a feeling I am not fulfilling her emotional needs.
    4) the list goes on but the ones mentioned above seem to me to be the most important.

    I often witness her dress in a way that is very advertising of her beauty. For some reason I struggle with this and although I tell myself its none of my business and I couldnt change it if I wanted to, I end up bringing it up some way or another. When we go out together, she often combines all our most of the following: High heels, exposed legs and short dresses, or short shorts, make-up (a lot of it) lipstick, well done hair, sunglasses, exposed arms and upper chest, and body piercings. When I walk with her, wherever we are, and she has done herself up like this, EVERY, SINGLE…. MALE that we pass lays his eyes on her for a good 10x as long as he should be. Often, when she is walking alone, or I am a little too far, men tell her she looks pretty, they start talking to her, ask her her name, and obviously check her out. Most of the time, she comes to me moments later and says something like: That was weird, or akward… and proceeds to tell me what they said. I remain speechless because I have no idea how to tell her what im thinking, which is: WELL DUH THEY ARE HITTING ON YOU! YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WANT ATTENTION!!!!

    In addition to this, she often posts photos on facebook which highlight her beautiful eyes, her lips, which are often puckered, or her cute outfits which reveal quite some skin. I look at the likes, and my favorite one that seems to support all my frusteration is the one where she has long golden hair, puckered lips, her hip is out with her hand on it, and shes smiling, and shes wearing see through leggings. Theres 12 likes on that picture. 8 of them are from males.

    I don’t know what to do. Im trying to be peaceful, to show her love, but sometimes I feel hurt, and I struggle a lot with my own personal self hatred and so on.
    Help me do the right thing! Even if its hard, if it feels right, if it makes sense, I will do it! I know this is probably a lost cause! How can I be there for her? How can I do so without feeling completely betrayed?

  23. Hello,

    I’m trying to think what that song is in Austin Powers 2: The Spy Who S*****d Me, the song when Austin leaves Felicity on the bedroom and jumps in his car to go to the Lab.

    Hell if I can remember what it is and who sings it?

    Any comments would be great,

    Cheers,

    Simon

  24. Hello,

    I’m trying to think what that song is in Austin Powers 2: The Spy Who S*****d Me, the song when Austin leaves Felicity on the bedroom and jumps in his car to go to the Lab.

    Hell if I can remember what it is and who sings it?

    Any comments would be great,

    Cheers,

    Simon

  25. Hi, I just graduated high school and I applied to a job at Vons/Safeway supermarket a couple weeks ago by filling out their online application. I received a phone call today from a hiring manager for a bakery/deli position, and she scheduled me for an interview tomorrow.

    Do you think the interview is more of: don’t screw up and you’re hired, or won’t get hired unless you stand out? Thanks.

  26. Chapter One

    E
    arth is dead. Or at least it appears that way. A cloud of dusty thick air is covers Earth now. Earth is weathering away by the moment. The humans are scared and are quite. They wait for a sign of hope and a light that will guide them. Save them. But, however, there is a great evil that stands alone. He is powerful. His heart is cold and his soul is full of heavy darkness and evil. He will not stop until his true destiny is manifested: to become king of not only Earth but the whole entire universe. To humans this outer space is known as the universe, but to others it is known as Ukaea. Now, Ukaea is a whole other world. It is a beautiful world full of life and happiness. However, on this day Ukaea is shaken by what has taking over a once green and vibrant Earth. King Simon has seen of what has taken place and has decided to call the council members to the round table and discuss this matter. Simon then stood and cleared his throat to get the councilmen’s attention. “Now I have gathered you here today to discuss the corruption of Earth. It has accelerated out of control and the people need help. They say that there is an evil so powerful it can’t be stopped.” Simon said with a firm voice. Then Councilmen Adicas (the one council member that Simon didn’t care for) said, “If this is true tell me why we should risk our lives to save humans? A nation of people that don’t even know we exist.” Simon bowed his head in irritation and disappointment and said slowly, “I am not going to sit here and watch people die, Adicas and I think you shouldn’t either.” “Well come up with a plan that we don’t have to risk our lives and you save Earth.” Adicas said with a chuckle. He then stood up and said proudly “Meeting adjourned!” And to Simon’s surprise the councilmen began to leave. Simon was upset and shocked because the only person that could dismiss them from their meeting was the king. Simon grabbed Adicas aside and whispered “Don’t ever discomfit me again. If you do I will snap your arm backwards like a stick.” Simon looked at Adicas with intensity. Adicas tried not to look intimidated but you could see in his eyes that he surely was. Adicas snatched his arm away and walked away with a pace. Simon then smiled with a smirk.
    “So how was the meeting, dear?” asked Mea. “Oh, it would’ve been just great if you didn’t have asses for council members.” Simon replied. He then kissed her on the cheek and rapped his arms around her gently. “So it was Adicas again?” She asked. “Yes. He doesn’t want me to save Earth because he doesn’t want to risk the lives of others here. What am I going to do?” Mea then loosened her self from here grip to look out the window. Through their window you could see a grayish Earth. “It is getting worse.” Mea said. “Yes it is.” Simon said quietly. Simon then said to his self “What am I going to do.” Mea was a telepath. She could see the future through visions. In her vision she was sitting on a cloud and beneath here were a group of stars. She watched them fall into Earth. When they fell the dark cloud hovering Earth busted open and disappeared. After the dream she gasped. Simon then saw that she was weak and ran to her and put her on the bed. “What did you see?” Simon said loudly. Mea then said to him faintly, “It’s the children. We must send them to Earth in order for Earth to survive.” Simon was in shock and showed no reaction. She the grabbed Simon’s hand and said “it’s the only way.” Simon kissed her on the head and said with anxiety and slight fear “Then that’s what we must do.”

  27. First off, I hate reading and have to do this for a report.

    Pick out of this list please!

    Author – Title

    Achebe, Chinua – Things Fall Apart

    Agee, James – Death in the Family

    Anaya, Rudolfo, A. – Bless Me, Ultima

    Arnow, Harriet – The Dollmaker

    Austen, Jane – Pride and Prejudice

    Azuala, Mariano – The Underdogs

    Baldwin, James – Go Tell It on the Mountain

    Borland, Hal – When the Legends Die

    Bradbury, Ray – Fahrenheit 451

    Bronte, Charlotte – Jane Eyre

    Bronte, Emily – Wuthering Heights

    Brookner, Anita – Look at Me

    Bryant, Dorothy – Miss Giardino

    Buck, Pearl – The Good Earth

    Camus, Albert – The Stranger

    Candelaria, Nash – Memories of the Alhambra

    Carroll, Lewis – Alice in Wonderland

    Cather, Willa – My Antonia

    Chopin, Kate – The Awakening

    Cisneros, Sandra – The House on Mango Street

    Clark, Walter V. – Ox-Bow Incident

    Clarke, Arthur C. – Childhood’s End

    Conrad, Joseph – Heart of Darkness

    Cormier, Robert – The Chocolate War

    Crane, Stephen – The Red Badge of Courage

    Craven, Margaret – I Heard the Owl Call My Name

    Dickens, Charles – A Tale of Two Cities

    Doerr, Harriet – Stones for Ibarra

    Dostoyevsky, Fyodor – Crime and Punishment

    Ellison, Ralph – Invisible Man

    Erdrich, Louise – Love Medicine

    Faulkner, William – The Bear

    Fitzgerald, F. Scott – The Great Gatsby

    Flaubert, Gustave – Madame Bovary

    Forster, E.M. – A Passage to India

    Frank, Rudolf – No Hero for the Kaiser

    Gaines, Ernest J. – The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman

    Garcia Marquez, Gabriel – Love in the Time of Cholera

    Golding, William – Lord of the Flies

    Green, Hannah – I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

    Greene, Bette – Summer of My German Soldier

    Guest, Judith – Ordinary People

    Hale, Janet Campbell – The Owl’s Song

    Hammet, Dashiell – The Maltese Falcon

    Hardy, Thomas – The Mayor of Casterbridge

    Hawthrone, Nathaniel – Scarlet Letter

    Heinlein, Robert A. – Stranger in a Strange Land

    Heller, Jospeh – Catch Twenty-Two

    Hemingway, Ernest – The Old Man and the Sea

    Hesse, Hermann – Siddhartha

    Hinojosa, Rolando – Dear Rafe

    Hugo, Victor – Les Miserables

    Hurston, Zora Neale – Their Eyes Were Watching God

    Huxley, Aldous – Brave New World

    Islas, Arturo The Rain God

    Jackson, Helen Hunt – Ramona

    James, Henry – The Turn of the Screw

    Jolley, Elizabeth – Miss Peabody’s Inheritance

    Joyce, James – Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

    Kawabata, Yasunari – Snow Country

    Keyes, Daniel – Flowers for Algermon

    Kim, Richard E. – Martyred

    Kincaid, Jamaica – Annie John

    Kinsella, W.P. – Shoeless Joe

    Knowles, John – Separate Peace

    LaFarge, Oliver – Sons and Lovers

    Leffland, Ella – Rumors of Peace

    LeGuin, Ursula – The Left Hand of Darkness

    Lewis, Sinclair –

  28. I just started this. Here’s the prologue:

    My day began in the usual way; I woke at the crack of dawn, silently, so that I did not disturb my pleasantly sleeping wife. I struck a match and lit the stove, placing a pan with two eggs sizzling in it on top of it. A bright yellow tablecloth, two white place-mats, and two hand-painted plates decorated the breakfast table. A fork sat to the the left of the plate, and matched a knife to it on the opposite side. Orange juice sat in two glasses.
    After checking the two eggs I had cooking–not yet ready for placement–I tended to the beautiful flowers and plants out in Alice’s garden. Once the soil was soaked, I tip-toed back inside and set one egg on my own plate, and the other in Alice’s.
    Back to the garden I went, and found some rosemary, which I later sprinkled onto our food. I plucked a single rose from the flower bed and set it in a watered vase that was positioned in the center of the table.
    I smile spread across my face as I studied the scene of our morning breakfast. Everything was perfect, just like normal.
    I crept back into the master bedroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hung above Alice’s vanity. My dark hair was untidy, and my blue eyes sparkled. No need to brush my hair–Alice appreciated me just the way I was. No need to calm down my eyes–Thats the way Alice liked it.
    I went to wake her.
    Kneeling next to the bed, my eyes ran over her. I stared for a moment, but then my nerves became uneasy.
    My morning took a turn for the worst.
    “Alice?” I murmured to her through and awkward smile, something strange. I had never felt awkward around her before. “Dearest?” I placed a delicate hand on her cold shoulder. This was not out of the ordinary–She usually was cold when she first woke in the morn.
    I gave her a slight tug, “Time to wake.” I sang to her.
    What I wanted to happen was for her green eyes to blink open, casting off their greenish glow, and for a smile that warms my heart to come. She would ask, “What’s for breakfast?” And everything would continue as it always had.
    I would respond with, “Your favorite.” And we would go to eat.
    I rubbed her arm incrementally and expected just that to happen. But it did not. Harder I went this time and shook her so that she went back and forth. No morning greetings came. Now I spoke in a normal tone. It was not a whisper anymore, “Alice.” I waited one, two, three seconds before speaking again, “It’s morning.” I said, and prepared myself for the giggles that would undoubtedly follow. But there was most certainly something wrong.
    I brushed back her shiny brown hair to the side and my stomach plummeted downward.
    Her usually colorful skin was now a milky white, and her mouth was propped open at a weird angle. Her eyelids seemed a blueish black, something I first made the assumption of being make-up, but quickly came to the realization that it was not. Her eyebrows were frozen in place, but scrunched together, as if confused. Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I took in a shaky breath, and out came a ragged exhale. “Alice?” I asked once more. “Love?” This was almost muted, as it barely escape my lips. I shook her frantically, hoping for a response, any response, a small whimper would ever do, or a cry of despair.
    “Sweetheart? Dearest? Honey? Love?” These words were my frantic cry of despairs, my small whimpers, my response to the body that laid before me. I continued with a small flame of hope that eventually died down to nothing. Each word came faster than the one before, and they eventually became shaky.
    I abruptly stopped shaking her limp body and blinked tears from my eyes.
    “Alice?”
    Nothing.

    Can you please tell me what you think or add or edit some? Thanks!

  29. Here’s an excerpt. It’s been my dream in life to write. Note that the following are from two different points in the book. Ik the names are funny
    The Gods of No-Where
    PROLOGUE
    In darkened light, two figures move throughout a city. A horrendous sight, all the once beautiful buildings are crumbled to no more than mounds ten feet high. The corpses of all the denizens litter the faded gold streets. The sky is tainted with the ashes of this place, blocking what’s left of the sunlight.

    One of the figures leans down to examine a corpse. The deceased used to be a tall, handsome man, but now he’s little more than a husk. The figure stands back up and turns to his compatriot.

    “It appears that Co’Hila has returned-and succeeded. We must strike back before it is too late.” He said. As the sun breaks through the ash clouds for a moment, his features are visible. The creature is tall, at least 8 feet, and has the body of a human, but the head of an eagle. His eyes are an astonishing pure gold, and his body is covered in platinum armor. His body is surrounded by what seems to be an aura of fire. The other creature responds,

    “Zeuasa, you know that is not an option. He is too powerful. He has all but one stone—and we must not lose ours.” He said.

    Zeuasa turns to him. “You know that is not true. We have one, yes, but two others are nowhere to be found. We must not launch an offensive yet, but recover the two stones. The stones of Light and Darkness are the most important. If we recover them we might have a chance against Co’Hila and the others. Cheik, I need you to get information on where the enemies are hiding the stones. I’ll work on rebuilding this place.”

    Chiek nodded. In a glow of light brighter than any human eyes could withstand, he disappeared. Zeuasa looked up into the dark sky. His deep, booming voice made one last statement.

    “We have only one hope.”
    ______________________________________…

    I woke up coughing. Rain was landing in my throat and I couldn’t help but choke. I looked at my surroundings and stood up. We had crashed in the middle of the country so nobody was driving past. I started to look for the ambulance, but then I realize- Kadie! Where is she? I look around once more and see a figure laying in the grass, and go to investigate.

    What was there dulled my hopes of finding my girlfriend unharmed. The passenger of the ambulance laid dead, a piece of metal going clean through his neck. I curse and run over a rise in the ground to see the ambulance in flames on the other end, with Kadie lying on the ground near.

    Looking around, I pieced together what happened. There was a deer lying in the road dead, and I could see where the passenger and I were sent flying. So the ambulance must have made a very sharp turn to try and avoid the doe when the rear end slammed into it. Upon impact, me and the other man were sent outside.

    But that doesn’t explain why the ambulance kept going over the ridge. I shrug the thought away and make my way towards the wreck.

    I’m extremely careful on my way down because the hill is at a steep angle and it’s hard to keep my balance on such a slippery surface; for the rain was making the dirt slick.

    About halfway down the hill, I slip and almost fall. I jumped forward as an instinct to regain my footing, but it sends me flying with my head going towards the slope’s surface. I’m thankful for my parkour skill, because it might have saved my life.

    I rolled along the back of my head and neck in one smooth motion and make for a sprint to the bottom. Thankfully, I make it down safely. I went down on my knees, panting. When I regain my bearings I head towards the still body of Kadie. After realizing it’s lifeless I break down.

    I’d been crying for some time now and kiss her body one last time. But that’s when the strangest thing happens. As my lips part from hers, a gold wisp of smoke goes out of my mouth and into hers, as if guided. Thinking I was dreaming, I got up and walked to the wreckage of the ambulance, rain droplets landing on my face and streaming into my mouth. Strangely, some of them tasted like salt.

    The vehicle was upside-down and I had to lie down to get a good look inside the window. I saw the driver dead, radio in hand.
    Then I realized how bad my situation was. There was a crash in which three people ended up dead, and one that was completely unharmed. I would imagine that sounding fishy to a cop.

    Remembering the fact that he called in help, I get up to take shelter under a bridge, not looking back at the dead body of my girlfriend.
    Soon the sirens sound and I look for an alternative hiding place. I see the water tower of the nearest town and head toward it.

    Halfway there, I see another bridge and rest. Slowly but surely, the rain stops and the sun starts to come out of the clouds. My thoughts drift back and forth, but the subject mainly stays on the fact that my day was so crappy.

  30. Here’s an excerpt. It’s been my dream in life to write. Note that the following are from two different points in the book. Ik the names are funny
    The Gods of No-Where
    PROLOGUE
    In darkened light, two figures move throughout a city. A horrendous sight, all the once beautiful buildings are crumbled to no more than mounds ten feet high. The corpses of all the denizens litter the faded gold streets. The sky is tainted with the ashes of this place, blocking what’s left of the sunlight.

    One of the figures leans down to examine a corpse. The deceased used to be a tall, handsome man, but now he’s little more than a husk. The figure stands back up and turns to his compatriot.

    “It appears that Co’Hila has returned-and succeeded. We must strike back before it is too late.” He said. As the sun breaks through the ash clouds for a moment, his features are visible. The creature is tall, at least 8 feet, and has the body of a human, but the head of an eagle. His eyes are an astonishing pure gold, and his body is covered in platinum armor. His body is surrounded by what seems to be an aura of fire. The other creature responds,

    “Zeuasa, you know that is not an option. He is too powerful. He has all but one stone—and we must not lose ours.” He said.

    Zeuasa turns to him. “You know that is not true. We have one, yes, but two others are nowhere to be found. We must not launch an offensive yet, but recover the two stones. The stones of Light and Darkness are the most important. If we recover them we might have a chance against Co’Hila and the others. Cheik, I need you to get information on where the enemies are hiding the stones. I’ll work on rebuilding this place.”

    Chiek nodded. In a glow of light brighter than any human eyes could withstand, he disappeared. Zeuasa looked up into the dark sky. His deep, booming voice made one last statement.

    “We have only one hope.”
    ______________________________________…

    I woke up coughing. Rain was landing in my throat and I couldn’t help but choke. I looked at my surroundings and stood up. We had crashed in the middle of the country so nobody was driving past. I started to look for the ambulance, but then I realize- Kadie! Where is she? I look around once more and see a figure laying in the grass, and go to investigate.

    What was there dulled my hopes of finding my girlfriend unharmed. The passenger of the ambulance laid dead, a piece of metal going clean through his neck. I curse and run over a rise in the ground to see the ambulance in flames on the other end, with Kadie lying on the ground near.

    Looking around, I pieced together what happened. There was a deer lying in the road dead, and I could see where the passenger and I were sent flying. So the ambulance must have made a very sharp turn to try and avoid the doe when the rear end slammed into it. Upon impact, me and the other man were sent outside.

    But that doesn’t explain why the ambulance kept going over the ridge. I shrug the thought away and make my way towards the wreck.

    I’m extremely careful on my way down because the hill is at a steep angle and it’s hard to keep my balance on such a slippery surface; for the rain was making the dirt slick.

    About halfway down the hill, I slip and almost fall. I jumped forward as an instinct to regain my footing, but it sends me flying with my head going towards the slope’s surface. I’m thankful for my parkour skill, because it might have saved my life.

    I rolled along the back of my head and neck in one smooth motion and make for a sprint to the bottom. Thankfully, I make it down safely. I went down on my knees, panting. When I regain my bearings I head towards the still body of Kadie. After realizing it’s lifeless I break down.

    I’d been crying for some time now and kiss her body one last time. But that’s when the strangest thing happens. As my lips part from hers, a gold wisp of smoke goes out of my mouth and into hers, as if guided. Thinking I was dreaming, I got up and walked to the wreckage of the ambulance, rain droplets landing on my face and streaming into my mouth. Strangely, some of them tasted like salt.

    The vehicle was upside-down and I had to lie down to get a good look inside the window. I saw the driver dead, radio in hand.
    Then I realized how bad my situation was. There was a crash in which three people ended up dead, and one that was completely unharmed. I would imagine that sounding fishy to a cop.

    Remembering the fact that he called in help, I get up to take shelter under a bridge, not looking back at the dead body of my girlfriend.
    Soon the sirens sound and I look for an alternative hiding place. I see the water tower of the nearest town and head toward it.

    Halfway there, I see another bridge and rest. Slowly but surely, the rain stops and the sun starts to come out of the clouds. My thoughts drift back and forth, but the subject mainly stays on the fact that my day was so crappy.

  31. I often respond to just this sort of question and give opinions and advice on other people’s stories so I thought it would be interesting to see what sort of response I received for posting one of my own. The sample below is the opening of a short story I have contracted to write as part of an anthology. It is medieval/fantasy and will be somewhat dark. There’s not enough posted below to really give you a sense of the storyline so I won’t bother with that, just please give your opinions and advice as to how it reads, how I can make it better, and whether or not the opening grabs you enough to keep you reading. Thanks.

    The old man was dying; we had no doubts about that. He’d been doing it for days but now his last breaths were close at hand. He’d been a great man in his day; I’d been told that all my life. To me he was the crazy old guy who kept goats on the upper slopes who paid me and my sister to do his work. To my grandfather and those of his generation he was a hero, but they had all died before him. Now that he was dying no one came to see him except the two of us; no one else really cared.

    Not that I cared. I would miss the income from herding the goats and cutting the firewood; hard coins were difficult to come by this far out from civilization, but I cared nothing for the old man. His odd ways and quick temper had turned me off long ago and I certainly didn’t believe the exaggerated tales told about him. He was just a skinny old man with one arm who smelled like goats. What great deeds could he have done? And if he had, why was he living here in Scalville? If it had been me that saved the King’s life and slain a dragon I would have demanded a better reward than a plot of land too steep for planting and too poor for anything to survive on it except goats. I hated goats!

    “It won’t be long now,” Terri solemnly intoned for at least the tenth time as she gently pushed the sweaty hair back from the old man’s brow. There were tears in her eyes. She’d loved the old man and never complained when she fixed his meals or washed his clothes. Terri said that he was like another grandfather. I barely remember our real grandfathers but Terri was older than me. At seventeen she was old to still be unmarried in our village; here most girls were wed by fifteen. Suitors had come from all over the valley as she was far and away the most beautiful girl around, but she’d not been interested; not so long as she had the old man to care for.

    “I just don’t have time for a husband right now. Who would take care of Sir Hugh?” she’d explain, making mother cry and father angry. Father didn’t believe the stories about the old man either and really wanted the bride-price he’d demanded of the potential suitors. A young ox would improve all our lives greatly, allowing us to clear and plant more land.
    Great advice from everyone so far. To answer a few questions that were asked; the anthology is as of yet untitled but will be published by Elmore Productions in a year or two. I need to work in a description of the beautiful Terri early on for the illustrator. As it is a short story I am limited to the number of words I can use, so some details have to be ‘hurried’.

    The story line does not follow the old man’s history very much and the mother and father have nothing really to do with the story. Basically the old man is a ‘protector’ and so long as he lives a monstrous demon is kept out of the world. When he dies it is released.

    I intentionally posted my first draft of this because I would obviously leave more mistakes in the text. Some mistakes I would hopefully catch in rewrites. However, other opinions are amazingly helpful in these situations.

    Please keep the comments coming!

  32. Chapter One

    E
    arth is dead. Or at least it appears that way. A cloud of dusty thick air is covers Earth now. Earth is weathering away by the moment. The humans are scared and are quite. They wait for a sign of hope and a light that will guide them. Save them. But, however, there is a great evil that stands alone. He is powerful. His heart is cold and his soul is full of heavy darkness and evil. He will not stop until his true destiny is manifested: to become king of not only Earth but the whole entire universe. To humans this outer space is known as the universe, but to others it is known as Ukaea. Now, Ukaea is a whole other world. It is a beautiful world full of life and happiness. However, on this day Ukaea is shaken by what has taking over a once green and vibrant Earth. King Simon has seen of what has taken place and has decided to call the council members to the round table and discuss this matter. Simon then stood and cleared his throat to get the councilmen’s attention. “Now I have gathered you here today to discuss the corruption of Earth. It has accelerated out of control and the people need help. They say that there is an evil so powerful it can’t be stopped.” Simon said with a firm voice. Then Councilmen Adicas (the one council member that Simon didn’t care for) said, “If this is true tell me why we should risk our lives to save humans? A nation of people that don’t even know we exist.” Simon bowed his head in irritation and disappointment and said slowly, “I am not going to sit here and watch people die, Adicas and I think you shouldn’t either.” “Well come up with a plan that we don’t have to risk our lives and you save Earth.” Adicas said with a chuckle. He then stood up and said proudly “Meeting adjourned!” And to Simon’s surprise the councilmen began to leave. Simon was upset and shocked because the only person that could dismiss them from their meeting was the king. Simon grabbed Adicas aside and whispered “Don’t ever discomfit me again. If you do I will snap your arm backwards like a stick.” Simon looked at Adicas with intensity. Adicas tried not to look intimidated but you could see in his eyes that he surely was. Adicas snatched his arm away and walked away with a pace. Simon then smiled with a smirk.
    “So how was the meeting, dear?” asked Mea. “Oh, it would’ve been just great if you didn’t have asses for council members.” Simon replied. He then kissed her on the cheek and rapped his arms around her gently. “So it was Adicas again?” She asked. “Yes. He doesn’t want me to save Earth because he doesn’t want to risk the lives of others here. What am I going to do?” Mea then loosened her self from here grip to look out the window. Through their window you could see a grayish Earth. “It is getting worse.” Mea said. “Yes it is.” Simon said quietly. Simon then said to his self “What am I going to do.” Mea was a telepath. She could see the future through visions. In her vision she was sitting on a cloud and beneath here were a group of stars. She watched them fall into Earth. When they fell the dark cloud hovering Earth busted open and disappeared. After the dream she gasped. Simon then saw that she was weak and ran to her and put her on the bed. “What did you see?” Simon said loudly. Mea then said to him faintly, “It’s the children. We must send them to Earth in order for Earth to survive.” Simon was in shock and showed no reaction. She the grabbed Simon’s hand and said “it’s the only way.” Simon kissed her on the head and said with anxiety and slight fear “Then that’s what we must do.”

  33. My day began in the usual way; I woke at the crack of dawn, silently, so that I did not disturb my pleasantly sleeping wife. I struck a match and lit the stove, placing a pan with two eggs sizzling in it on top of it. A bright yellow tablecloth, two white place-mats, and two hand-painted plates decorated the breakfast table. A fork sat to the the left of the plate, and matched a knife to it on the opposite side. Orange juice sat in two glasses.
    After checking the two eggs I had cooking–not yet ready for placement–I tended to the beautiful flowers and plants out in Alice’s garden. Once the soil was soaked, I tip-toed back inside and set one egg on my own plate, and the other in Alice’s.
    Back to the garden I went, and found some rosemary, which I later sprinkled onto our food. I plucked a single rose from the flower bed and set it in a watered vase that was positioned in the center of the table.
    I smile spread across my face as I studied the scene of our morning breakfast. Everything was perfect, just like normal.
    I crept back into the master bedroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hung above Alice’s vanity. My dark hair was untidy, and my blue eyes sparkled. No need to brush my hair–Alice appreciated me just the way I was. No need to calm down my eyes–That’s the way Alice liked it.
    I went to wake her.
    Kneeling next to the bed, my eyes ran over her. I stared for a moment, but then my nerves became uneasy.
    My morning took a turn for the worst.
    “Alice?” I murmured to her through and awkward smile, something strange. I had never felt awkward around her before. “Dearest?” I placed a delicate hand on her cold shoulder. This was not out of the ordinary–She usually was cold when she first woke in the morn.
    I gave her a slight tug, “Time to wake.” I sang to her.
    What I wanted to happen was for her green eyes to blink open, casting off their greenish glow, and for a smile that warms my heart to come. She would ask, “What’s for breakfast?” And everything would continue as it always had.
    I would respond with, “Your favorite.” And we would go to eat.
    I rubbed her arm incrementally and expected just that to happen. But it did not. Harder I went this time and shook her so that she went back and forth. No morning greetings came. Now I spoke in a normal tone. It was not a whisper anymore, “Alice.” I waited one, two, three seconds before speaking again, “It’s morning.” I said, and prepared myself for the giggles that would undoubtedly follow. But there was most certainly something wrong.
    I brushed back her shiny brown hair to the side and my stomach plummeted downward.
    Her usually colorful skin was now a milky white, and her mouth was propped open at a weird angle. Her eyelids seemed a blueish black, something I first made the assumption of being make-up, but quickly came to the realization that it was not. Her eyebrows were frozen in place, but scrunched together, as if confused. Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I took in a shaky breath, and out came a ragged exhale. “Alice?” I asked once more. “Love?” This was almost muted, as it barely escape my lips. I shook her frantically, hoping for a response, any response, a small whimper would ever do, or a cry of despair.
    “Sweetheart? Dearest? Honey? Love?” These words were my frantic cry of despairs, my small whimpers, my response to the body that laid before me. I continued with a small flame of hope that eventually died down to nothing. Each word came faster than the one before, and they eventually became shaky.
    I abruptly stopped shaking her limp body and blinked tears from my eyes.
    “Alice?”
    Nothing.
    *****

    Can you please edit or tell me what you think? Thanks!

  34. It is universally acknowledge that a black man in seek of justice would be killed sooner or later. And that is my brother’s story, he was murdered by whites. It’s hard living without him, I miss him and I still have him in my heart. This is his story and I would take you into a life of misery, pain, cruelty, racism and passion.

    His name was Tom Letrina Garcia Estrada. He was born in New Orleans during the civil war. Although Letrina was the oldest brother, he didn’t look that old, he always look younger than me. Our father was a shoemaker, just like Letrina; he passed away some years before my nephew Ryan Anthony was born, who’s son of Letrina.

    Letrina was an ordinary black guy, who only wanted justice for all black people in America. He had hard life, a life of cruelty and racism where white people didn’t care about blacks; black people were often lynched or legally killed in America. Tom Letrina lived in old house with his wife Samantha Olivia; the house wasn’t all that great since it was made up of mud bricks, and it had a roof that was falling apart. Moreover, he was a poor person who didn’t afford luxuries, but at least he could afford his family well being.

    At some point in my brother’s adolescence he was persecuted by wild people for an unknown reason and almost killed by Christian Hank. Hank was an ugly white guy full of horrific ideas in his mind. “Ha, ha, ha this is your last day in planet Earth Letrina. Your last day… I’m going to kill you Letrina, you have always been a pain in the… I’m going to kill you Letrina.” Christian Hank murmured.
    “Yeah right, like you would dare to kill me, you’re just jealous of me because I’m a happy person and you are not. Am I right?” I asked.
    “Oh go to hell Letrina.” Responded Christian.
    After telling him this, he stayed quiet for about ten seconds and then attacked me with his knife, cutting my stomach into two. It was a big wound, my small intestine were coming out along with blood coming out really fast. I don’t remember what happened next, I just remember that somehow I appeared in the hospital.

    Letrina had a diary in which he wrote his appalling moments, one incident he wrote was a dream. There I was in old deserted street of New Orleans waiting for a ride to my house. As I was waiting in the old bus station I started to realize something in the air. The air was getting colder and the sky was turning weird and wonderful. It was someone being lynched. He screamed help, help, but nobody helped him. Laughs could be heard from far behind. But then some guy screamed out “Hey you, black guy you’re next. Come on Letrina you’re the next one”
    “No, I am not next, I haven’t done anything wrong,” I said. When I woke up I realize I was very nervous and my face was about to explode.

    I remember that night was very dark, and the climate was getting colder, along with a breeze that was gently falling and the police was coming for me. When the police officer arrived at my house he told me “hello, is this Letrina’s house?”
    “Sir, yes sir. How may I help you in this lovely day?” I responded
    “Well… who’s Tom Letrina? Asked the officer
    “That’s me. How may I help you sir?” I responded in a nice way
    “Well… how can I tell you this? You are being arrested for physically abusing Anna Sofia. You have the right to remain silence and everything you say would be use against you.”

    Letrina was taken to court, and in there found innocent of raping Anna Sofia Mc horse. This was one of the few cases were black people were founded innocent, since black people were taken to court to be legally killed, in other words so racist would make more of their own.

    After the judge had told him that he was innocent of raping the beautiful Anna Sofia, he was full of joy plus looking forward to move to another state. He wanted to move to a state in which they would be treated right.

    A month later after my brother’s trial, he was found extremely massacre with his internal organs hanging out, and worst of all, was that he was also lynched; White people made of their own by killing my dear Letrina who only wanted justice. His wife Samantha Olivia suffered for month, she ended up publishing my brother’s diary some years later after Letrinas death. Tom Letrina was killed unfairly, and no action was taken.

  35. She has been telling me she wanted to pose nude for her art class, i agreed to it because i wanted to make her happy. Yesterday, i went to this session with her. The photographer had her standing up on this one mat. Then the male model comes out and he hugs her from behind. But the male model was holding her breast with his hands, and standing behind her. On the next pose, the photographer had her lay on this one bed. The male model was on top of my wife, and you could see her breast pressed up against his chest. Also you could see the male models erection close to my wife vagina. It was touching it in certain instances, but it never went inside her. Also, after that final pose was finished, i saw my wife grab a towel and she started to wipe his c u m off her stomach. But that was the last straw for me. I couldn’t even look at my wife the same anymore.

    After the session ended, they both went into there private room and got dressed. My wife kissed me and told me thanks for coming. Then she held my arm and walked out with me to the car, and she made me dinner. She catered to me that whole night, she cooked my favorite meal. Also, she did all my favorite things during sex that night. But I am still mad at what happened, i appreciate my wife for doing all that for me. I can’t get it off of my mind, did my wife basically cheat on me. The guys erection was on her body a lot for the second pose.

  36. ive been meditating for close to a year and have found great strength in doing so. i was wondering, to anyone who has, what you have experienced, progression-wise, through your practice? im curious to know what life is like for u now as opposed to when u began?

  37.  “No friggin’ way!” Kimmie explained, touching her bare left earlobe. “My earring is gone! Somebody report thievery! My earring’s gone missing!”
    Holly rolled her eyes. She had no idea what Kimmie’s problem was, but it obviously had something to do with her head. Holly and her friends sat in the cafeteria on a Tuesday morning eating their breakfast when Kimmie ran over to their table looking as if she just lost her newborn child.
    “Guys!” she panicked, flailing her arms up and down. “Have you seen my earring? It looks just like the one I have on my ear. It’s crystal, shiny and is worth hundreds of dollars! I think someone stole it.”
    “Check your pocket.” Holly said listlessly, shoving spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth.
    “Why would it be in my—?”
    “Just check it.” sighed Monica, twirling her dark-hair with her manicured finger.
    Kimmie just shrugged and reached into her pocket. Her face shifted into a look of embarrassment as soon as she felt around  her pocket. Holly smirked as she pulled out a beautiful diamond stud.
    “Oops,” Kimmie said, shrugging her shoulders. “I must have put it in my pocket by mistake.”
    “You’re welcome.” Holly smiled, turning back to her breakfast.
    Kimmie stood there for a moment, registering the girls at the breakfast table. Holly wasn’t sure what to make of her. She wasn’t even sure what went on in her head. But whatever it was, she didn’t want to find out.
    “Well, see ya!” she piped, turning on her heel and walking the other way.
    After she was gone, Monica leaned over so her whole table could hear what she was about to say. “What a strange girl.”
    Holly snickered. “She’s sweet, but annoying.”
    “Say it ain’t so.” Jamie joked, taking a bite out of Nutrigrain bar.
    The whole table laughed. So far no drama had went on since Savannah’s breakdown on Saturday. In fact Savannah seemed to be in a good mood. She sat across the table spooning oatmeal in her mouth, humming in the process. Holly was scared when she received the text message from Savannah about killing herself. She kept telling Savannah it wasn’t funny, but Savannah wouldn’t answer. Holly was just glad she was okay.
    “How’s it going?” Monica asked, putting a hand on Savannah’s. “Everything going alright?”
    “Yeah,” she smiled. “I have more important things to worry about than Carter and Nicole.”
    Holly noticed that she never referred to Nicole  as Carter’s girlfriend. She would just mention her first name whenever being addressed by her episode at the dance. Rumors have been flying ever since the night of the dance. It seemed like every time something drastic happened to one of her friends, everyone in the freshman class knew about it.
    “What are you doing your report on?” Dominique Ogilvy asked Holly, taking a sip from her chocolate milk.
    “I’m doing my report on Audrey Hepburn,” answered Holly. “What about you?”
    “I’m doing mine’s on Martin Luther King,” replied Dominique. “He was an inspiration in my opinion.”
    Ms. Livingston had assigned Holly’s English class to do an assignment on a topic that interested them. She had decided to do Audrey Hepburn because she thought she resembled her a little bit. At least that was what her grandmother always told her.
    “What are you doing yours on?” Holly asked Savannah, turning her attention to her.
    “Evel Knievel,” responded Savannah, looking down at her cellphone.
    “Cool,” Jamie said, slapping palms with her. “What made you decide on him?”
    “Cause he was bad-ass,” snickered Savannah, covering her mouth with her freshly-manicured hand.
    Holly laughed to herself. Yep. She’s feeling better alright.
       “Good morning, class!” beamed Livingston, placing her brown portfolio on the podium. “I assume you all completed your assignment?
      A few students muttered in confirmations, but it was hesitant and unsure. Livingston smiled knowingly at the class as she wrote down the assignment on the chalkboard. Meanwhile Holly was texting Megan about her textbook that she left in her locker.

      Megan Finnegan: Srry I’ll bring it to you in a min
    Holly Drake: You can do it during class?
    Megan Finnegan: Yes, it’s not too late. Class only started five minute ago
    Holly Drake: Thanks, meg. You’re the best
    Megan Finnegan: Duh 😉
     
    Holly slid her phone into her pocket and looked up at the board. She only had the basic information on Audrey Hepburn. Not enough to fill up a five page essay. Writing was never her forte. It wasn’t that she hated writing, it was just that she wasn’t very good at it. Her handwriting was illegible and she had the writing skills of a seventh grader. She looked next to Savannah wit

  38. Hello,

    I’m trying to think what that song is in Austin Powers 2: The Spy Who S*****d Me, the song when Austin leaves Felicity on the bedroom and jumps in his car to go to the Lab.

    Hell if I can remember what it is and who sings it?

    Any comments would be great,

    Cheers,

    Simon

  39. I have no clue what to name my story! I have only written chapter 1. Here it is:

    “Lady Theodora, you are needed in the ballroom” said the maid. “But Abigale, Alexander of Browlocksford will be there” I responded. “Whats wrong with him, he is mighty handsome” she said surely!  “I know that, though my parents have arranged for us to marry” I cried. “Theodora, listen to me. Don’t. Worry. I bet he is a wonderful man” Abigale grinned. “Okay, I shall go down, just give me a few minutes” I agreed.

    April of 1883

    Today I am to meet Sir Alexander of Browlocksford, my future husband. I am worried, I am only 16, I don’t feel ready for marriage. What will I do?

    I made my way down the curved staircase, everyone stopped and stared at me. When I reached the bottom of the stair well, Alexander had his hand out for me. “Ah, Lady Theodora! Do I have the pleasure to dance with thee” He asked once he was about to kiss my hand. I pulled it away and made a umph noise. I walked away gracefully and proudly, until I pulled unexpectedly. It was my mother and father. “Theodora, how could you embarrass us like that” My father whispered loudly! “You must make a good impression on the King and Queen of Browlocksford” My mother pleaded! “Fine! I shall do as thy say” I said dramatically!

    I moved away from my parents, and moved into the life of the ballroom. I was about to make my way to Alexander of Browlocksford, until I was stopped, by a handsome man. “Good Evening, Lady Theodora of Lenwood. I am Sir Elliot of Weldon” he introduced. “Hello Sir, It is a pleasure to meet you” I said, trying to be nice. “Would thee dance once with I” He asked? I had to think before I answered. “I would enjoy it very much” I answered with a smile. He led my hand to the dancing area, and brought me fairly close, but not in a uncomfortable way. The classical tune went without end, until it finally finished. He backed of fast, and bowed like a gentleman. “It was a pleasure to dance with you milady” He enthusiastically said. “The pleasure was all mine” I replied.

    I went back to my private quarters to see if I was still looking fine. Sitting at my vanity, I brushed my silky black hair back. My porcelain white skin clashed against my dark hair. I looked at my silver eyes, and full lips, very simple. I was about to leave, when I realized I should write in my journal again.

    April of 1883

    I have now meet the man I shall marry. I don’t know him that well, but I dislike him profoundly! Though a have now met a Sir Elliot of Weldon, a handsome fellow I might say… but alas, I am to marry Alexander.

    I headed back down to the big party, beautiful music spilling out of the walls. Once I was again in the heart of the celebration, I went to find my “fiance”. After a bit of time I found him. I walked up to him, and started the conversation. “I don’t believe we started on the right foot. Excuse me for that, I was being a little too proud” I apologized. “It is quite alright my dear, shall we dance” he asked? “We shall” I agreed. 

    As soon as we started dancing, he brought me close. I wasn’t sure if he knew he made me feel uncomfortable. No, more sick than uncomfortable. Though he did know how to dance, I felt clumsy compared to him. I than realized no one was dancing anymore, but just watching us. I could feel my cheeks go red, I backed away, waited a moment, and ran.

  40. Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.

    To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.

    His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one ugly cat!”

    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.

    Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear- Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.

    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

    He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

    Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, or beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be “Ugly”.
    P.S. JUDY, i never said this was my cat. it’s a STORY! get a life. and thanks to the rest of you for your wonderful responses.

  41. I get very easily attached to things but I lose everything and everyone I get close to so I am scared of letting anything close to me. It has led to me developing severe Social Anxiety Disorder and I struggle with any show of intimacy to anyone and find it hard to understand how to comfort or support anything or anyone in pain though I feel their pain to an extent where it causes me pain myself. I feel as though I am a massive burden for my parents and it is my job to work for them so I do and I avoid any moments they have that involve fun and stay out of things that they want to enjoy together.

    My parents do not understand this. They take it as me being selfish and often shout at me and get angry and hostile. Sometimes they accuse me of being dramatic and stubborn but I do not understand what to do and how to respond in a normal way. Sometimes I stand in one place staring into space but on the inside all I can think is everyone is looking at me/I am ugly/I am odd/they can see me/they know I’m wrong/I am bad/I should die/I deserve punishment.

    I have to cope with a fancy family dinner today and I don’t know what to do or how I will cope but I baked a cake for everyone. I want to hide in my wardrobe in the dark with my eyes closed but I don’t think that is possible. I feel so helpless 😐

    Does anyone know how I could possibly handle this situation?

    And thanks in advance for your answers.

  42. Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.
    The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.
    Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders.
    Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat!!!”
    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction.
    If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.
    Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love.
    If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.
    As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.
    Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.
    Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.
    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.
    Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.
    Many people want to be richer, more successful,
    well liked, beautiful, but for me…
    I will always try to be Ugly.

  43. Her hair was blonde, vaguely white. Her skin was pale— an oddity being that she lived in central Texas. She had long thin legs; her many admirers likened to them to Bambi’s first few moments on the ice—awkward. She looked like one of those starving, coked out models toward the end of their careers.

    Her name was Ida, just Ida. She had a last name, but everyone forgets. I remembered she once joked, “It was easier for adoring fans to scream Ida than Idina Santamaria.” But Ida was not a pop star or model. Ida was an 18 year-old college student, and now, a famous one at that, for she had committed suicide by hanging in her dorm room the week earlier. Everyone on campus whispered her name, all the news stations flashed her picture and an obituary was bought by the school to commemorate the loss. However, none of news coverage could properly describe the sum of her life: Ida was beautiful.

    “I saw her from the university’s café on the first day of school,” I said.

    She rushed, probably to her first class, in short bouncy steps. Her leather knee length skirt was tight, which caused her to take the small steps but it still didn’t account for the cartoonish gait—that was all Ida. Her shoulders were pushed back and her chest pushed forward when she turned to face the group of people in the café. I was unsure if she noticed the unsaid gasp on people’s faces. At the time, I would be surprised if she saw anything: her dark glasses hid most of her face and perhaps it was kinder to believe that was true. The small crowd was not shocked for any polite reason. We thought she looked ridiculous.

    “…and what did you think, Paul?” Dr. Charles Powell said.

    “I thought she looked…wonderful,” I said. “Strange, but wonderful,”

    Ida was not strange in individual parts. The red lipstick, the pink cardigan, the leopard heels, and the perfectly coiffed Monroe hair were all fine, albeit tacky, in small doses. But combined? Well, she must have known she would turn heads.

    Charlie—I called him Charlie because I knew he hated it—laughed.

    “What was so strange about her?” he said.

    “Well, she dressed different. She acted different. She sort of had this attitude that just pissed people off, and trust me; she pissed a whole lot of people off here on campus.”

    And I think that was Ida’s whole shtick. She never said so and she never responded seriously to questions about it, but I knew she did this—the clothes, the attitude, the walk— for show. I didn’t hate her like some of the people who said Ida was a fake. She was a fake. She was a fraud, an impostor, a lie. But she lived everyday to live up to that lie.

    “Well, time is about up, Paul. I want you to schedule an appointment with my secretary for some time next week. If there are any problem, feel free to call me or drop by the office,” he said. “Any other questions before we leave?”

    “No, I’m good.”

    When I left, the sun was setting and the evening was unusually arid. It reminded me of home. Unfortunately, there was no time to pine as I was meeting my two best friends: Tiffany and David. To tell the truth, they were my best friends by default being that they were my only friends. However, I liked them plenty to let them keep their respective titles. We were going to be talking about Ida. In fact, all conversation for the past few weeks seemed to be dominated by her. Even in death, she was endlessly fascinating. Not to minimize the loss—we were all devastated to hear the news—but our collective mourning was short lived as the mystery of why Ida killed herself became center news. And to be honest, we were impressed with the way she, as they say, left the building. Tiffany was brave enough to admit “only Ida can have a biography where her death isn’t the last chapter.”

    When I climbed up the bleaches, I found Tiff and Dave leaning into each other whispering. I had to stop myself from pointing out the whispers were unnecessary—there was no one around. But since she had died, they had insisted on whispering when we talked about Ida.
    I remember watching movies where one character seems to be moving in slow motion and every poor shlub would stare with their mouths open. They would think that every head shake or glance was done for their benefit, but the audience knew better. It was strange then, to have found myself a part of this phenomenon at the Café shop when I first saw Ida. Yes, we were all nonplussed by the outlandish costume and the silly walk, but we soon found ourselves staring for other reasons. Granted, Ida wasn’t in slow motion, but she was slow enough. However, I think Tiffany and David never grew out of their “slow motion phase.” Whereas, I recognized how ridiculous the situation and Ida were, they refused to be nothing but loyal. This made it difficult to discuss the reasons why she might have committed suicide as they refused to listen to any attacks on her character.

    “What are you guys talking about” I asked.

    David was tall, but awkwar
    I struggle with this story because i am not sure if a reader is willing to read an entire novel around this one character.

    The story is about a college student who is asked to choose a person whom to research. He chooses his dead friend and he finds that what he is looking for has been a fantasy and a mirror of his own desires.

    If course this is a satire on the twilight series; edward being this unfalable angel. I wondered what would happen if i have a character who tries to become this archetype.
    I believe some are confused about the twilight reference. When i say its a satire, i mean its a satire of the characters in the book being perfect. Its not a spoof and there are no supernatural occurrences!

  44. Can someone please tell me who I can make this way more sexier? Maybe u could tell me what i could put in or you could rewrite it i dont care?

    “Come here!” He pointed right in front of himself. Jack strokes the side of my head and places my bangs behind my ear. He leans over and kisses me. He kissed me! I didn’t even have a moment to gasp in surprise. All I could think about was the fact that his lips were pressed warmly to mine. It took a second for confusion to sink in. He stops but doesn’t say anything. We look into each others eyes and I realise how amazingly beautiful he was. Considering that, I kiss him back. I didn’t know what I was exactly doing but I was enjoying it! We keep going and he ends up pushing me against the wall! He kisses my forehead, then my nose, both cheeks, my mouth again and then my neck. He freezes there. I wonder why he stopped, was this too much? Then picks me up, twirls me around and places me on the bed. He climbs on as well and carries on kissing me. He leans back from my face and smiles. I smile back and throw him onto his back so I can get easy access to his face. I kiss him fiercer. He flips me over now. I giggle. He stops.
    “You said you don’t believe in Vampire’s?”
    “Uh…yes I did cause they don’t!”
    “Well let me show you something!”
    He grabs me and somehow we end up standing up on the bed! He kisses me again and again and again. He pulls me towards him and whispers “Sorry. But I have to.” What does that mean? I push back out of his grip. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt too much!” He turns his head and before I know it he ‘s looking at me with big fangs and then I feel this shooting pain on the side of my neck. I try to scream but I can’t get the scream out of my throat. I suddenly feel dizzy, light headed and tired. He pulls away from me and I see him with a red mouth although I can’t see propaly! I feel him lie me down on his bed and I slowly drift to sleep.
    i really appreciate the answers guys!!! thanks. btw this scene is rubbish compared to the rest i have written. x kat

  45. This took place Saturday evening of last weekend. After a long and busy week of work I just felt like getting outside of the house for a while to go walking and de-stress my mind at this local park within range of my neighborhood. However, less than 10 minutes into my walk I was approached from behind by this older man on a bike. He spoke and after I did the same he stopped riding and waited until I had caught up with him and said “How are you doing young lady? It’s a beautiful day, are you enjoying yourself?” Then he asked for my name, age (20) then revealed his age (46).

    But within a few moments of what I thought was just casual talk he suddenly started bombarding me with questions like “Do you live around the area?” “How often do you come to this park?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Are you still living with your parents?” “What high school did you graduate from?” “Have any brothers/sisters and if so are they younger or older than you?” “Do you have good relations with your family?” When I didn’t respond to any of his inquiries right away, he cut himself short and was like “Oh I’m sorry miss, am I making you uncomfortable?” I didn’t answer directly and just said “Have a nice day sir.” and kept going, assuming he would just continue on his way.

    But no. He caught up with me and started with the random questions AGAIN lol “So, are you a spiritual person? Are you familiar with the Divine Light?” From that point on he shifted the conversation into what would become a 2 hour long in-depth discussion about his beliefs in God, 2012 ascension into the 5th dimension, higher state of consciousness etc. He kept me standing there so long (I could have easily left but didn’t want to be rude) that my mother eventually had to come and pick me up herself because by then it was too dark to for me to make the trip back home alone. He introduced himself to her, gave out his phone number in return for ours saying that he would really like to keep in touch and serve as a mentor to teach me some things about life from an older person’s perspective and guide me along the right path. Since then he has called my mom twice, both Monday and Wednesday night asking for her permission to come over sometime and have life/spiritual discussions with me.

    To be honest I really don’t know what to think of this. Something about the man seems quite strange but at the same time I don’t want to cast any judgments on him, especially if his intentions truly are good. Does anyone else still think this is weird though?
    @olderwiser:

    Well I tried cutting the conversation in a calm, polite manner and in fact I actually walked away twice. But he kept riding alongside me and was so persistent with his questions that it was nearly impossible to shake him off.

  46. its not all done but its about a girl who boyfriend dies and she runs away, constructive criticism or positive comments are both helpful. thanks!

    It all started exactly one year ago today. It was just like any normal day. Little did I know, it was the beginning of my new life…
    Before that day my life had been perfect. I had a loving family who always supported me, I had great friends, I had perfect grades and overall a life many girls dreamed of. But none of this could ever compare to the best part of my life which was my amazing boyfriend, Devin. Devin and I had been dating since grade 6, it had been 4 years. He and I were inseparable. He loved me and I loved him in ways few 15 yr olds could ever understand. It felt as if nothing could break us. But that day everything in my perfect little world came tearing down. I received the phone call at exactly 5:36 pm. I dropped the phone and collapsed on the kitchen floor. I couldn’t comprehend the words that the women had said. All seemed like a blur, all I knew is that I wanted no part of it. I ran to my room and threw a few clothes into a duffle bag. I scrawled a note and stuck it to the fridge it read “Mom, I had to go. I’m sorry. I love you”. That was the best I could do. I called a cab and went straight to the bus station. It wasn’t until I walked into the building that I realized I had no idea where I was going. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my mom read the note and sent the police out for me. It didn’t matter where I went I just needed to be far, far away. So when the women asked me where I was going I responded “New York” and shoved my bank card towards her. She looked at me curiously but couldn’t be bothered to ask. She handed me the ticket and off I went.
    Once on the bus I started crying uncontrollably. I tried to imagine Devin sitting next to me holding my hand. He would be stroking my hair comforting me. Telling me everything would be okay. I could picture his beautiful green eyes staring into mine; I was seeing his cute crooked smile and his sandy brown hair. All of a sudden my visions were interrupted, “you okay there?” I was shocked. I looked up and was facing those same green eyes. It took a second for my eyes to adjust and sitting across from me was a boy. He appeared to be around 16. He had bright green eyes similar to Devin’s and tussled brown hair that framed a narrow face. He was wearing a brown hoodie and tattered jeans that showed off his thin but muscular body. His expression was concerned. I realized he was waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine” I managed to stutter. He looked unconvinced, “I’m Rider” he held out his hand as an offer. I took the offer and shook his hand. “I’m Britney” I responded nervously. “So Britney, tell me why are you headed to the big apple?” I could tell he was trying to distract me. “I’m visiting relatives, and yourself?” I was surprised how naturally the lie came out, considering how I’d never been able to lie in my life. “Oh me? I’m simply looking for a place to belong. Perhaps pick up a job somewhere and start a new life.” He replied easily. His answer stunned me for a moment; it was definitely not what I expected to hear. Could he be running away from home too? I wondered but was too shy to ask. I just stared at him with curiosity. I watched as he took in my expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked curtly. I looked into those familiar eyes and the shyness disappeared. “Where are you running from?” I asked with no hesitation. This time he was the one who looked stunned. After an awkward pause he responded “I once lived in California, but things didn’t work out. Six months ago I left home and haven’t been back since.” He then turned to look out the bus window in thought. Minutes passed and I slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
    I was woken when the bus came to an abrupt stop. “How long was I sleeping?” I wondered out loud. “About an hour, we’ve just stopped for gas” Rider replied. His voice startled me, I sat up straight in my chair. Rider laughed and apologized. His laugh was light and easy. Everything about this guy seemed easy. “No harm done” I smiled politely. I felt a vibration in my pocket, I glanced down at my cell phone with surprise. A rush of memories flooded me reminding me why I was on this bus in the first place. I let out a gasp and quickly ignored the call. I noticed Rider was watching me with a mix of concern and suspicion on his face. I ignored him as well. I was going to have to talk to my mom soon to keep her from calling the police. I promised myself to call her when I arrived in NY. I looked to see Rider still staring this time with a smug expression. “Where are you running from, Britney?” he challenged. I struggled to think of a lie or an excuse but all I could manage was one word “death”. I gazed at him sheepishly and I saw understanding in his brilliant eyes. He reached out to touch my face but pulled his hand back. “I am very sorry” He said sympathetically. I then suddenly had a stro
    if you want the rest of the story (there is a lot more) e-mail me at roxy_chick95@hotmail.com

  47. Just curious 🙂
    I don’t describe the woman on purpose. The rest of her looks are saved for later on. this is only the prologue, remember.

    “Max.” the slouched young man suddenly stood erect, pushing his thick glasses up his narrow nose. His light blue eyes met hers for an instant before sliding down her body and staying at her feet as she had previously instructed him to do. She let her blood red lips slide into a small smile. Good boy. She stood up from her throne of obsidian.
    “Are they complete?” she inquired, letting her hand fall on the arm rest of her flamboyantly dark chair, her pale fingers thrumming against it, her crimson nails flashing in the moonlight.
    “Yes.” He responded his eyes beginning to drift upwards, obviously trying to get a glimpse of his prize. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor. Men were so easy to predict.
    “Eyes down. Show your respect.” She reminded him, her voice so cold it could freeze fire, had she wished to do so. Max obeyed immediately, and his eyes dropped to the floor. She took a small breath then continued. “And they are flawless, as agreed?” she asked, taking another step towards him. He quivered in anticipation.
    “Yes. Flawless. Unbreakable. Not heat, nor cold, will leave a scratch. They have no mind of their own, are unable to make decisions by themselves. They are only able to do; and they will only do as you tell them… my love.” She raised an eyebrow. He was bold. A few of them were. Well, good. That would make this more enjoyable. The bold ones would do more then stand there and quiver in her presence. They tended to make things a bit more… fun.
    “Call one in.” she ordered. He dared a glance at her face, and flashed her a handsome shining grin.
    “Only you can do so.” Came his response before he turned his face back towards the floor. She couldn’t help but smile at that.
    “Very well.” She purred. “Tell me what to say?” she leaned forward, letting her index finger find its way under his chin and tilting his face towards her. Her face was inches from his, and she could feel his suppressed excitement throbbing through his skin.
    “You activate them by calling their names. If you want to call a multitude of them, refer to them as drones 1 from 2,777. You can call any amount you wish to. For example, if you wanted to call fifty, you would say ‘drones 1 through 50 come in through the left entrance’ or whatever you wish for them to do. Does this all make sense?” he explained with a small shiver of desire. She smiled at him.
    “Very much so, yes. Thank you, Maxwell.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb, and said, without taking her eyes off of his: “Drone one, enter.” There was a pause. Nothing happened. Max looked confused and the woman rose herself away from him.
    “Need I be more specific?” she asked. Max shook his head.
    “No, this is enough. It should understand…” he looked nervous now. But then, it came. The door opened and it stomped in. Seven feet of seemingly human flesh, glowing red eyes. It parted its lips, revealing teeth as sharp as blades.
    “Master.” The creature hissed. It was a terrifying sight; muscles rippled down its naked arms, veins bulged blue and green under frail looking skin. It blinked at the stunningly beautiful woman and let out a small anxious growl. It’s body was like a man’s… only… different. There was something bear-like about the beast, something undeniably feral. It’s extended canines and scream-worthy claws were evidence enough of that. It sniffed the air cautiously. The woman laughed at her new toy, and slowly walked forward until she wasn’t even a foot away from it. She was pleased with her pretty pet.
    “Hello.” She stroked its cheek and even this man-made creature, filled with anger, hatred, and violence, couldn’t stop it’s shiver of desire. Her beauty was that destructive; it could corrupt machinery.
    “Master.” He replied, looking down at her. “What are your wishes?” She dragged her finger along his face. “I have none at the moment. You are dismissed.” She replied. He nodded slowly, and turned, leaving the two of them in the room, alone.
    “You have done well, Max.” she commented, her back to him. Her sensitive ears heard him rise from the floor.
    “And my prize?” he asked. She laughed.
    “You may have it now.” And with that, she turned to him, her eyes glittering dangerously. He walked up to her, and she grabbed him, pulling close.
    “Cherish this.” She whispered in his ear. He sighed, and she continued “For it will only happen once…” he closed his eyes, and she pulled off his glasses, tossing them casually to her side. With that, she pulled his face close to hers and kissed it.

  48. Hello,

    I’m trying to think what that song is in Austin Powers 2: The Spy Who S*****d Me, the song when Austin leaves Felicity on the bedroom and jumps in his car to go to the Lab.

    Hell if I can remember what it is and who sings it?

    Any comments would be great,

    Cheers,

    Simon

  49. Okay, So me and my best friend ( She’s beautiful! We’re both 19 and going to college together, We’ve never been on ahad sex with anyone, we’ve been best friends for 6 years! ) I’ve always had feeling for her from the first time I saw her, but I fell into the ”bestfriend-zone”. She has a beautiful dark-tan, She has long breath-takingly white-blond hair ( naturally ), she never wears make-up, she’s physically fit and likes to work-out, she’s independent, She’s a bit of a badass at times ( I’ve seen her get angry, It’s extremely scary!) But she has a great heart, she’s sweet and loving. I can’t think of anyone I would rather be with. She’s a gamer also! She knows how to use a computer, She’s very smart. Basically, The perfect girl for me.

    Anyway, As we were walking back to my apartment to hang-out, We were having a playful conversation about what we are going to do after college and I couldn’t resist asking:”What about having a guy in your life? You know, to take care of you and things.” and she smiled and told me: ”I can take care of myself, but if I had to have a BOY around it would be you!” and she nudged me with her elbow and we changed topics before finally making it home, I politely opened the door for her ( I’m always on my best behavior when I’m with her, still we are very playful.) and we played some Xbox 360 like always and she wanted to watch A Knight’s Tale, We sat on the couch and she keep scooting closer and closer, finally holding on to me. ( We’ve cuddled before but this time it seemed different.) She would look at me for a little bit and continue watching the movie. After the movie we listened to some music and I couldn’t help but let her listen to Daft Punk: Something About Us and she had this breath-taking twinkle in her eyes, I couldn’t help but stare..We danced together to a few of her songs and we got tierd and lied down, we talked some more before she started sniffing my chest! ( sometimes she acts like an animal when we cuddle, It’s kind of like our inside joke.) She sniffed my chest, my underarms and my hair, when she got to me ear she started sniffing louder. I laughed with her and we were having a great time! I returned the favor by sniffing her hair and putting my nose through her hair and rubbing her sides, I sniffed the back of her ear and she made a little ”aha!” sound…she smelled amazing..like wild flowers with a hint of vanilla, ”You smell amazing!” I told her and I bashfully put my head under the pillow ( I couldn’t hold my feelings back any longer, but I didn’t want to change our friendship.) She followed me and she still had ”that look” in her eye, I held her close and told her that she is my best friend, she said the same..we looked deep into each other’s eyes for awhile and I rubbed her back and for a girl that wouldn’t have an issue defending herself, she held onto me like she was afraid! I heard a noise and looked away and looked back and her heart-beat starting getting faster and when I looked back at her and her eyes were closed and her was in ”kiss shape” ( I don’t know the proper term) and I..I..I DIDN’T KISS HER! I’M SUCH AN IDIOT!! SHE STARTED CRYING AND i TRIED TO CONSOL HER! SHE TOLD ME ”I’VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU! IF YOU DON’T FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT ME THAN THAT’S FINE!” I tried so hard tell her that I felt the same way to, I listened to everything she told me and I held her and stroked her hair to help calm her down. She’s sleeping now and I’m still in bed with her , what should I do!? She’s never been like this before.

  50. its not all done but its about a girl who boyfriend dies and she runs away, constructive criticism or positive comments are both helpful. thanks!

    It all started exactly one year ago today. It was just like any normal day. Little did I know, it was the beginning of my new life…
    Before that day my life had been perfect. I had a loving family who always supported me, I had great friends, I had perfect grades and overall a life many girls dreamed of. But none of this could ever compare to the best part of my life which was my amazing boyfriend, Devin. Devin and I had been dating since grade 6, it had been 4 years. He and I were inseparable. He loved me and I loved him in ways few 15 yr olds could ever understand. It felt as if nothing could break us. But that day everything in my perfect little world came tearing down. I received the phone call at exactly 5:36 pm. I dropped the phone and collapsed on the kitchen floor. I couldn’t comprehend the words that the women had said. All seemed like a blur, all I knew is that I wanted no part of it. I ran to my room and threw a few clothes into a duffle bag. I scrawled a note and stuck it to the fridge it read “Mom, I had to go. I’m sorry. I love you”. That was the best I could do. I called a cab and went straight to the bus station. It wasn’t until I walked into the building that I realized I had no idea where I was going. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my mom read the note and sent the police out for me. It didn’t matter where I went I just needed to be far, far away. So when the women asked me where I was going I responded “New York” and shoved my bank card towards her. She looked at me curiously but couldn’t be bothered to ask. She handed me the ticket and off I went.
    Once on the bus I started crying uncontrollably. I tried to imagine Devin sitting next to me holding my hand. He would be stroking my hair comforting me. Telling me everything would be okay. I could picture his beautiful green eyes staring into mine; I was seeing his cute crooked smile and his sandy brown hair. All of a sudden my visions were interrupted, “you okay there?” I was shocked. I looked up and was facing those same green eyes. It took a second for my eyes to adjust and sitting across from me was a boy. He appeared to be around 16. He had bright green eyes similar to Devin’s and tussled brown hair that framed a narrow face. He was wearing a brown hoodie and tattered jeans that showed off his thin but muscular body. His expression was concerned. I realized he was waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine” I managed to stutter. He looked unconvinced, “I’m Rider” he held out his hand as an offer. I took the offer and shook his hand. “I’m Britney” I responded nervously. “So Britney, tell me why are you headed to the big apple?” I could tell he was trying to distract me. “I’m visiting relatives, and yourself?” I was surprised how naturally the lie came out, considering how I’d never been able to lie in my life. “Oh me? I’m simply looking for a place to belong. Perhaps pick up a job somewhere and start a new life.” He replied easily. His answer stunned me for a moment; it was definitely not what I expected to hear. Could he be running away from home too? I wondered but was too shy to ask. I just stared at him with curiosity. I watched as he took in my expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked curtly. I looked into those familiar eyes and the shyness disappeared. “Where are you running from?” I asked with no hesitation. This time he was the one who looked stunned. After an awkward pause he responded “I once lived in California, but things didn’t work out. Six months ago I left home and haven’t been back since.” He then turned to look out the bus window in thought. Minutes passed and I slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
    I was woken when the bus came to an abrupt stop. “How long was I sleeping?” I wondered out loud. “About an hour, we’ve just stopped for gas” Rider replied. His voice startled me, I sat up straight in my chair. Rider laughed and apologized. His laugh was light and easy. Everything about this guy seemed easy. “No harm done” I smiled politely. I felt a vibration in my pocket, I glanced down at my cell phone with surprise. A rush of memories flooded me reminding me why I was on this bus in the first place. I let out a gasp and quickly ignored the call. I noticed Rider was watching me with a mix of concern and suspicion on his face. I ignored him as well. I was going to have to talk to my mom soon to keep her from calling the police. I promised myself to call her when I arrived in NY. I looked to see Rider still staring this time with a smug expression. “Where are you running from, Britney?” he challenged. I struggled to think of a lie or an excuse but all I could manage was one word “death”. I gazed at him sheepishly and I saw understanding in his brilliant eyes. He reached out to touch my face but pulled his hand back. “I am very sorry” He said sympathetically. I then suddenly had a stro
    if you want the rest of the story (there is a lot more) e-mail me at roxy_chick95@hotmail.com

  51. Chapter One

    E
    arth is dead. Or at least it appears that way. A cloud of dusty thick air is covers Earth now. Earth is weathering away by the moment. The humans are scared and are quite. They wait for a sign of hope and a light that will guide them. Save them. But, however, there is a great evil that stands alone. He is powerful. His heart is cold and his soul is full of heavy darkness and evil. He will not stop until his true destiny is manifested: to become king of not only Earth but the whole entire universe. To humans this outer space is known as the universe, but to others it is known as Ukaea. Now, Ukaea is a whole other world. It is a beautiful world full of life and happiness. However, on this day Ukaea is shaken by what has taking over a once green and vibrant Earth. King Simon has seen of what has taken place and has decided to call the council members to the round table and discuss this matter. Simon then stood and cleared his throat to get the councilmen’s attention. “Now I have gathered you here today to discuss the corruption of Earth. It has accelerated out of control and the people need help. They say that there is an evil so powerful it can’t be stopped.” Simon said with a firm voice. Then Councilmen Adicas (the one council member that Simon didn’t care for) said, “If this is true tell me why we should risk our lives to save humans? A nation of people that don’t even know we exist.” Simon bowed his head in irritation and disappointment and said slowly, “I am not going to sit here and watch people die, Adicas and I think you shouldn’t either.” “Well come up with a plan that we don’t have to risk our lives and you save Earth.” Adicas said with a chuckle. He then stood up and said proudly “Meeting adjourned!” And to Simon’s surprise the councilmen began to leave. Simon was upset and shocked because the only person that could dismiss them from their meeting was the king. Simon grabbed Adicas aside and whispered “Don’t ever discomfit me again. If you do I will snap your arm backwards like a stick.” Simon looked at Adicas with intensity. Adicas tried not to look intimidated but you could see in his eyes that he surely was. Adicas snatched his arm away and walked away with a pace. Simon then smiled with a smirk.
    “So how was the meeting, dear?” asked Mea. “Oh, it would’ve been just great if you didn’t have asses for council members.” Simon replied. He then kissed her on the cheek and rapped his arms around her gently. “So it was Adicas again?” She asked. “Yes. He doesn’t want me to save Earth because he doesn’t want to risk the lives of others here. What am I going to do?” Mea then loosened her self from here grip to look out the window. Through their window you could see a grayish Earth. “It is getting worse.” Mea said. “Yes it is.” Simon said quietly. Simon then said to his self “What am I going to do.” Mea was a telepath. She could see the future through visions. In her vision she was sitting on a cloud and beneath here were a group of stars. She watched them fall into Earth. When they fell the dark cloud hovering Earth busted open and disappeared. After the dream she gasped. Simon then saw that she was weak and ran to her and put her on the bed. “What did you see?” Simon said loudly. Mea then said to him faintly, “It’s the children. We must send them to Earth in order for Earth to survive.” Simon was in shock and showed no reaction. She the grabbed Simon’s hand and said “it’s the only way.” Simon kissed her on the head and said with anxiety and slight fear “Then that’s what we must do.”

  52. my heatr is broken….my life is finished and my world is full of dark…i don’t know how i can go on..help me with a answer…

  53. First off, I hate reading and have to do this for a report.

    Pick out of this list please!

    Author – Title

    Achebe, Chinua – Things Fall Apart

    Agee, James – Death in the Family

    Anaya, Rudolfo, A. – Bless Me, Ultima

    Arnow, Harriet – The Dollmaker

    Austen, Jane – Pride and Prejudice

    Azuala, Mariano – The Underdogs

    Baldwin, James – Go Tell It on the Mountain

    Borland, Hal – When the Legends Die

    Bradbury, Ray – Fahrenheit 451

    Bronte, Charlotte – Jane Eyre

    Bronte, Emily – Wuthering Heights

    Brookner, Anita – Look at Me

    Bryant, Dorothy – Miss Giardino

    Buck, Pearl – The Good Earth

    Camus, Albert – The Stranger

    Candelaria, Nash – Memories of the Alhambra

    Carroll, Lewis – Alice in Wonderland

    Cather, Willa – My Antonia

    Chopin, Kate – The Awakening

    Cisneros, Sandra – The House on Mango Street

    Clark, Walter V. – Ox-Bow Incident

    Clarke, Arthur C. – Childhood’s End

    Conrad, Joseph – Heart of Darkness

    Cormier, Robert – The Chocolate War

    Crane, Stephen – The Red Badge of Courage

    Craven, Margaret – I Heard the Owl Call My Name

    Dickens, Charles – A Tale of Two Cities

    Doerr, Harriet – Stones for Ibarra

    Dostoyevsky, Fyodor – Crime and Punishment

    Ellison, Ralph – Invisible Man

    Erdrich, Louise – Love Medicine

    Faulkner, William – The Bear

    Fitzgerald, F. Scott – The Great Gatsby

    Flaubert, Gustave – Madame Bovary

    Forster, E.M. – A Passage to India

    Frank, Rudolf – No Hero for the Kaiser

    Gaines, Ernest J. – The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman

    Garcia Marquez, Gabriel – Love in the Time of Cholera

    Golding, William – Lord of the Flies

    Green, Hannah – I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

    Greene, Bette – Summer of My German Soldier

    Guest, Judith – Ordinary People

    Hale, Janet Campbell – The Owl’s Song

    Hammet, Dashiell – The Maltese Falcon

    Hardy, Thomas – The Mayor of Casterbridge

    Hawthrone, Nathaniel – Scarlet Letter

    Heinlein, Robert A. – Stranger in a Strange Land

    Heller, Jospeh – Catch Twenty-Two

    Hemingway, Ernest – The Old Man and the Sea

    Hesse, Hermann – Siddhartha

    Hinojosa, Rolando – Dear Rafe

    Hugo, Victor – Les Miserables

    Hurston, Zora Neale – Their Eyes Were Watching God

    Huxley, Aldous – Brave New World

    Islas, Arturo The Rain God

    Jackson, Helen Hunt – Ramona

    James, Henry – The Turn of the Screw

    Jolley, Elizabeth – Miss Peabody’s Inheritance

    Joyce, James – Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

    Kawabata, Yasunari – Snow Country

    Keyes, Daniel – Flowers for Algermon

    Kim, Richard E. – Martyred

    Kincaid, Jamaica – Annie John

    Kinsella, W.P. – Shoeless Joe

    Knowles, John – Separate Peace

    LaFarge, Oliver – Sons and Lovers

    Leffland, Ella – Rumors of Peace

    LeGuin, Ursula – The Left Hand of Darkness

    Lewis, Sinclair –

  54. I often respond to just this sort of question and give opinions and advice on other people’s stories so I thought it would be interesting to see what sort of response I received for posting one of my own. The sample below is the opening of a short story I have contracted to write as part of an anthology. It is medieval/fantasy and will be somewhat dark. There’s not enough posted below to really give you a sense of the storyline so I won’t bother with that, just please give your opinions and advice as to how it reads, how I can make it better, and whether or not the opening grabs you enough to keep you reading. Thanks.

    The old man was dying; we had no doubts about that. He’d been doing it for days but now his last breaths were close at hand. He’d been a great man in his day; I’d been told that all my life. To me he was the crazy old guy who kept goats on the upper slopes who paid me and my sister to do his work. To my grandfather and those of his generation he was a hero, but they had all died before him. Now that he was dying no one came to see him except the two of us; no one else really cared.

    Not that I cared. I would miss the income from herding the goats and cutting the firewood; hard coins were difficult to come by this far out from civilization, but I cared nothing for the old man. His odd ways and quick temper had turned me off long ago and I certainly didn’t believe the exaggerated tales told about him. He was just a skinny old man with one arm who smelled like goats. What great deeds could he have done? And if he had, why was he living here in Scalville? If it had been me that saved the King’s life and slain a dragon I would have demanded a better reward than a plot of land too steep for planting and too poor for anything to survive on it except goats. I hated goats!

    “It won’t be long now,” Terri solemnly intoned for at least the tenth time as she gently pushed the sweaty hair back from the old man’s brow. There were tears in her eyes. She’d loved the old man and never complained when she fixed his meals or washed his clothes. Terri said that he was like another grandfather. I barely remember our real grandfathers but Terri was older than me. At seventeen she was old to still be unmarried in our village; here most girls were wed by fifteen. Suitors had come from all over the valley as she was far and away the most beautiful girl around, but she’d not been interested; not so long as she had the old man to care for.

    “I just don’t have time for a husband right now. Who would take care of Sir Hugh?” she’d explain, making mother cry and father angry. Father didn’t believe the stories about the old man either and really wanted the bride-price he’d demanded of the potential suitors. A young ox would improve all our lives greatly, allowing us to clear and plant more land.
    Great advice from everyone so far. To answer a few questions that were asked; the anthology is as of yet untitled but will be published by Elmore Productions in a year or two. I need to work in a description of the beautiful Terri early on for the illustrator. As it is a short story I am limited to the number of words I can use, so some details have to be ‘hurried’.

    The story line does not follow the old man’s history very much and the mother and father have nothing really to do with the story. Basically the old man is a ‘protector’ and so long as he lives a monstrous demon is kept out of the world. When he dies it is released.

    I intentionally posted my first draft of this because I would obviously leave more mistakes in the text. Some mistakes I would hopefully catch in rewrites. However, other opinions are amazingly helpful in these situations.

    Please keep the comments coming!

  55. This is an excerpt of the last part of the first chapter, “Sinner”. The story, Cimmerian River, is a fantasy paranormal novel and I really want it to be good. Please do take a look and please give some comments. Thanks!

    It didn’t take very long for me to reach Brooklyn Bridge. Though the rains had stopped the dark curves of the greyed clouds continued it deep rumbling, glowering upon the earth.

    I glared back at the skies, pulling my jacket tighter around myself.

    Amid the throng of people striding steadily across the bridge, I stopped in its middle. I shut my eyes, hands tightening around the rails, before I opened them again as I always did.

    The wind of salt and sea lashed my hair back as the East River twisted and swirled its seductive dance beneath my feet. Black cracks drove through the stone, wind-bitten and rough beneath my fingers. Under the failing sunlight, all was grey.

    I inhaled deeply, relishing the salty, polluted air.

    Brooklyn Bridge was beautiful. It was old, cracked, and salt-stained, but beautiful. I loved the height. With the rippling winds and rolling clouds, it was the closest I could feel to flying. Like with a single step forward, I could fly into an oblivion and never come back.

    I walked it constantly with my father, when he was still alive. He would raise a hand, gesture to the distance and say, “You can see everything from here.” He was as free as I could ever remember the moment he stepped foot on the bridge, the stress lines on his face replaced instantly with a crinkle-eyed smile that would had me grinning like an idiot alongside him.

    “I can see everything,” I whispered, then fisted my hand and pounded it against the stone, the stinging pain coupled with a frustrated anger. No, I couldn’t see everything. Everything was dark and dull and had the word ‘loss’ written all over it.

    My father died when I was twelve. Logan was dead while I had lived, albeit scarred. I did not think I could watch Cristian Kane walk away, even though he would be back. Maybe I had to, because I was a sinner.

    “Kasia!”

    I twisted instantly, eyes latching on Cristian as he sprinted towards me. My heart hammered, and it wasn’t because he was here. Forced into movement by the sinking feeling of my stomach, I started towards him as he shouted something else that was lost in the feral crash of thunder. Only was I closer that I saw his lips move in a single word:

    Run.

    Everything was slow. Those who heard Cristian stopped walking, confused. They turned in the direction he had come from, and their eyes opened wide.

    It was suddenly cold. Then somebody screamed.

    The crowd surged against me as I darted towards Cristian, abandoning all caution. Ear-splitting cries clouded all else. Cables snapped and the bridge dipped dangerously. I slipped downward instinctively, finding balance as people stumbled.

    I didn’t know why I didn’t run. People screamed. They threw others in their wake as they fled whatever was coming. Oddly disconnected from their panic, I shoved forward.

    My eyes never left his. As we closed the distance between us, I raised my hand, and he mirrored my movement.

    I should have looked away, but I didn’t. I should have listened when he shouted for me to run, but I didn’t. And the price I had to pay was to watch him stop a few feet away from me, pale blue irises fixed briefly on mine. Then he blinked, and there was nothing left in them. No fear, no sorrow, not even regret.

    He took a step forward before his knees gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor, revealing the knife that stabbed his back.

    I howled, the desperation exploding with a vengeance.

    Around me, something kindled. I was forced to the ground as fire responded to my cry with a roared, and paired with it, the high-pitched keen of strained cables. Something crashed violently to the ground. In an instant, my vision was washed in red.

    The colours would have been mesmerizing. A vortex of red, orange, yellow and white that twirled their harsh, resplendent ballet around me. But the flames swallowed everything in their path. They flared, impassioned and irascible. They would burn the world to ashes—starting with Cristian.
    I lunged forward into the flames, instincts primal and feral. I gripped the hilt of the dagger and tore it from his flesh, and pressed a hand to his chest.

    The crimson pool around him reflected the dance of the flames. I felt their heat, but I no longer feared them. Blood flowed steadily, lovers to a call.

    At that, something snapped within me. A low melody was building up in the midst of the violence, rising into a violent scream. It grew louder and harsher, until it reached a crescendo, and then—

    Silence.

    There was nothing left. Cristian didn’t move, and with his stillness, the flames had cowered.

    Suddenly, I realized: the price of being a sinner wasn’t watching Cristian walk away.

    It was watching him die while I lived.

  56. Her hair was blonde, vaguely white; her skin pale— an oddity being that she lived in central Texas. She had long thin legs; her many admirers likened to them to Bambi’s first few moments on the ice—awkward. She looked like one of those starving, coked out models toward the end of their careers.

    Her name was Ida, just Ida. She had a last name, but everyone always forgets. I remembered she once joked, “It was easier for adoring fans to scream Ida than Idina Santamaria.” But Ida was not a pop star or model. Ida was an 18 year-old college student, and now, a famous one at that, for she had committed suicide by hanging in her dorm room the week earlier. Everyone on campus whispered her name, all the news stations flashed her picture and an obituary was bought by the school to commemorate the loss. However, none of news coverage could properly describe the sum of her life: Ida was beautiful.

    “I saw her from the university’s café on the first day of school,” I said.

    She rushed, probably to her first class, in short bouncy steps. Her leather knee length skirt was tight, which caused her to take the small steps, but it still didn’t account for the cartoonish gait—that was all Ida. Her shoulders were pushed back and her chest pushed forward when she turned to face the group of people in the café. I was unsure if she noticed the unsaid gasp on people’s faces. At the time, I would be surprised if she saw anything: her dark glasses hid most of her face and perhaps it was kinder to believe that was true; the small crowd was not shocked for any polite reason. We thought she looked ridiculous.

    “…and what did you think, Paul?” Dr. Charles Powell said.

    “I thought she looked…wonderful,” I said. “Strange, but wonderful,”

    Ida was not strange in individual parts. The red lipstick, the pink cardigan, the leopard heels, and the perfectly quaffed Monroe hair were all fine, albeit tacky, in small doses. But combined? Well, she must have known she would turn heads.

    Charlie—I called him Charlie because I knew he hated it—laughed.

    “What was so strange about her?” he said.

    “Well, she dressed different. She acted different. She sort of had this attitude that just pissed people off, and trust me; she pissed a whole lot of people off here on campus,”

    And I think that was Ida’s whole shtick. She never said so and she never responded seriously to questions about it, but I knew she did this—the clothes, the attitude, the walk— for show. I didn’t hate her though like some of the people who said Ida was a fake. She was a fake. She was a fraud, an impostor, a lie. But she lived everyday to live up to that lie.
    I was sort of inspired yesterday by an interview between a Paris Hilton and was reminded of an author’s grumblings about the “perfect girl/guy” archetype presented in popular fiction.

    I was interested in using this stereotype in a different way by imagining a person aspiring to be what author John Green calls the “manic fairy pixie girl.”

    I’m unconvinced whether or not this subject has legs. What do you think?

    ***BTW all twilight books contain this horrible cliche in a non-ironic way.

  57. Hi all,

    I have been fighting depression since I was 15 (I am now 33). I liked who I was, I had lots of friends am atheltic etc but I woke up one day and my life had changed. The world seemed black and white, I couldn’t think clearly and it’s as if the brain cells responsible for responding to good stimuli don’t work anymore. I have tried numerous anti-depressants over the years that just make me feel worse. Now i have also developed chronic pain in both my temples. Like I said I like who i am and I would like my life if I didn’t have this illness – I just never feel good! I’m not sure what I am suppose to do.

    Both my father and his grandfather had this illness and both committed suicide. I feel like dying so bad if this illness is going to continue forever. I also have no friends or family with depression so I feel like the only one. This is hard on so many levels.

  58. Chapter One

    E
    arth is dead. Or at least it appears that way. A cloud of dusty thick air is covers Earth now. Earth is weathering away by the moment. The humans are scared and are quite. They wait for a sign of hope and a light that will guide them. Save them. But, however, there is a great evil that stands alone. He is powerful. His heart is cold and his soul is full of heavy darkness and evil. He will not stop until his true destiny is manifested: to become king of not only Earth but the whole entire universe. To humans this outer space is known as the universe, but to others it is known as Ukaea. Now, Ukaea is a whole other world. It is a beautiful world full of life and happiness. However, on this day Ukaea is shaken by what has taking over a once green and vibrant Earth. King Simon has seen of what has taken place and has decided to call the council members to the round table and discuss this matter. Simon then stood and cleared his throat to get the councilmen’s attention. “Now I have gathered you here today to discuss the corruption of Earth. It has accelerated out of control and the people need help. They say that there is an evil so powerful it can’t be stopped.” Simon said with a firm voice. Then Councilmen Adicas (the one council member that Simon didn’t care for) said, “If this is true tell me why we should risk our lives to save humans? A nation of people that don’t even know we exist.” Simon bowed his head in irritation and disappointment and said slowly, “I am not going to sit here and watch people die, Adicas and I think you shouldn’t either.” “Well come up with a plan that we don’t have to risk our lives and you save Earth.” Adicas said with a chuckle. He then stood up and said proudly “Meeting adjourned!” And to Simon’s surprise the councilmen began to leave. Simon was upset and shocked because the only person that could dismiss them from their meeting was the king. Simon grabbed Adicas aside and whispered “Don’t ever discomfit me again. If you do I will snap your arm backwards like a stick.” Simon looked at Adicas with intensity. Adicas tried not to look intimidated but you could see in his eyes that he surely was. Adicas snatched his arm away and walked away with a pace. Simon then smiled with a smirk.
    “So how was the meeting, dear?” asked Mea. “Oh, it would’ve been just great if you didn’t have asses for council members.” Simon replied. He then kissed her on the cheek and rapped his arms around her gently. “So it was Adicas again?” She asked. “Yes. He doesn’t want me to save Earth because he doesn’t want to risk the lives of others here. What am I going to do?” Mea then loosened her self from here grip to look out the window. Through their window you could see a grayish Earth. “It is getting worse.” Mea said. “Yes it is.” Simon said quietly. Simon then said to his self “What am I going to do.” Mea was a telepath. She could see the future through visions. In her vision she was sitting on a cloud and beneath here were a group of stars. She watched them fall into Earth. When they fell the dark cloud hovering Earth busted open and disappeared. After the dream she gasped. Simon then saw that she was weak and ran to her and put her on the bed. “What did you see?” Simon said loudly. Mea then said to him faintly, “It’s the children. We must send them to Earth in order for Earth to survive.” Simon was in shock and showed no reaction. She the grabbed Simon’s hand and said “it’s the only way.” Simon kissed her on the head and said with anxiety and slight fear “Then that’s what we must do.”

  59. For an English assignment, I have to choose from a list of books. I’m thirteen years old (in eighth grade), but my school’s standards are pretty high. Here’s the list (it’s REALLY long!):

    James Agee — A Death in the Family
    Maya Angelou — I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
    Jane Austen — Pride and Prejudice (I don’t really want to read this one)
    James Baldwin — Go Tell It on the Mountain
    Hal G. Borland — When the Legends Die
    Ray Bradbury — Fahrenheit 451
    Ray Bradbury — The Martian Chronicles
    Charlotte Bronte — Jane Eyre
    Emily Bronte — Wuthering Heights
    Dee Brown — Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
    Pearl Buck — The Good Earth
    Willa Cather — My Antonia
    Willa Cather — Death Comes for the Archbishop
    Miguel de Cervantes — Don Quixote
    Wilkie Collins — The Moonstone
    Joseph Conrad — Heart of Darkness
    James Fenimore Cooper — The Last of the Mohicans
    Robert Cormier — The Chocolate War
    Stephen Crane — The Red Badge of Courage
    Daniel Defoe — Robinson Crusoe
    Charles Dickens — A Tale of Two Cities
    Charles Dickens — Great Expectations
    Charles Dickens — David Copperfield
    Charles Dickens — Oliver Twist (probably not going to read this one; people told me it was hard)
    Michael Dorris — A Yellow Raft in Blue Water
    Fyodor Dostoyevsky — Crime and Punishment
    Sir Arthur Conan Doyle — The Complete Sherlock Holmes
    Theodore Dreiser — An American Tragedy
    Daphne Du Maurier — Rebecca
    George Eliot — The Mill on the Floss
    Ralph Ellison — Invisible Man
    William Faulkner — As I Lay Dying
    F. Scott Fitzgerald — The Great Gatsby
    Ernest Gaines — The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman
    Joanne Greenburg — I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
    Thomas Hardy — The Return of the Native
    Thomas Hardy — Far From the Maddening Crowd
    Nathaniel Hawthorne — The Scarlet Letter
    Joseph Heller — Catch-22
    Ernest Hemingway — A Farewell to Arms
    Ernest Hemingway — For Whom the Bell Tolls
    Ernest Hemingway — The Sun Also Rises
    Frank Herbert — Dune
    John Hersey — A Bell for Adano
    Victor Hugo — The Hunchback of Notre Dame
    Victor Hugo — Les Miserables
    Aldous Huxley — Brave New World
    Helen Keller — The Story of My Life (I’m interested in this book)
    Daniel Keyes — Flowers for Algernon
    Rudyard Kipling — Kim
    John Knowles — A Separate Peace
    Jerzy Kosinski — The Painted Bird
    Herman Melville — Moby Dick
    Margaret Mitchell — Gone With the Wind
    George Orwell — Animal Farm
    George Orwell — 1984
    Alan Paton — Cry the Beloved Country
    Sylvia Plath — The Bell Jar
    Chaim Potok — The Chosen
    Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings — The Yearling
    William Saroyan — The Human Comedy
    Sir Walter Scott — Ivanhoe
    Mary Shelley — Frankenstein
    John Steinbeck — The Grapes of Wrath
    Robert Louis Stevenson — Treasure Island
    Robert Louis Stevenson — The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (don’t really want to read this)
    Robert Louis Stevenson — Kidnapped
    Bram Stoker — Dracula
    Harriet Beecher Stowe — Uncle Tom’s Cabin
    Jonathan Swift — Gulliver’s Travels
    Amy Tan — The Joy Luck Club
    Mark Twain — The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (most likely NOT reading this; I disliked Tom Sawyer)
    Robert Penn Warren — All the King’s Men
    H. G. Wells — The Time Machine
    Richard Wright — Native Son

    I know it’s a lot to ask for, but if you could look at some of these titles, and if you’ve read any of them, could you just let me know what the level of difficulty is? I don’t need to know what it’s about or anything. I’d also like to know how long the book is, but it’s okay if you don’t include that. Also, if you have an opinion on what you think I might like best (as an eighth grader), please please please include that!

    Thank you SO SO SO much!

  60. My gf and have been together for almost 2 whole years now! our relationship till the past one month was pretty good and normal! but its since the past one month that things have DRASTICALLY changed.
    Before i asked her out she was this extremely shy person who was an introvert and was VERY low on self esteem. in the course of two years i’ve helped her lose a little bit of her shyness and the insecurity but its still very negligible. she used to barely talk to me for the first few months cuz she was so shy. now she has changed a lot! she loves a lot and i know that i mean the world to her! i love more than anything in this world and have always dreamt of marrying her. but like i said those feeling seem to be fading away! 🙁 my gf has always considered herself to be ugly, talent less, good for nothing person who can do nothing good in life and so she prefers to be a wallflower! i have done my best to make her feel beautiful and wanted cuz she really is pretty! but she never believes that!
    since the past month she’s always crying and depressed as to how useless she is. and this has made it very hard for me. cuz most of the times she removes her frustration on me! and its just seem very unfair to me cuz im the ONLY person in her life who makes her feel like she is amazing! i confessed today that she has gotten lot more disinterested int he relation and has somewhat become boring! if we fight she never responds properly..she’ll just keep quite he entire time and its so hard for me cuz im always the one trying to fix this relationship and not let it slip away! she lacks any sort of confidence as a person..even in terms of our physical relationship! 🙁 no amount of praises or encouragement seems to make her feel otherwise! im just kind of fed up and have reached saturation! I love her to death and i dont wanna lose her..but it just seems like there is absolutely no SPARK in our relationship! 🙁 please tell me what im supposed to do? ive discussed all of this with her today but she just doesnt seem to say anything! 🙁

  61. First off, I hate reading and have to do this for a report.

    Pick out of this list please!

    Author – Title

    Achebe, Chinua – Things Fall Apart

    Agee, James – Death in the Family

    Anaya, Rudolfo, A. – Bless Me, Ultima

    Arnow, Harriet – The Dollmaker

    Austen, Jane – Pride and Prejudice

    Azuala, Mariano – The Underdogs

    Baldwin, James – Go Tell It on the Mountain

    Borland, Hal – When the Legends Die

    Bradbury, Ray – Fahrenheit 451

    Bronte, Charlotte – Jane Eyre

    Bronte, Emily – Wuthering Heights

    Brookner, Anita – Look at Me

    Bryant, Dorothy – Miss Giardino

    Buck, Pearl – The Good Earth

    Camus, Albert – The Stranger

    Candelaria, Nash – Memories of the Alhambra

    Carroll, Lewis – Alice in Wonderland

    Cather, Willa – My Antonia

    Chopin, Kate – The Awakening

    Cisneros, Sandra – The House on Mango Street

    Clark, Walter V. – Ox-Bow Incident

    Clarke, Arthur C. – Childhood’s End

    Conrad, Joseph – Heart of Darkness

    Cormier, Robert – The Chocolate War

    Crane, Stephen – The Red Badge of Courage

    Craven, Margaret – I Heard the Owl Call My Name

    Dickens, Charles – A Tale of Two Cities

    Doerr, Harriet – Stones for Ibarra

    Dostoyevsky, Fyodor – Crime and Punishment

    Ellison, Ralph – Invisible Man

    Erdrich, Louise – Love Medicine

    Faulkner, William – The Bear

    Fitzgerald, F. Scott – The Great Gatsby

    Flaubert, Gustave – Madame Bovary

    Forster, E.M. – A Passage to India

    Frank, Rudolf – No Hero for the Kaiser

    Gaines, Ernest J. – The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman

    Garcia Marquez, Gabriel – Love in the Time of Cholera

    Golding, William – Lord of the Flies

    Green, Hannah – I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

    Greene, Bette – Summer of My German Soldier

    Guest, Judith – Ordinary People

    Hale, Janet Campbell – The Owl’s Song

    Hammet, Dashiell – The Maltese Falcon

    Hardy, Thomas – The Mayor of Casterbridge

    Hawthrone, Nathaniel – Scarlet Letter

    Heinlein, Robert A. – Stranger in a Strange Land

    Heller, Jospeh – Catch Twenty-Two

    Hemingway, Ernest – The Old Man and the Sea

    Hesse, Hermann – Siddhartha

    Hinojosa, Rolando – Dear Rafe

    Hugo, Victor – Les Miserables

    Hurston, Zora Neale – Their Eyes Were Watching God

    Huxley, Aldous – Brave New World

    Islas, Arturo The Rain God

    Jackson, Helen Hunt – Ramona

    James, Henry – The Turn of the Screw

    Jolley, Elizabeth – Miss Peabody’s Inheritance

    Joyce, James – Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

    Kawabata, Yasunari – Snow Country

    Keyes, Daniel – Flowers for Algermon

    Kim, Richard E. – Martyred

    Kincaid, Jamaica – Annie John

    Kinsella, W.P. – Shoeless Joe

    Knowles, John – Separate Peace

    LaFarge, Oliver – Sons and Lovers

    Leffland, Ella – Rumors of Peace

    LeGuin, Ursula – The Left Hand of Darkness

    Lewis, Sinclair –

  62. Okay, so this is gonna be kind of long so, sorry in advance lol.

    I’m 13 and I went to the public pool about 6 months ago. I met this absolutely AMAZING girl, but I was scared to ask her for her number, but my friend did. So later that week I decided to get her number from him And i started texting her and she seemed like she really likes me although She didn’t admit that she liked me. But after a while, we just quit talking(I honestly don’t know why)… But about 4 or 5 weeks ago we started talking again. Since then we have gotten REALLY close. And about two weeks ago she told me she liked me a lot.(btw Im way out of her league) so I asked her out and she said that she would if we hung out more. I don’t exactly have that option because I’m homeschooled. And even if I was in public school I couldn’t see her because she’s a grade over me. And last week she started saying things like “her boyfriend” and stuff like that. Turns out her exes best friend just asked her out. He treats her soooo badly. He screams at her when she can’t hang with him. And last night, we were talking, and she was crying with how bad it is. I cheered her up. And she’s always says things to me like “you’re too sweet” and “you’re really cool” and I tell her every day that she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. And she usually responds with either “awe!” Or “you are just way too sweet”. We both have had horrible lives(abusive families and stuff like that) and she cries when she hears things about my life, and I cry when I hear about hers. I honestly don’t know what to do. Has she friendzoned me beyond repair, do I wait for her to break up with her bf and then ask her out, I just need some answers. With puberty and such, I’m just really confused with life. I was suicidal before I met her and she basically saved my life. I would take a bullet for this chick. Please no trolling or rude answers. And PLEASE don’t say I’m too young to date. I love her. Period. Nothing will ever change that.

  63. Okay, so this is gonna be kind of long so, sorry in advance lol.

    I’m 13 and I went to the public pool about 6 months ago. I met this absolutely AMAZING girl, but I was scared to ask her for her number, but my friend did. So later that week I decided to get her number from him And i started texting her and she seemed like she really likes me although She didn’t admit that she liked me. But after a while, we just quit talking(I honestly don’t know why)… But about 4 or 5 weeks ago we started talking again. Since then we have gotten REALLY close. And about two weeks ago she told me she liked me a lot.(btw Im way out of her league) so I asked her out and she said that she would if we hung out more. I don’t exactly have that option because I’m homeschooled. And even if I was in public school I couldn’t see her because she’s a grade over me. And last week she started saying things like “her boyfriend” and stuff like that. Turns out her exes best friend just asked her out. He treats her soooo badly. He screams at her when she can’t hang with him. And last night, we were talking, and she was crying with how bad it is. I cheered her up. And she’s always says things to me like “you’re too sweet” and “you’re really cool” and I tell her every day that she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. And she usually responds with either “awe!” Or “you are just way too sweet”. We both have had horrible lives(abusive families and stuff like that) and she cries when she hears things about my life, and I cry when I hear about hers. I honestly don’t know what to do. Has she friendzoned me beyond repair, do I wait for her to break up with her bf and then ask her out, I just need some answers. With puberty and such, I’m just really confused with life. I was suicidal before I met her and she basically saved my life. I would take a bullet for this chick. Please no trolling or rude answers. And PLEASE don’t say I’m too young to date. I love her. Period. Nothing will ever change that.

  64. This is an excerpt of the last part of the first chapter, “Sinner”. The story, Cimmerian River, is a fantasy paranormal novel and I really want it to be good. Please do take a look and please give some comments. Thanks!

    It didn’t take very long for me to reach Brooklyn Bridge. Though the rains had stopped the dark curves of the greyed clouds continued it deep rumbling, glowering upon the earth.

    I glared back at the skies, pulling my jacket tighter around myself.

    Amid the throng of people striding steadily across the bridge, I stopped in its middle. I shut my eyes, hands tightening around the rails, before I opened them again as I always did.

    The wind of salt and sea lashed my hair back as the East River twisted and swirled its seductive dance beneath my feet. Black cracks drove through the stone, wind-bitten and rough beneath my fingers. Under the failing sunlight, all was grey.

    I inhaled deeply, relishing the salty, polluted air.

    Brooklyn Bridge was beautiful. It was old, cracked, and salt-stained, but beautiful. I loved the height. With the rippling winds and rolling clouds, it was the closest I could feel to flying. Like with a single step forward, I could fly into an oblivion and never come back.

    I walked it constantly with my father, when he was still alive. He would raise a hand, gesture to the distance and say, “You can see everything from here.” He was as free as I could ever remember the moment he stepped foot on the bridge, the stress lines on his face replaced instantly with a crinkle-eyed smile that would had me grinning like an idiot alongside him.

    “I can see everything,” I whispered, then fisted my hand and pounded it against the stone, the stinging pain coupled with a frustrated anger. No, I couldn’t see everything. Everything was dark and dull and had the word ‘loss’ written all over it.

    My father died when I was twelve. Logan was dead while I had lived, albeit scarred. I did not think I could watch Cristian Kane walk away, even though he would be back. Maybe I had to, because I was a sinner.

    “Kasia!”

    I twisted instantly, eyes latching on Cristian as he sprinted towards me. My heart hammered, and it wasn’t because he was here. Forced into movement by the sinking feeling of my stomach, I started towards him as he shouted something else that was lost in the feral crash of thunder. Only was I closer that I saw his lips move in a single word:

    Run.

    Everything was slow. Those who heard Cristian stopped walking, confused. They turned in the direction he had come from, and their eyes opened wide.

    It was suddenly cold. Then somebody screamed.

    The crowd surged against me as I darted towards Cristian, abandoning all caution. Ear-splitting cries clouded all else. Cables snapped and the bridge dipped dangerously. I slipped downward instinctively, finding balance as people stumbled.

    I didn’t know why I didn’t run. People screamed. They threw others in their wake as they fled whatever was coming. Oddly disconnected from their panic, I shoved forward.

    My eyes never left his. As we closed the distance between us, I raised my hand, and he mirrored my movement.

    I should have looked away, but I didn’t. I should have listened when he shouted for me to run, but I didn’t. And the price I had to pay was to watch him stop a few feet away from me, pale blue irises fixed briefly on mine. Then he blinked, and there was nothing left in them. No fear, no sorrow, not even regret.

    He took a step forward before his knees gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor, revealing the knife that stabbed his back.

    I howled, the desperation exploding with a vengeance.

    Around me, something kindled. I was forced to the ground as fire responded to my cry with a roared, and paired with it, the high-pitched keen of strained cables. Something crashed violently to the ground. In an instant, my vision was washed in red.

    The colours would have been mesmerizing. A vortex of red, orange, yellow and white that twirled their harsh, resplendent ballet around me. But the flames swallowed everything in their path. They flared, impassioned and irascible. They would burn the world to ashes—starting with Cristian.
    I lunged forward into the flames, instincts primal and feral. I gripped the hilt of the dagger and tore it from his flesh, and pressed a hand to his chest.

    The crimson pool around him reflected the dance of the flames. I felt their heat, but I no longer feared them. Blood flowed steadily, lovers to a call.

    At that, something snapped within me. A low melody was building up in the midst of the violence, rising into a violent scream. It grew louder and harsher, until it reached a crescendo, and then—

    Silence.

    There was nothing left. Cristian didn’t move, and with his stillness, the flames had cowered.

    Suddenly, I realized: the price of being a sinner wasn’t watching Cristian walk away.

    It was watching him die while I lived.

  65. Hello there! I’m 13 and happened to just write or edit this and need some honest criticism on this. I’d like to know if it’s good or bad? If it’s bad then what can I do to improve it? I also want to know if I capture the feeling of the angel good enough, Thank you so very much if you respond! Also is it okay if I give away this much in the beginning? Cause the rest is supposed to be about her sneaking into a Catholic school to find Elisabeth?

    When people try to imagine what an angel looks like, they most commonly picture us as beautiful, spiritual creatures. People think that we have soft, pale skin , golden sparkling halo’s above our heads, and that we dress in white, flowing robes twenty-four hours.

    Well, I’m sorry to rain on your imagination, but not all of us are like that. In fact, if people could just open their eye’s once in a while. They’d actually see me. That nearly invisible little girl, with mousy brown hair huddled under an oak tree trying to escape the rain

    I probably don’t look like that spiritual creature you were trying to imagine a moment ago, with the pale skin, halo and robes. Though I do have wings, and I am a very important angel: a guardian angel in fact.

    It was raining again for the billionth time today, so I was waiting for the rain to pass by standing under a tall oak tree on the pavement near a bunch of shops. All around me men with professional looking, black brief cases and business women with star bucks coffee in their hands, walked in their own separate direction. I felt so out of place here, like I didn’t belong. For the first time that I could actually remember it, I felt really, truly lonely. I was tired and hungry, but the worst part was that I couldn’t stop going over my plan and why I was here in the first place.

    First you may wonder, shouldn’t I be up in heaven? Well, yes and no. I could be in heaven but of course I chose myself to go on this quest, and to be Elisabeth Hope’s guardian angel. I mean no one else was volunteering for the job so I figured why couldn’t I do it? Now, I’m down here on earth to find her and warn her before it’s too late of who she really is.
    I’m down here to also prove myself right, to in fact prove to everyone, that I, Lillian Doe, can do this. Everyone, even God himself thinks that this challenge is way too much for me, they all think that I’m irresponsible too. Though I think I totally have this under control. Yeah it was way harder then I imagined back when I was applying for the quest, but now I’m pretty sure that finding her will be a piece of cake!

    If only it was, I’ve been searching the entire coast of Monterey California for days! If you think that Bell the head archangel of quests, had actually provided me with enough information to find Elisabeth. Then you’ve got it all wrong, all I really know about her, is that she’s a thirteen year old prophet, and that she lives somewhere here in Monterey.
    It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack only different, like trying to find the prophet in the mortal town before some undenying dark force get’s to her first.
    Super easy right?
    I had only a few more places to check before I gave up on myself with this whole quest thing. Carmela and Oceana.

  66. Just curious 🙂
    I don’t describe the woman on purpose. The rest of her looks are saved for later on. this is only the prologue, remember.

    “Max.” the slouched young man suddenly stood erect, pushing his thick glasses up his narrow nose. His light blue eyes met hers for an instant before sliding down her body and staying at her feet as she had previously instructed him to do. She let her blood red lips slide into a small smile. Good boy. She stood up from her throne of obsidian.
    “Are they complete?” she inquired, letting her hand fall on the arm rest of her flamboyantly dark chair, her pale fingers thrumming against it, her crimson nails flashing in the moonlight.
    “Yes.” He responded his eyes beginning to drift upwards, obviously trying to get a glimpse of his prize. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor. Men were so easy to predict.
    “Eyes down. Show your respect.” She reminded him, her voice so cold it could freeze fire, had she wished to do so. Max obeyed immediately, and his eyes dropped to the floor. She took a small breath then continued. “And they are flawless, as agreed?” she asked, taking another step towards him. He quivered in anticipation.
    “Yes. Flawless. Unbreakable. Not heat, nor cold, will leave a scratch. They have no mind of their own, are unable to make decisions by themselves. They are only able to do; and they will only do as you tell them… my love.” She raised an eyebrow. He was bold. A few of them were. Well, good. That would make this more enjoyable. The bold ones would do more then stand there and quiver in her presence. They tended to make things a bit more… fun.
    “Call one in.” she ordered. He dared a glance at her face, and flashed her a handsome shining grin.
    “Only you can do so.” Came his response before he turned his face back towards the floor. She couldn’t help but smile at that.
    “Very well.” She purred. “Tell me what to say?” she leaned forward, letting her index finger find its way under his chin and tilting his face towards her. Her face was inches from his, and she could feel his suppressed excitement throbbing through his skin.
    “You activate them by calling their names. If you want to call a multitude of them, refer to them as drones 1 from 2,777. You can call any amount you wish to. For example, if you wanted to call fifty, you would say ‘drones 1 through 50 come in through the left entrance’ or whatever you wish for them to do. Does this all make sense?” he explained with a small shiver of desire. She smiled at him.
    “Very much so, yes. Thank you, Maxwell.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb, and said, without taking her eyes off of his: “Drone one, enter.” There was a pause. Nothing happened. Max looked confused and the woman rose herself away from him.
    “Need I be more specific?” she asked. Max shook his head.
    “No, this is enough. It should understand…” he looked nervous now. But then, it came. The door opened and it stomped in. Seven feet of seemingly human flesh, glowing red eyes. It parted its lips, revealing teeth as sharp as blades.
    “Master.” The creature hissed. It was a terrifying sight; muscles rippled down its naked arms, veins bulged blue and green under frail looking skin. It blinked at the stunningly beautiful woman and let out a small anxious growl. It’s body was like a man’s… only… different. There was something bear-like about the beast, something undeniably feral. It’s extended canines and scream-worthy claws were evidence enough of that. It sniffed the air cautiously. The woman laughed at her new toy, and slowly walked forward until she wasn’t even a foot away from it. She was pleased with her pretty pet.
    “Hello.” She stroked its cheek and even this man-made creature, filled with anger, hatred, and violence, couldn’t stop it’s shiver of desire. Her beauty was that destructive; it could corrupt machinery.
    “Master.” He replied, looking down at her. “What are your wishes?” She dragged her finger along his face. “I have none at the moment. You are dismissed.” She replied. He nodded slowly, and turned, leaving the two of them in the room, alone.
    “You have done well, Max.” she commented, her back to him. Her sensitive ears heard him rise from the floor.
    “And my prize?” he asked. She laughed.
    “You may have it now.” And with that, she turned to him, her eyes glittering dangerously. He walked up to her, and she grabbed him, pulling close.
    “Cherish this.” She whispered in his ear. He sighed, and she continued “For it will only happen once…” he closed his eyes, and she pulled off his glasses, tossing them casually to her side. With that, she pulled his face close to hers and kissed it.

  67. I have no clue what to name my story! I have only written chapter 1. Here it is:

    “Lady Theodora, you are needed in the ballroom” said the maid. “But Abigale, Alexander of Browlocksford will be there” I responded. “Whats wrong with him, he is mighty handsome” she said surely!  “I know that, though my parents have arranged for us to marry” I cried. “Theodora, listen to me. Don’t. Worry. I bet he is a wonderful man” Abigale grinned. “Okay, I shall go down, just give me a few minutes” I agreed.

    April of 1883

    Today I am to meet Sir Alexander of Browlocksford, my future husband. I am worried, I am only 16, I don’t feel ready for marriage. What will I do?

    I made my way down the curved staircase, everyone stopped and stared at me. When I reached the bottom of the stair well, Alexander had his hand out for me. “Ah, Lady Theodora! Do I have the pleasure to dance with thee” He asked once he was about to kiss my hand. I pulled it away and made a umph noise. I walked away gracefully and proudly, until I pulled unexpectedly. It was my mother and father. “Theodora, how could you embarrass us like that” My father whispered loudly! “You must make a good impression on the King and Queen of Browlocksford” My mother pleaded! “Fine! I shall do as thy say” I said dramatically!

    I moved away from my parents, and moved into the life of the ballroom. I was about to make my way to Alexander of Browlocksford, until I was stopped, by a handsome man. “Good Evening, Lady Theodora of Lenwood. I am Sir Elliot of Weldon” he introduced. “Hello Sir, It is a pleasure to meet you” I said, trying to be nice. “Would thee dance once with I” He asked? I had to think before I answered. “I would enjoy it very much” I answered with a smile. He led my hand to the dancing area, and brought me fairly close, but not in a uncomfortable way. The classical tune went without end, until it finally finished. He backed of fast, and bowed like a gentleman. “It was a pleasure to dance with you milady” He enthusiastically said. “The pleasure was all mine” I replied.

    I went back to my private quarters to see if I was still looking fine. Sitting at my vanity, I brushed my silky black hair back. My porcelain white skin clashed against my dark hair. I looked at my silver eyes, and full lips, very simple. I was about to leave, when I realized I should write in my journal again.

    April of 1883

    I have now meet the man I shall marry. I don’t know him that well, but I dislike him profoundly! Though a have now met a Sir Elliot of Weldon, a handsome fellow I might say… but alas, I am to marry Alexander.

    I headed back down to the big party, beautiful music spilling out of the walls. Once I was again in the heart of the celebration, I went to find my “fiance”. After a bit of time I found him. I walked up to him, and started the conversation. “I don’t believe we started on the right foot. Excuse me for that, I was being a little too proud” I apologized. “It is quite alright my dear, shall we dance” he asked? “We shall” I agreed. 

    As soon as we started dancing, he brought me close. I wasn’t sure if he knew he made me feel uncomfortable. No, more sick than uncomfortable. Though he did know how to dance, I felt clumsy compared to him. I than realized no one was dancing anymore, but just watching us. I could feel my cheeks go red, I backed away, waited a moment, and ran.

  68. Please?
    Here it is, and yes, it is lame.

    Whoever it is, they are appoaching.
    Their shadow looms over me, and then I see him.
    It’s a handsome young man, about the same age as me, with brown eyes, like a pair of muddy puddles and shaggy dark blonde hair. Although he looks calm neutral, there is something about his eyes that tells a different story, a solemn, dark one. He is wearing a blood spattered lab coat, over a green hoody.

    Thanks a million!

  69. Her hair was blonde, vaguely white. Her skin was pale— an oddity being that she lived in central Texas. She had long thin legs; her many admirers likened to them to Bambi’s first few moments on the ice—awkward. She looked like one of those starving, coked out models toward the end of their careers.

    Her name was Ida, just Ida. She had a last name, but everyone forgets. I remembered she once joked, “It was easier for adoring fans to scream Ida than Idina Santamaria.” But Ida was not a pop star or model. Ida was an 18 year-old college student, and now, a famous one at that, for she had committed suicide by hanging in her dorm room the week earlier. Everyone on campus whispered her name, all the news stations flashed her picture and an obituary was bought by the school to commemorate the loss. However, none of news coverage could properly describe the sum of her life: Ida was beautiful.

    “I saw her from the university’s café on the first day of school,” I said.

    She rushed, probably to her first class, in short bouncy steps. Her leather knee length skirt was tight, which caused her to take the small steps but it still didn’t account for the cartoonish gait—that was all Ida. Her shoulders were pushed back and her chest pushed forward when she turned to face the group of people in the café. I was unsure if she noticed the unsaid gasp on people’s faces. At the time, I would be surprised if she saw anything: her dark glasses hid most of her face and perhaps it was kinder to believe that was true. The small crowd was not shocked for any polite reason. We thought she looked ridiculous.

    “…and what did you think, Paul?” Dr. Charles Powell said.

    “I thought she looked…wonderful,” I said. “Strange, but wonderful,”

    Ida was not strange in individual parts. The red lipstick, the pink cardigan, the leopard heels, and the perfectly coiffed Monroe hair were all fine, albeit tacky, in small doses. But combined? Well, she must have known she would turn heads.

    Charlie—I called him Charlie because I knew he hated it—laughed.

    “What was so strange about her?” he said.

    “Well, she dressed different. She acted different. She sort of had this attitude that just pissed people off, and trust me; she pissed a whole lot of people off here on campus.”

    And I think that was Ida’s whole shtick. She never said so and she never responded seriously to questions about it, but I knew she did this—the clothes, the attitude, the walk— for show. I didn’t hate her like some of the people who said Ida was a fake. She was a fake. She was a fraud, an impostor, a lie. But she lived everyday to live up to that lie.

    “Well, time is about up, Paul. I want you to schedule an appointment with my secretary for some time next week. If there are any problem, feel free to call me or drop by the office,” he said. “Any other questions before we leave?”

    “No, I’m good.”

    When I left, the sun was setting and the evening was unusually arid. It reminded me of home. Unfortunately, there was no time to pine as I was meeting my two best friends: Tiffany and David. To tell the truth, they were my best friends by default being that they were my only friends. However, I liked them plenty to let them keep their respective titles. We were going to be talking about Ida. In fact, all conversation for the past few weeks seemed to be dominated by her. Even in death, she was endlessly fascinating. Not to minimize the loss—we were all devastated to hear the news—but our collective mourning was short lived as the mystery of why Ida killed herself became center news. And to be honest, we were impressed with the way she, as they say, left the building. Tiffany was brave enough to admit “only Ida can have a biography where her death isn’t the last chapter.”

    When I climbed up the bleaches, I found Tiff and Dave leaning into each other whispering. I had to stop myself from pointing out the whispers were unnecessary—there was no one around. But since she had died, they had insisted on whispering when we talked about Ida.
    I remember watching movies where one character seems to be moving in slow motion and every poor shlub would stare with their mouths open. They would think that every head shake or glance was done for their benefit, but the audience knew better. It was strange then, to have found myself a part of this phenomenon at the Café shop when I first saw Ida. Yes, we were all nonplussed by the outlandish costume and the silly walk, but we soon found ourselves staring for other reasons. Granted, Ida wasn’t in slow motion, but she was slow enough. However, I think Tiffany and David never grew out of their “slow motion phase.” Whereas, I recognized how ridiculous the situation and Ida were, they refused to be nothing but loyal. This made it difficult to discuss the reasons why she might have committed suicide as they refused to listen to any attacks on her character.

    “What are you guys talking about” I asked.

    David was tall, but awkwar
    I struggle with this story because i am not sure if a reader is willing to read an entire novel around this one character.

    The story is about a college student who is asked to choose a person whom to research. He chooses his dead friend and he finds that what he is looking for has been a fantasy and a mirror of his own desires.

    If course this is a satire on the twilight series; edward being this unfalable angel. I wondered what would happen if i have a character who tries to become this archetype.
    I believe some are confused about the twilight reference. When i say its a satire, i mean its a satire of the characters in the book being perfect. Its not a spoof and there are no supernatural occurrences!

  70. Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.

    To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.

    His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one ugly cat!”

    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.

    Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear- Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.

    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

    He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

    Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, or beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be “Ugly”.

  71. Just curious 🙂
    I don’t describe the woman on purpose. The rest of her looks are saved for later on. this is only the prologue, remember.

    “Max.” the slouched young man suddenly stood erect, pushing his thick glasses up his narrow nose. His light blue eyes met hers for an instant before sliding down her body and staying at her feet as she had previously instructed him to do. She let her blood red lips slide into a small smile. Good boy. She stood up from her throne of obsidian.
    “Are they complete?” she inquired, letting her hand fall on the arm rest of her flamboyantly dark chair, her pale fingers thrumming against it, her crimson nails flashing in the moonlight.
    “Yes.” He responded his eyes beginning to drift upwards, obviously trying to get a glimpse of his prize. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor. Men were so easy to predict.
    “Eyes down. Show your respect.” She reminded him, her voice so cold it could freeze fire, had she wished to do so. Max obeyed immediately, and his eyes dropped to the floor. She took a small breath then continued. “And they are flawless, as agreed?” she asked, taking another step towards him. He quivered in anticipation.
    “Yes. Flawless. Unbreakable. Not heat, nor cold, will leave a scratch. They have no mind of their own, are unable to make decisions by themselves. They are only able to do; and they will only do as you tell them… my love.” She raised an eyebrow. He was bold. A few of them were. Well, good. That would make this more enjoyable. The bold ones would do more then stand there and quiver in her presence. They tended to make things a bit more… fun.
    “Call one in.” she ordered. He dared a glance at her face, and flashed her a handsome shining grin.
    “Only you can do so.” Came his response before he turned his face back towards the floor. She couldn’t help but smile at that.
    “Very well.” She purred. “Tell me what to say?” she leaned forward, letting her index finger find its way under his chin and tilting his face towards her. Her face was inches from his, and she could feel his suppressed excitement throbbing through his skin.
    “You activate them by calling their names. If you want to call a multitude of them, refer to them as drones 1 from 2,777. You can call any amount you wish to. For example, if you wanted to call fifty, you would say ‘drones 1 through 50 come in through the left entrance’ or whatever you wish for them to do. Does this all make sense?” he explained with a small shiver of desire. She smiled at him.
    “Very much so, yes. Thank you, Maxwell.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb, and said, without taking her eyes off of his: “Drone one, enter.” There was a pause. Nothing happened. Max looked confused and the woman rose herself away from him.
    “Need I be more specific?” she asked. Max shook his head.
    “No, this is enough. It should understand…” he looked nervous now. But then, it came. The door opened and it stomped in. Seven feet of seemingly human flesh, glowing red eyes. It parted its lips, revealing teeth as sharp as blades.
    “Master.” The creature hissed. It was a terrifying sight; muscles rippled down its naked arms, veins bulged blue and green under frail looking skin. It blinked at the stunningly beautiful woman and let out a small anxious growl. It’s body was like a man’s… only… different. There was something bear-like about the beast, something undeniably feral. It’s extended canines and scream-worthy claws were evidence enough of that. It sniffed the air cautiously. The woman laughed at her new toy, and slowly walked forward until she wasn’t even a foot away from it. She was pleased with her pretty pet.
    “Hello.” She stroked its cheek and even this man-made creature, filled with anger, hatred, and violence, couldn’t stop it’s shiver of desire. Her beauty was that destructive; it could corrupt machinery.
    “Master.” He replied, looking down at her. “What are your wishes?” She dragged her finger along his face. “I have none at the moment. You are dismissed.” She replied. He nodded slowly, and turned, leaving the two of them in the room, alone.
    “You have done well, Max.” she commented, her back to him. Her sensitive ears heard him rise from the floor.
    “And my prize?” he asked. She laughed.
    “You may have it now.” And with that, she turned to him, her eyes glittering dangerously. He walked up to her, and she grabbed him, pulling close.
    “Cherish this.” She whispered in his ear. He sighed, and she continued “For it will only happen once…” he closed his eyes, and she pulled off his glasses, tossing them casually to her side. With that, she pulled his face close to hers and kissed it.

  72. Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.
    The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.
    Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders.
    Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat!!!”
    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction.
    If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.
    Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love.
    If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.
    As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.
    Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.
    Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.
    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.
    Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.
    Many people want to be richer, more successful,
    well liked, beautiful, but for me…
    I will always try to be Ugly.

  73. I’ll share mine:

    It was a hot summer night at summer camp. It was the last night of the session, and we were walking back from our final campfire. I was halfway back to my tent, when I realized that i forgot my water bottle at the fire circle. It was getting dark, and it was already 11:30. I told my tent mates that I’d meet them at the tent in about half an hour (it was a far walk). They promised to cover for me if they came around for bedchecks. I hugged them goodbye, and headed back towards the campfire. The embers of the fire were still faintly glowing, giving off enough light for me to see the face of the cute male lifeguard that I’d never had the courage to talk to before. As I came closer, he asked
    “What are you doing here?”. I said, “I forgot my water bottle.” He quickly bent down and handed it to me. He leaned in really close and asked, “Anything else?” I responded “Like what?”. He paused for a moment before responding “Like a goonight kiss?”. Before I had the chance to answer, he leaned in closer and kissed me right on the lips. My heart stopped. We looked at eachother for a moment, and then we leaned in to kiss again. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I ran my fingers through his hair. I jumped up and wrapped my legs around him. After a while, he sat us down with my legs still wrapped around him. He pulled away and said “What a beautiful night, with an even more beautiful girl”. I couldn’t help but blush. “It’s too bad that camp ends tomorrow.” I said. He responded, “But we have a beautiful night, with a sky full of shining stars. We only have tonight, so let’s make the most of it.” We gazed up at the stars for hours and talked about life. Finally, I looked at my watch. It was 3:00 AM! “I should probably get back to my tent, we have to get up early to pack tomorrow.” I said. He offered to drive me back to my tent to make sure I got back safely. At first I refused, but he looked at me with longing eyes and said, “Come on, this may be our last night together.” With that I agreed, and hopped into his truck. The ride was about 10 minutes, before we were almost at my tent unit. I got up to leave, but after a few steps I heard his voice call out “Hey, forget something?” In fact I had forgotton my water bottle again! I went to grab it from him, and he leaned in real close and asked “Anything else?”. I responded, “A goodnight’s kiss”. He kissed me right on the lips and finally pulled away, and kissed me one more time on the cheek. He said “Goodnight,” and I said “Goodnight,”. As I walked back to my tent, I love that he waited for me to wave that I was alright, and then he drove down the dirt road to his cabin. I saw him for a final time the next day while I was leaving, as he checked me out of my unit. There was no one around, and my parents were in the trading post. He leaned in close and said, “forget anything?” and for a final time i said “a goodbye kiss”. He kissed me one my cheek, and we went our sepperate ways. Never seeing eachother again.

    What’s your story?

  74. I had desperately tried to seek professional help for my partner,his problem was only a very recent problem in the lead up to him doing it.It was only a matter of weeks that he was suffering with his condition and i had taken him to a hospital where he was supposedly assessed for mental health treatment,i stayed with him throughout the hours of his assessment only to have to leave because it was the end of the day and visiting hours were finishing As it was Christmas Eve,i had promised him that both his family and I and his children would be returning the following day to STILL celebrate the day with him even though it was a terribly frightening and dark time for him,we wanted desperately to make the best of an awful situation for him whilst the hospital staff were continuing to assess him for obviously further treatment.I had walked out of the hospital after pleading with them to remove his shoelaces and belt considering that this was an institution for the betterment and protection of people going through depression and maybe thoughts of suicide and was told that these items would be removed soon thereafter,well i said goodbye to him,and i walked out to await a family member to pick me up and to hear further details from me of how he was doing and to make further plans to make him more comfortable the following Christmas Day,i went about speaking to our children aged 19yrs and 8yrs,of his condition,and my 8 yr old of course i didn’t want her to know of her fathers real reason for being in hospital so i lied and told her he was in for an old medical problem and my 19 yr old was comfortable with the idea of his dad being in the facility to get help as was his family, thinking that it was the best place for him, but i had my serious reservations,i had quietly questioned my decision over the following several hours that i had done the right thing in taking him there,often thinking and worrying that they should have been more informative when i queried their treatment plan and whether their observations of him were as frequent as they should have been.I received the worst phone call of my life several hours later at 1.45am informing me that police were on their way to see me and to take me to the hospital,i knew straight away that they were going to tell me that my partner had committed suicide,and my whole body wretched in pain and disbelief,and my heart died that moment,and i was taken to see him laying where they had found him in his room,with the same shoelaces i had pleaded with them to remove,they had been what he used,this is wrong,how can we as a society trust in the abilities both professional,and just plain intuition when they don’t follow up on corrobrative from family members to better allow themselves to take extraordinary care of our family members in these facilities.It should never have happened, Myself and of course his children are in disbelief that he is gone forever,and we are struggling to cope without him,Paul was a beautiful looking man,with a huge heart for both me and his children and adored us,i know that he must of been struggling terribly inside so much more than he could tell me,and the voices in his head were undermining his strength to go on,and given the opportunity,the treatment, had it have been faster in coming by the hospital would have begun a turn around for his emotional state,and had the hospitals protocol on observations been more frequent he would have been found alot earlier,he was only on 30mins obs instead of the required 15mins obs and his was not classified upon admission as a high risk and he should have been,based alone on the information i had given them on a recent prior history of an attempt of self harm only 3 weeks before and of his brothers suicide 7 yrs prior,with a history like that he most definately should have been a high risk,has anyone else ever experienced something like this,i feel so alone,and it would help knowing unfortunately though, that someone knows what i have gone through….regards Trace.

  75. the other night i had a dream where me, my sister, my sisters fiance, and a random girl were standing at a counter at the front of what seemed like a store of some sort. this random girl turns to me and says “you know what sean(sean is my sister fiance’s BEST FRIEND) is sooo lucky to have you, i see how much he loves you and it is amazing, you are just such an amazing person for him”. soon after she said this sean walked through the front door grabbed me and took me to a back room. this room ended up being a huge fancy bedroom that was his. he starts to make out with me and starts shaving my vagina!!! SOOOOO WEIRD!!!! then at the corner of my eye i see a beautiful blonde girl who is nude and i asked him “who is that” and he said “ohhh that is the girl that i have sex with, but i love you”. i woke up from this dream freaked out i never thought about sean in that way but now i can NOT STOP thinking of him it is driving me nuts. I told my mom about this dream and she told me that when i was little she had a “vision” of me marrying a guy and the moment she saw sean she thought to herself “that look JUST like the guy i saw my daughter marrying”. so my mom saying this just added more confusion. she said that she held off telling me about this “vision” because she did not want me to think that she is crazy!!!! and to top it off my sister and i talked to sean and asked him who his dream girl is and he said “dark hair, half mexi and half white, and green eyes” describing me almost exactally i thought nothing of this but now all signs are leading to HIM !!!!!! im going nuts !!!!! HELP PLEASE!!!!!

  76. who want’s to be ugly????? read then answer?
    Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.

    To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.

    His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one ugly cat!”

    All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

    One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.

    Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear- Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.

    At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

    Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

    He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

    Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, or beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be “Ugly”.

  77. its not all done but its about a girl who boyfriend dies and she runs away, constructive criticism or positive comments are both helpful. thanks!

    It all started exactly one year ago today. It was just like any normal day. Little did I know, it was the beginning of my new life…
    Before that day my life had been perfect. I had a loving family who always supported me, I had great friends, I had perfect grades and overall a life many girls dreamed of. But none of this could ever compare to the best part of my life which was my amazing boyfriend, Devin. Devin and I had been dating since grade 6, it had been 4 years. He and I were inseparable. He loved me and I loved him in ways few 15 yr olds could ever understand. It felt as if nothing could break us. But that day everything in my perfect little world came tearing down. I received the phone call at exactly 5:36 pm. I dropped the phone and collapsed on the kitchen floor. I couldn’t comprehend the words that the women had said. All seemed like a blur, all I knew is that I wanted no part of it. I ran to my room and threw a few clothes into a duffle bag. I scrawled a note and stuck it to the fridge it read “Mom, I had to go. I’m sorry. I love you”. That was the best I could do. I called a cab and went straight to the bus station. It wasn’t until I walked into the building that I realized I had no idea where I was going. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my mom read the note and sent the police out for me. It didn’t matter where I went I just needed to be far, far away. So when the women asked me where I was going I responded “New York” and shoved my bank card towards her. She looked at me curiously but couldn’t be bothered to ask. She handed me the ticket and off I went.
    Once on the bus I started crying uncontrollably. I tried to imagine Devin sitting next to me holding my hand. He would be stroking my hair comforting me. Telling me everything would be okay. I could picture his beautiful green eyes staring into mine; I was seeing his cute crooked smile and his sandy brown hair. All of a sudden my visions were interrupted, “you okay there?” I was shocked. I looked up and was facing those same green eyes. It took a second for my eyes to adjust and sitting across from me was a boy. He appeared to be around 16. He had bright green eyes similar to Devin’s and tussled brown hair that framed a narrow face. He was wearing a brown hoodie and tattered jeans that showed off his thin but muscular body. His expression was concerned. I realized he was waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine” I managed to stutter. He looked unconvinced, “I’m Rider” he held out his hand as an offer. I took the offer and shook his hand. “I’m Britney” I responded nervously. “So Britney, tell me why are you headed to the big apple?” I could tell he was trying to distract me. “I’m visiting relatives, and yourself?” I was surprised how naturally the lie came out, considering how I’d never been able to lie in my life. “Oh me? I’m simply looking for a place to belong. Perhaps pick up a job somewhere and start a new life.” He replied easily. His answer stunned me for a moment; it was definitely not what I expected to hear. Could he be running away from home too? I wondered but was too shy to ask. I just stared at him with curiosity. I watched as he took in my expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked curtly. I looked into those familiar eyes and the shyness disappeared. “Where are you running from?” I asked with no hesitation. This time he was the one who looked stunned. After an awkward pause he responded “I once lived in California, but things didn’t work out. Six months ago I left home and haven’t been back since.” He then turned to look out the bus window in thought. Minutes passed and I slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
    I was woken when the bus came to an abrupt stop. “How long was I sleeping?” I wondered out loud. “About an hour, we’ve just stopped for gas” Rider replied. His voice startled me, I sat up straight in my chair. Rider laughed and apologized. His laugh was light and easy. Everything about this guy seemed easy. “No harm done” I smiled politely. I felt a vibration in my pocket, I glanced down at my cell phone with surprise. A rush of memories flooded me reminding me why I was on this bus in the first place. I let out a gasp and quickly ignored the call. I noticed Rider was watching me with a mix of concern and suspicion on his face. I ignored him as well. I was going to have to talk to my mom soon to keep her from calling the police. I promised myself to call her when I arrived in NY. I looked to see Rider still staring this time with a smug expression. “Where are you running from, Britney?” he challenged. I struggled to think of a lie or an excuse but all I could manage was one word “death”. I gazed at him sheepishly and I saw understanding in his brilliant eyes. He reached out to touch my face but pulled his hand back. “I am very sorry” He said sympathetically. I then suddenly had a stro
    if you want the rest of the story (there is a lot more) e-mail me at roxy_chick95@hotmail.com

  78. I’ll share mine:

    It was a hot summer night at summer camp. It was the last night of the session, and we were walking back from our final campfire. I was halfway back to my tent, when I realized that i forgot my water bottle at the fire circle. It was getting dark, and it was already 11:30. I told my tent mates that I’d meet them at the tent in about half an hour (it was a far walk). They promised to cover for me if they came around for bedchecks. I hugged them goodbye, and headed back towards the campfire. The embers of the fire were still faintly glowing, giving off enough light for me to see the face of the cute male lifeguard that I’d never had the courage to talk to before. As I came closer, he asked
    “What are you doing here?”. I said, “I forgot my water bottle.” He quickly bent down and handed it to me. He leaned in really close and asked, “Anything else?” I responded “Like what?”. He paused for a moment before responding “Like a goonight kiss?”. Before I had the chance to answer, he leaned in closer and kissed me right on the lips. My heart stopped. We looked at eachother for a moment, and then we leaned in to kiss again. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I ran my fingers through his hair. I jumped up and wrapped my legs around him. After a while, he sat us down with my legs still wrapped around him. He pulled away and said “What a beautiful night, with an even more beautiful girl”. I couldn’t help but blush. “It’s too bad that camp ends tomorrow.” I said. He responded, “But we have a beautiful night, with a sky full of shining stars. We only have tonight, so let’s make the most of it.” We gazed up at the stars for hours and talked about life. Finally, I looked at my watch. It was 3:00 AM! “I should probably get back to my tent, we have to get up early to pack tomorrow.” I said. He offered to drive me back to my tent to make sure I got back safely. At first I refused, but he looked at me with longing eyes and said, “Come on, this may be our last night together.” With that I agreed, and hopped into his truck. The ride was about 10 minutes, before we were almost at my tent unit. I got up to leave, but after a few steps I heard his voice call out “Hey, forget something?” In fact I had forgotton my water bottle again! I went to grab it from him, and he leaned in real close and asked “Anything else?”. I responded, “A goodnight’s kiss”. He kissed me right on the lips and finally pulled away, and kissed me one more time on the cheek. He said “Goodnight,” and I said “Goodnight,”. As I walked back to my tent, I love that he waited for me to wave that I was alright, and then he drove down the dirt road to his cabin. I saw him for a final time the next day while I was leaving, as he checked me out of my unit. There was no one around, and my parents were in the trading post. He leaned in close and said, “forget anything?” and for a final time i said “a goodbye kiss”. He kissed me one my cheek, and we went our sepperate ways. Never seeing eachother again.

    What’s your story?

  79. its not all done but its about a girl who boyfriend dies and she runs away, constructive criticism or positive comments are both helpful. thanks!

    It all started exactly one year ago today. It was just like any normal day. Little did I know, it was the beginning of my new life…
    Before that day my life had been perfect. I had a loving family who always supported me, I had great friends, I had perfect grades and overall a life many girls dreamed of. But none of this could ever compare to the best part of my life which was my amazing boyfriend, Devin. Devin and I had been dating since grade 6, it had been 4 years. He and I were inseparable. He loved me and I loved him in ways few 15 yr olds could ever understand. It felt as if nothing could break us. But that day everything in my perfect little world came tearing down. I received the phone call at exactly 5:36 pm. I dropped the phone and collapsed on the kitchen floor. I couldn’t comprehend the words that the women had said. All seemed like a blur, all I knew is that I wanted no part of it. I ran to my room and threw a few clothes into a duffle bag. I scrawled a note and stuck it to the fridge it read “Mom, I had to go. I’m sorry. I love you”. That was the best I could do. I called a cab and went straight to the bus station. It wasn’t until I walked into the building that I realized I had no idea where I was going. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my mom read the note and sent the police out for me. It didn’t matter where I went I just needed to be far, far away. So when the women asked me where I was going I responded “New York” and shoved my bank card towards her. She looked at me curiously but couldn’t be bothered to ask. She handed me the ticket and off I went.
    Once on the bus I started crying uncontrollably. I tried to imagine Devin sitting next to me holding my hand. He would be stroking my hair comforting me. Telling me everything would be okay. I could picture his beautiful green eyes staring into mine; I was seeing his cute crooked smile and his sandy brown hair. All of a sudden my visions were interrupted, “you okay there?” I was shocked. I looked up and was facing those same green eyes. It took a second for my eyes to adjust and sitting across from me was a boy. He appeared to be around 16. He had bright green eyes similar to Devin’s and tussled brown hair that framed a narrow face. He was wearing a brown hoodie and tattered jeans that showed off his thin but muscular body. His expression was concerned. I realized he was waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine” I managed to stutter. He looked unconvinced, “I’m Rider” he held out his hand as an offer. I took the offer and shook his hand. “I’m Britney” I responded nervously. “So Britney, tell me why are you headed to the big apple?” I could tell he was trying to distract me. “I’m visiting relatives, and yourself?” I was surprised how naturally the lie came out, considering how I’d never been able to lie in my life. “Oh me? I’m simply looking for a place to belong. Perhaps pick up a job somewhere and start a new life.” He replied easily. His answer stunned me for a moment; it was definitely not what I expected to hear. Could he be running away from home too? I wondered but was too shy to ask. I just stared at him with curiosity. I watched as he took in my expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked curtly. I looked into those familiar eyes and the shyness disappeared. “Where are you running from?” I asked with no hesitation. This time he was the one who looked stunned. After an awkward pause he responded “I once lived in California, but things didn’t work out. Six months ago I left home and haven’t been back since.” He then turned to look out the bus window in thought. Minutes passed and I slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
    I was woken when the bus came to an abrupt stop. “How long was I sleeping?” I wondered out loud. “About an hour, we’ve just stopped for gas” Rider replied. His voice startled me, I sat up straight in my chair. Rider laughed and apologized. His laugh was light and easy. Everything about this guy seemed easy. “No harm done” I smiled politely. I felt a vibration in my pocket, I glanced down at my cell phone with surprise. A rush of memories flooded me reminding me why I was on this bus in the first place. I let out a gasp and quickly ignored the call. I noticed Rider was watching me with a mix of concern and suspicion on his face. I ignored him as well. I was going to have to talk to my mom soon to keep her from calling the police. I promised myself to call her when I arrived in NY. I looked to see Rider still staring this time with a smug expression. “Where are you running from, Britney?” he challenged. I struggled to think of a lie or an excuse but all I could manage was one word “death”. I gazed at him sheepishly and I saw understanding in his brilliant eyes. He reached out to touch my face but pulled his hand back. “I am very sorry” He said sympathetically. I then suddenly had a stro
    if you want the rest of the story (there is a lot more) e-mail me at roxy_chick95@hotmail.com

  80. My Mother’s Stories

    My mother felt a sudden shiver down her spine. Rapid electrical pulses flood her veins waking her from a dream of a baby being born. She took wild, rapid gasps trying to steady her pulse. Her golden eyes were wide in the dark night trying to figure out what was happening. The feeling that flows through her body is hard to explain, she herself cannot understand it. Stories have only been told to her about it.

    She always knew this day would come, the day that a special human would be born. The human that she would live to protect until he was eighteen. She hoped that protecting him would be easy; her mother, my grandmother, had told her stories that it was hard for her to keep her father, my grandfather, safe. This boy would become my father.

    Years went by as she tried to stay near without him seeing her. It seemed really creepy to her to be following him from town to town, but somewhere deep down she knew it was important to keep him safe. If something was to happen to him and he died, a part of her would die. At least that is what the stories from the family book had said.

    The time came when she would meet my father; well officially meet him that is. The moment when she would approach him and let him fix his eyes upon hers.

    She takes long graceful strides down the brick sidewalk towards him, her dress flowing in the wind and her corset tight. Her long, golden brown hair flowing down her back in curls.

    The day is beautiful and sunny with chirping birds. The wonderfulness of it being exaggerated by the moment. New booths of flowers and baked goods were set up at the market. She could see him standing with his mother by the flowers, happiness radiating from him.

    Finally she stood before him. He is shorter than her only by a couple inches. His hair is a dark brown almost black, which seemed to glisten in the sunlight.

    “Hello,” she says.

    “Hello,” he and his mother say in response.

    He looks up at her face into her golden hazel with his bright green eyes. There is a snap and tightness in the invisible threads that always held them together over the years. His eyes grow wide.

    “Do I know you?” he asks while watching his mother proceed down the walk.

    “I am not certain,” she responds.

    “Your face is memorable,” he says persistently. “May I ask your name?”

    “But you recognize me, I thought.”

    “You seem familiar, but I do not know your name. May I have it, Miss?”

    “Alice. Alice Marshall.”

    “Nice to meet you, Alice Marshall. I am Antony Edwards,” he says while taking a gentlemanly bow. My mother was not expecting him to act in this way. Thoughts of keeping him safe hold a steady flood through her mind.

    “Nice meeting you, too.”

    My mother told me these stories after I found out our family secret. I do not remember exactly what happened on their first meeting. They went on a brief walk down the brick walk. She said that their bond was unusually strong at first. It had been some time since a promise, or soul mate, had noticed their promise. This usually resulted in a powerful offspring, but this is not about me.

    After their first meeting, my father courted my mother with old fashioned ways, which was the normality of the time. She enjoyed it, so she let him proceed. He was also very protective over her, even though she was the one destined to keep him safe.

    The night is cool and pleasant. They are at the walk where they first met. My mother has plans to tell him her secret, and my father has plans to make her his forever.

    “Darling,” they both say at the same time.

    “Go on,” mother says.

    “Darling,” he clears his throat, “I feel as if our souls were always meant to be connected. My love for you is profound.” He bows down on one knee, exposes a small black box from within his pocket, and opens it. Mother gasps at the beautiful ring. “My love for you will last eternity. I promise you that. Alice Marshall, will you do the honor of being my wife?”

    Mother is speechless, not knowing how to respond to this question when Father did not have the opportunity to know the true her.

    “There is something I suppose you should know before I answer that.” Father’s face grew grim. Then mother’s eyes grew wide.

    “Stop right there. Mister,” a man from behind Father says as he holds onto a gun. Father turns his head slightly to look at the man.

    “Now let us not be so hasty,” Father says to the man.

    “Mister, just give me your money.” The man holds a pause. “That ring, too,” he says as he points at the ring in my father’s hand and shakes the gun.

    “No!” Father exclaims as he puts the box back in his pocket.

    “Now!” the man yells, walking closer to them.

    ***If you want to read more feel free to email or IM me. For some reason when I post additional stuff it puts it at the top.

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