Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
"Why?" She replied.
"Just do it," he said. Both of his arms were held out, his delicate fingers rigid, there was a blue tinge descending on his normally raspberry red lips.
"Just tell me, why," she repeated. She held it gently in her hands, loose fingers, loose wrists, around waist level. She held it as if it held even less importance to her than the stock she put upon his commands.
"Why can't you just do something because I've said so?" he said, and the chill in blood became...
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
Regan the vampire could not move closer. For the first time in his long life, he was powerless. The girl tricked him by her unnatural beauty into drinking the potion. Standing on the narrow path dividing the graveyard he could feel his life ebbing away before she had even touched him with the metal spear. He prayed to his god, unanswered as he predicted.
Just before she pierced his heart she whispered 'I love you but I have to let you go'.
He took his last breath and inhaled...
"Oh God" He thought, "please don't."
Angela had it. The coolest, most prestigious item in perhaps the history of the world. The object to define the suave and sophisticated young man that he was. The item he had so long fantasized about having.
It was an Asiachi-original leather bound notebook. So sleek, so elegant.
So inevitably doomed.
There it rested, precariously, atop Angela's tiny head as she gracelessly threw out her scrawny arms for balance and smiled radiantly to her imaginary audience.
She was in the backyard of their country home playing circus once again, the two metre length of...
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
She couldn't move even if she had wanted to, the butt of the gun felt slippery in her clammy hands but she refused to reliquish her hold on it. The line was a mere streak in the dust, but the signifance of that line, oh the significance that it held. It held the entire future, hers and his, the future of nations.
"Put it down, and step toward me."
"Back off!" She shouted, readjusting her grip on the gun and aiming it squarely at his chest.
"Just step over...
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
"No!" she screamed, spittle frothing at her lips. She waved the knife menacingly towards the rubber coated power line.
"You don't have to do this," he said. "Let's just be reasonable about things."
"Reasonable? When have you ever been reasonable? What's reasonable about quitting your job and becoming a tightrope walker?! You've wasted all our money chasing this stupid dream!"
Down below the crowd gazed up expectantly, silently. Sweat dripped down from his face, gliding noiselessly past his shirt, pant legs and feet, drifting in the air currents down...
Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!" Danielle wouldn't listen. She had never listened to her master.
She held the wand in trembling fingers, pointed end toward herself. "Stay back!" she called. "I'm going to use this!"
"No!" Master Reginald called. He'd reached out, without thinking, a hand. His own wand was in his robe pocket. Could he reach it in time? "You have so much to live for!"
"Like what?" Danielle screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm the worst student in class. Even Betty Browning is better than me at everything."
The master straightened....