He ran into the room, his heart pounding and his clothes soaking wet. "How could you do this to me?" He screamed at Kelly who stood facing him with her arms crossed over her chest and wet red dress clinging to her body.
"Mark, you had a red carpet at your prom after party. DO you NOT think that thats getting a little out of hand?" Kelly responded.
"You don't know the pressure to stay in the public eye. You don't know what its been like for me for the past 6 months. I tried to stay like a normal...

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Her eyes were green.
No, not just green.
Emeralds, yet infinitely more precious.
Like the sea, though far more deep and turbulent.
Greener than freshly blossoming thyme or the scent of mown lawns in summer.
More intoxicating than the green of absynthe.
Greener than jealousy.
Greener than the grass on the other side.

They stared into the grey of me.

And I knew those eyes would never be mine.

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"This is it?" Leila said with a wrinkled nose, her hands were clasped behind her back as she slowly approached the animal.

Myron stared at the blue ribbon sitting in a bow on the back of her head, eclipsing her dark brown tresses like an enormous butterfly. His eyes traveled down to her feet and the way her calves flexed as she walked on her toes around the creature.

"I wasn't lying, was I?"

"Dunno," Leila replied, and she hopped on a crate, her lanky, boyish form backlit by golden rays. It shone through her hair, making it more like...

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Lola, Lola. What have you done?

It was a day like any other, well if you account the slow, lumbering and brain hungry, zombies. Their presence no longer shocking just another danger living the city. I suppose. Well anyway Me and My Sister Lola have been hopping form building to building, only during the days mind you. We are looking for supplies food and water mainly. Lola, misses her friends and Mom. she really miss Mom.

Anyway like I said we were looting and stuff, when this dog comes out of a door I happened to open I knew where...

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"Of all the songs ever written, his favourite is Lola? You can't be serious."

"Dead serious."

"Wow. That's a guy who really needs a friend."

"I know. So will you do it?"

"Why on earth would I?"

"Out of the goodness of your heart?"

"There's goodness in my heart?"

"You might be surprised what you'd find if you went looking."

"Calling all spelunkers! Is there anyone out there daring enough to embark on the most dangerous of quests, the search for goodness in the depths of my heart? Finders keepers, down there!"

"Very funny. So you're not...

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Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty.

Sure, there were lots of positive adjectives she would have included in a description of herself. Clever, athletic, determined, sensitive, ambitious, caring, discerning, admirable.

Ok, maybe "admirable" was stretching things a bit.

But pretty? That was a word for the popular girl in high school, with the childish voice and the two-expression face: desirous and desirable; I want THAT and you want ME!

Pretty was the compliment of an unimaginative father, the manipulative tool of a mother living vicariously.

It wasn't something she had ever felt the need to apply to...

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She was the most delicate girl in town. Small, pixieish, with willowy limbs and and small features placed evenly on her round face. She dressed delicately, too, with long, floaty skirts and light fabrics such as cotton and lace. She seemed to float when she walked, flicking her skirts and jumping lightly, like a fawn. But her eyes were, well, disturbing. electric green, with long, slit, vertical pupils, like a cat's. I wondered who she was, and where she came from. But one day, she just, dissapeared. Not a trace of her was found. one day, they found her at...

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(To read Part 3, follow this link: http://sixminutestory.com/stories/somewhere-better-part-3.)

"Choose as you please," said Someone Good. "Surrender to the breeze, or fight for control. Which do you value: predictability, or potential. The known and the now, or the unknown, the good?"

As the air whipped in gusts around her, gripping her, twisting her, she struggled. Within herself, she wrestled for a choice. Would she allow herself to be carried up by these winds of change?

Somehow she knew that this was a defining moment. It was here, in the borderlands of Somewhere Better, that she could either fight her way back...

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(To read Part 2, follow this link: http://sixminutestory.com/stories/somewhere-better-part-2.)


The voice was gigantic, though how such powerful sound came out of such a small creature was beyond her.

The furry animal was sitting back on its haunches in the tall emerald grass, looking up at her as if anticipating something.

She shifted uneasily. "You said you call yourself Someone Good?" she said. "What kind of a name is that?"

"We name ourselves by our attributes," said the creature, in its gigantic voice, which seemed to be full of every meaningful thing. "We are good," it continued. And from behind her,...

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(Author's Note: To read Part 1, follow this link: http://sixminutestory.com/stories/somewhere-better.)


All around her was greenery, stretching beyond the horizons, undulating and flowing. If she had ever been outside the confines of the busy city, she might have compared it to endless fields of gently waving, emerald green wheat.

The city. Where had the city gone?! She had been there just a moment ago... Hadn't she?

She liked the city. At least, she thought she did. It was familiar. It was comfortable. It was scary at times, and intimidating, but it was a fear she *knew*, one she had always...

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