Whitechapel 1888. There was blood on my pillow again this morning when I awoke. My landlady has already been asking too many questions. It is time I moved to another residence.
I am looking forward to reading the newspapers today to gather the latest opinion on the terror in their midst. My good friends have been spreading rumours in many quarters so there have been a myriad of possible suspects, including those in very high places. The police are far too stupid to know where to look. I take especial delight in fooling Inspector Abberline, who should never have been...
Malcolm's coo became a cry. It had been hours since we had locked ourselves out of the house but it made no difference to him or his needs. The boy wanted his parents but was incapable of the simple act of walking over to the door and unlocking the deadbolt. The life Malcolm led was one of constant need, one of dependence.
The debilitating accident last year 'scrambled his circuits' as his mother put it but while the rest of the family wrestled with the fact that my son would never walk, eat, speak or function on his own, she...
I'm Theo. You might remember me. I had a guest role in several 80's sitcoms. Thigns jus didn't work out for me, I guess.
I got married at one point in my career, but that didn't work out either. I still keep in touch with my Mother-In-Law, though.
Last week, she invited me over to dinner. She doesn't seem to be doing so well herself. Turns out, she'd only invited me over in a vindictive mood about my divorce from her daughter. She came at me with a knife at one point.
Well, I wrestled the knife away from her...
It was the fall that surprised me the most. Not a quick dip and it's over-No, it was a slow, painful, frightening decline. Every little glance, every whisper, her giggle which carries across the room, would have me slipping deeper and deeper into this hopelessly unrequited attraction. My ordinarily suave nature just dissipates when she appears, and I turn into this bumbling old goon. It's awful. And it's still happening. As we speak, my heart flutters at the thought of her, and I feel my hold on things tanlgiloosen. I am falling. And there is no escape. I only hope...
"She's missing!" my sister cried, "Melissa is missing!"
We tore through the house, calling out for my niece, looking in her room and under her bed, but she was no where to be found. My sister was crying. She wasn't even looking any more, she was just kneeling on the floor and sobbing like a child. I called the police, and they came with sirens wailing and started to canvas the neighborhood.
How old was Melissa? Three
What was she wearing? Dora pajamas
What color was her hair? Blond.
Did she have any distignuishing marks? She sucked her thumb.
They...
She cradled the faun's head as it mewed pathetically, legs shaking as it attempted to get up.
"Shh," she cooed to it softly, running her hands down it's glossy coat.
"What is it?" A small voice spoke behind her, making her turn and open up her arms to the small girl stood nervously at the edge of the clearing.
"That's a baby deer." Another voice answered, the familiar form of her husband appearing behind the small child. "It's the first one I've seen for around forty years."
"Are they from before the war?" The small girl asked as she approached...
Portraits. Hanging in the gallery; all her own work. Self-portraits, and ones of famous people, she had finally found her passion.
Buyers, on-lookers, and art collectors alike all came to marvel at the paintings. The gallery was on Main Street in the City. Nashville had always been her home, and her dream to have her portraits on display for the Country Music Capital dwellers.
Her favorite portrait was one she had painted of her and her brother Damien. This one in particular, Leila was sitting on Damien's lap, looking up at him while their cat, Josephine was sitting at her...
The fat girl at Kentucky Fried Chicken touched my forehead with the palm of her hand. Her skin was oily and she had pimples. There was a green fungus growing on one armpit and I knew that when she was in junior high, she played the trombone. But I let her touch me anyway.
"You are not where you belong," she said. "You are not doing what you are meant to do."
"What am I meant to do?" I asked. "I know it's not to be a porn star because that would mean getting laid and that is something I...
she inhaled her controlling her breathes the interview is in 2 minutes and she already violated rule 1
don't be late. she couldn't really give an explanation as of to why she was. she couldn't let them know which would be
breaking rule two and she's already broken 4 rules exposing the rules
He set the plate before her. "EAT!" "YOU WILL EAT!" He shouted at her from behind. He had her put on a blue dress before dinner, like Alice from Alice in Wonderland.
"YOU WILL EAT DINNER LITTLE GIRL!" He knew she was crying right onto the table. Kaley had been handcuffed to the table for around 6 hours already, and she was panicked and truly terrified. Wilson kidnapped her off the street; he dressed her up and made her sit at his dinner table in his basement, decorated like kids' play room.
Wilson crouched down to the side of her...