"Come on," Ricardo yelled, growing more frustrated by the second. "That guy is still trailing us. Step on it!"
"I don't know, Ricardo," Mark sympathized, "he looks homeless, and he probably needs help."
"Step on it!" Ricardo demanded. Mark obeyed.
Sam was just an average guy, at least he had been - but one day, he lost his job, his wife, and his two daughters at the same time. And he was cast into the streets. Sam tried to live his life, but it got harder every day, and he was in a state of severe depression. Sam had attempted...
I spent days in the field, hoping to see something bloom. The desert surrounded me like the ocean that surrounds an island. The farm was my island, but the desert seemed to stretch on forever. I could feel my spirits drop, the hope I previously had, burnt into wispy embers. Dark, black roots were sprawled all across the field and it only made my stomach droop as much as my hope. I heard my stomach grumble, and the craving biting into the edges of my abdomen. Desperation was my last resort. I searched one more time, holding onto the remnants...
I dare you. I dare you. I dare you.
Her so-called friends had decided that it was time she took a stand against their teacher, apparently his 'bullying techniques' and 'sadistic behaviour' towards her was unacceptable. Not that she noticed, people could say what they cared - it was up to her whether or not she listened. That was of course her main problem concerning her; she just didn't care enough.
"I see we're having another quiet day today?" Said with so much contempt, spilling from a mouth that was hated by so many. She took a deep breath and...
"Hmm, urg, turn down the heat," he thought to himself as his attention turned to the pain in his armpits and ankles. "Who jumped me?" He thought, before he realized he'd soon pry open the almost necrotic lids of his gummed up eyeballs.
it occurred to him that a lot had already transpired that day, and he was just getting started. He looked out the window and hurried to the kitchen, then started heating up some coffee. Then he rustled up the morning paper and, fuzzy eyed, stared at it without much comprehension.
His companion hadn't gotten up yet, so...
I was hit in the face with a solid WHAP!! A SMACK!! A fist hitting my face with a CRACK!! My nose is broken. Oh, why did I have to go and insult the gang leader in prison. I didn't know! All I knew was that he was being an a-hole to me, so I called him just that. And now I'm tied to a cafeteria chair and all I hear is CRACK SMACK WHAP!! The security aren't doing anything. I guess they're afraid of them too. Oh I'm screwed. Here it comes again. WHAP!!
Private Morlane. Rooster. Let the regiment sleep. Gun. Trigger. Regiment sleeps.
As Thomas was smoking in an alleyway, he heard a scream. He walked out of the alleyway slowly, being observant of his surroundings. He then heard the scream again, he followed the sound of the scream until he heard it grow louder. Thomas took out his umbrella as a weapon, he looked into the alleyway and saw nothing. He looked behind him then looked back and entered the alleyway again. He looked around and all he could see was trash cans or some cardboard boxes. He looked straight ahead and saw a man being cornered by someone wearing all black....
It was a swarm. They were trying to get in. Surrounding the house. I was running frantically throughout the house, making sure every window and small crevice was locked and closed up. Leaving no gap, or space to get in. The house was air-tight. After a while, the buzzing stopped. The swarm died down, I was safe. I walk outside to double check and I hear one last buzz, closer than ever, as if it was in my ear. It was on my shoulder. I pick it up and see a little insect. It's wings were long, it had a...
Blood dripped down from my arms to my legs. I was bound to a pole in an empty room with nothing but a mirror to look at. They were there though, they were listening. I would confess but I didn't know what I did or why I'm here. I was screaming and thrashing trying to break free, but for what reason?
"I know your there listeners, but for what purpose? Are you using me or I am I already used? ANSWER ME!"
The speakers squeaked and a harsh, deep voice called to me.
"We are not using you, you are...
He wanted people to know he'd been there, so he left his shoes. There was nothing else he could leave. He trudged back up the hill towards camp. But the boots stayed. Years after, as groups of people ventured to the clear lake, they saw his shoes and left their own shoes. Without meaning to, he had started a tradition. Pairs of shoes after pairs of shoes were left by the lake, a little memento of the wearer there by the lake forever. Pairs of shoes after pairs of shoes after pairs of shoes.