I don't know, I just feel like I'm not really here at the moment. My mind is always somewhere else. I don't know where though, for you see I have actually lost my mind.
I feel like I'm split into four people. The solid me? She's just not present right now, I don't know where she is. Like I said, I lost her. I didn't mean to though...
I promise.
The saddest thing about losing me, is that nothing ever feels 'right' anymore. You know what I mean! That gut feeling you get when you make decisions or when you...
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....
Giving in wasn't an option. The first time Ted died he didn't really notice, being in a full on berserk. One of his incisors was embedded in the top of his shield. He only felt its loss after he lay beside the gnawed wood, head split by a centurion's short sword. Like most warrior souls, he didn't leave it there of course.
The second death was a spear. Ted bled out over a few days, his last fevered thought - blood poisoning - being one of confused pride he had all his own teeth 'this' time.
Ted's third demise was...
Sixteen years, almost to the day. He wasn't sure what was worse: how sad it was, or the fact that he knew how sad it was.
If only he could be one of those losers who didn't /know/ they were losers - a self-deluded idiot. Sure, they get laughed at by the world, but at least they're happy in and of themselves. They don't know that their dream is unreachable, that they're doomed to spending the rest of their life watching something they can't have.
Tom Hamil had been selling flowers for sixteen years at the same shop, in the...
Sitting at a desk with pen in hand. "It's us against the world." "Watch out, America."
The circle of faces tightens. The air seems heavy. No one breathes. This could be the start of a new world era. One wrong word and it could be the end of this one, and it is impossible to say which outcome is worse.
Moonlight drips in through the window. "Just start it," someone whispers. A hand reaches in and drops the precious sheets of paper on the desk. Only two. One chance to mess up, and that's only if the writing is small...
Goodnight sweetheart, well it's time to go...
Goodnight sweetheart, well it's time to go...
There's a contentment there. I find myself humming that, especially when everything has gone to hell and the day is a loss, and yet there is still the final evening bits to get through.
It's Sha-NA-NA in my head. A sense of contentment settles over me, a sense of belonging - to another time, a younger time - a time before pain. Well. A time before this particular kind of pain, or even the pain of what was coming a few years after that song stopped...
Marchiel stared into Francis's twisted visage. The black rose stood just behind the broken man and Marchiel wanted her. Francis put a hand on Marchiel's chest as the younger man started forward.
"No, brother. You will not have her. She has chosen me. ME!" Francis crowed in triumph. It was true. The Black Rose had chosen his twisted, fire-marked brother over Marchiel. Marchiel's heart ached at the rejection.
"You have placed a spell on her, Francis. I will break it with true love's kiss." Marchiel brushed his brother aside and continued up the steps towards his love. "Chereal," he whispered...
Mary Ruth had been alive for one hundred and two years, and she knew things she shouldn’t know. She knew where the fairy rings of mushrooms sprouted in the woods. She knew that twenty years ago, Mr. Wilkins the shopkeep had been operating a still on his land. She knew why Ms. Perry, the beautiful young war widow, had died at the bottom of a cliff, and why that handsome new Reverend Taylor had run off.
She also knew how to keep her mouth shut. She knew the value of silence, and the value of listening. And sometime in her...
"Faster Faster Faster Faster!!!!" he yelled from the front seat. "OK." the other guy punched it. "Too fast! Too Fast!" he yelled, white knuckling the armrest. The other guy hit the brake. He flew forward and met the windshield. "OOF!" "Don't crack my windshield." the other guy said from the driver's seat. A phone was dialled. "Ian broke his face!" At home... "Ian, let me see..." "No." "It'll only be a minute..." "No. No. NO!" "*gasp*" "What happened? ouch ouch ouch..." it's a little crooked."
The last I saw of the angel was at sunrise yesterday. I knew that one day I'd meet him again, the certainty was so strong that the actual date and time felt on the tip of my tongue. Morgan is the name he gave me. Morgan Freemantle. He appeared at my side just when I needed some one the most, when my sister collapsed on our long walk away from our home, the abuse, neglect.
As I was comforting her, smoothing her long blond hair away from her sweating face, telling her everything would be ok even though we were...