Well, when the baby pop his head out of his mother tummy, the baby already was in distress by this unknow new environment. What a shock to him. All he could said already was;
What do I am doing here!
"It feels so cold"
"Why do they take me out of my confortable warm place"
Yet, more and more the baby wanted to go back, the nurse only wash him and presented to the mother.
It felt suddenly very comfortable to be hold and the baby could feel the warmth again.
"What a joy again, he said to himself"
As...
I have a reputation.
The type of reputation that, when I walk into a room, people smirk or have that flash in their eyes that clearly says "I know what you did last night".
I have a reputation. I'm not that proud of this reputation, I mean, I wouldn't advise the me of the past to do it all over again. But I did do it. I did take that guy up to my room, and I did agree to go on a drive with that guy, and I did let that guy pick me up from work even though...
The Potentate surveryed his creamsicle tower coolly.
It hadn't been his idea to build it, it was the idea of his latest duchess. It had been a stupid idea when she had begged for it, but, after she had begun to withhold her affections, he had relented.
It wasn't, you understand, that her pouting had worked on him mind, more that he had been advised by his cabinet that it would not do anything for his public image for him to behead another duchess.
Not that he fancied beheading this one, oh no, burning at the stake felt much more...
Water. That's what I always think of when I think of her. Cannon Creek, Lake Erie, the Atlantic, the Pacific, nothing too specific.
Water can be anything you need, want, fear, love, hate. It can be clear, it can be murky. It can be warm, cold, swallow, deep. All these things are what water naturally is.
In my memory, our love is an ocean. Oh, yes. We were in love. I'm not so hopelessly romantic that I would ever be involved in unreciprocated love. No, no. We were in love, and it was the ocean.
She swam in the clear...
Swing. That was what we did every time we danced. We'd grab hands and swing each other around with all our might, laughing all the while. Everyone made sure to stay clear when we hit the floor. Once, he dropped me. It was unexpected, a fluke. We were swinging, like always, when, suddenly, he let go. All i felt beneath me was the cold hard floor. After that incident, we stopped swinging for a while. We'd get onto the dance floor, and everyone would run clear, but all we'd do was kinda sway and maybe do a little hip-hop. After...
Swing.
I would sneak out my window at night when both my parents were asleep. I'd walk the block and a half to the schoolyard, sit in the middle swing of the playground and sing to myself until he got there. Then he'd push me gently to and fro while we talked about the day, about tomorrow, and the tomorrows after that.
Swing.
We met that way for a year until his parents found out and installed alarms on all their windows and doors. They thought it was drugs, or teenage trouble he was after. But it was just to...
Swing.
Pump your legs, stretch your shoulders back, breathe the joyful rush of air, and swing.
Lift your front leg, lean back, transfer your weight towards the ball, and swing.
Grab a partner, shake your hips, move your feet, and swing.
Mind your temper. Think back to happier days: swing sets and baseball games and high school dances.
Be calm. Forgive. Consider the consequences. And if that fails...
Say your prayers, keep your dignity, savour that final sensation of the rope around your neck, and...
swing.
"I hate these."
He had remarked snidely to his friend.
"What? These paintings?"
"Yeah, who wants to get themselves painted anyhow?"
With a clear hint of jealousy, the boy bellowed about his contempt for the rich, slamming them at every chance he could, criticizing their ways of life, their philosophies and outright opposing any sort of politic that would allow for such a social class to exist.
"Well, I like them. They remind me of, you know, like the Victorian Era or something. It's not cause of their wealth that they had these made, it's a family thing, you know?...
The corridor was dark. He could hardly tell where he was going. All James could do now was grope around in the dark dusky cellar. Searching for it in this decrepit old place seemed to be a good idea at first before. James just wanted to find that locket and get out of this place. He can feel the cold stagnant air in the cellar creeping down the back of his ratty old shirt. Finally he could make out what seemed to be a door just in front of him. James reached his hand out into the surrounding darkness to...
Forget all you know about everything. Forget history in it's whole. What If you'd not only have the power to control time, but everything else ? Not in a B-movie ' timemachine ' kind of way, no,no. Meet Ivan Barbossa. The undeniable man. The man who never dies, and when he does, he just shows up again. He only dies when time and space stop existing. The end of all things mean his end as well. This man has been around since the beginning of time, seen the first cell evolve, or met the first man and woman to have...