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he cried because no one cried for himI found Death crying in the alleyway underneath my apartment window. He crouched, huddled, shaking and whimpering out his little mouse of a cry that was muffled by the rumbling cacophony of city night life. He didn't make himself seen, and like the child he was, huddled down and hid his face with his mitten-covered hands.
Death made eye contact with me as I watched him from the fire escape. He stared with bright blue eyes perfectly framed with long eye lashes. The chill bit and reddened his nose and cheeks, and his tears left frozen paths of black ice against his face. I didn't mean to, it was an accident, he pleaded with me.
I watched him as he shamefully picked up his victim, a tiny little kitten that was half frozen and curled tightly into itself. He tried to stroke it back to life, begging and pressing the small animal into his plush winter coat.
I'm sorry, he lisped, wiping snot onto his sleeve as he cradled the corpse like a beloved baby doll. I followed his t
Titanic's Forgotten Sister-Chapter 26Chapter 26~
A CHILD'S CURIOSITY
**Being a youth, she eagerly questioned anything and everything she could comprehend, from why I 'looked funny' to 'why is the sea so BIG?'. I answered her in the best ways I knew how, which usually satisfied her. She faced Tempestuous with mile-long questions as well. Always patient, he would always procure some sort of answer too. To tell you of his patience is a subject within itself. As she got a little older, Britannic became very playful, and would eye up her father from afar, and then charge forward, as she was currently doing. Speeding up to him, she knocked her small bow against his side, and by chance, a shower of rust flakes broke off and landed on her and in the water. Her face changed from silly to serious in the quick way only a youth could show, and she stammered in a hushed tone "D, D, Did I hurt you, Daddy?!"
**Tempestuous replied "You think a little scratch like that would harm me? I have been through things that have hurt me far worse.
Titanic's Forgotten Sister-Chapter 25Chapter 25~
**As time wore on, it soon became apparent to all of the other ships that I was expecting. Some offered a slight word of congratulations. Others said nothing at all. Either way, it did not matter to me. I was more distraught with fears of how I would ever manage as a mother, of all things! That fear alone kept me sleepless many a night. How would I ever do a good job? Would I be able to be all I hoped to be? What was I supposed to do of 'fill-in-the-blank' occurred?!? All I could do was hope I wouldn't turn out to be failure!
**In every little moment possible, Tempestuous would not leave my side. He had a fiercely protective instinct, and would hardly let any other ship near me. Usually, showing his sharp teeth, paired with brown eyes blazing, sent most away in a trice, but if there was a stubborn case, he was not afraid to fight. He was a true soldier, and his bravery was a true show of love. I, in turn, found that just one more reason to love him back.
Lib. Ar.She was a revolutionary in her head, the way she wrapped herself in the flag and sang herself to sleep with freedom songs and chain gang chants. The way she wore her hair, unkept and messy and slanted slightly to the right due to the many times she fell asleep on her arm after reading Das Kommunistische Manifest until the early hours of the morning. I never questioned why she always ended on the same page, or why we had to search through dozens of used book stores in order to find an old hardcover copy of the book that was peeling with dry-rot and plagued with dog-eared corners.
She told me her grandfather was a political prisoner, and she inherited his rucksack and his circular glasses--the ones that he used to read his speech the day he was shot by the police and thrown in jail for treason.
"But the Man diluted my spirit, leaving me here having to fight for the rights my granddad sacrificed his life for. They never did free him," she always told the newest per
Dobry uczynek-Co pan robi?-zapytał chłopiec mężczyznę, który siedział na ławce. Łokcie oparł na kolanach, z ust sterczał mu prawie już do końca wypalony papieros.
-Wiążę węzeł-odparł i powrócił do wykonywanej czynności. Sznur był gruby na końcu zawiązany w szeroką pętlę, jegomość dla sprawdzenia pociągnął za koniec powrozu, pętla zacisnęła się natychmiast. Facet zadowolony z efektu, uśmiechnął się półgębkiem, wypluł niedopałek papierosa na trawnik, przykryty cienką warstwą śniegu, po czym natychmiast wyciągnął następnego, wsadził do spękanych ust. Zaczął obszukiwać kieszenie w poszukiwaniu zapalniczki bądź, zapałek. Wreszcie wysupłał pudełeczko z zapałkami, zgrabia
Not Drowning, But FlyingHidden deep within the jungle, far removed from the outside world, there lay a village. On the night of the Festival of Colours, the villagers would paint their bodies in all the raiments of the Earth and Sky and dance long into the night. They continued in this way until the Outsiders came. They were men in white cloth, who led cattle and cut down the trees so their animals might graze. Then there came hunters, who carried rifles and stalked wildlife for their flesh and hides.
A boy called Bharu lived in the village. His mother had come from the Outside and even though she had taught him their language, she had given up that world to join the village. However these Outsiders did not change, they offered the villagers weapons and medicines, but the boy was afraid. When his father called the villagers together, he told them they must accept these Outsiders and the gifts they brought. Bharu wept, for if his people joined the Outsiders, they would be themselves no more.
He ran to th
ContradictionMaybe I don’t understand the world,
Maybe I understand too much.
I could be so genius I look past,
I could be so clueless I never saw.
Either way, it doesn’t make sense.
Why love isn’t returned,
Why we go crazy,
Why choices suddenly change,
Why things go backwards.
People hate, get angry.
Then, someone leaves…
And they fall in love.
I don’t understand it.
Going to depths,
To bring someone back,
Who is already gone.
Why do we try?
You use selfless actions,
In selfish attempts.
It only contradicts yourself.
It’s the creator of these problems.
The scientist invited his coworker into the room to watch.
“This is the new drug we’ve been developing. When injected directly into your brain, it stimulates your speech center while you’re asleep, and you narrate all your thoughts. It’s taken a while, but we’re finally able to try it on human subjects.”
The scientist spoke into the microphone. “I’m going to turn down the lights and play soft music. I want you to try to sleep.”
The music started, and the man closed his eyes. The music faded in, it was very generic, but tolerable. The two scientists sat and waited for three hours.
“Ok, he’s in REM. I’m going to start pumping in the drug.”
The tube going up through the back of his neck went from clear to a dull orange. The EEG lit up.
“Any minute now… he’ll start talking.”
So the man spoke.
“Aaaaah… I… Miss… Pardon me… Ast… trucks… are big
Sir Bobby - The WarHave you ever seen another lying in a pool of blood? All a man's sacrifices and tears drowning in crimson finality? His memories, his dreams, every sin and every good deed all leading to a destiny of tragedy. If he could see himself, lying on what was once just a random road to be crossed, but ultimately proved to be the path to his final chapter. By divine decree, his full-stop was written and alone on these cobble stones, his book is closed. Surely he would weep for such a pointless loss. What soul would find the strength to not cry to any who could hear? If it were me, I would tear the hair from my head and with all the fury in my heart I would look to the Heavens and scream I AM ALIVE!
But then, I guess, the gods wouldn't hear me, the screaming of a man, the whisper of an ant; dead men tell no tales. Dead men. Dead men. That's all we are when the time expires and there is nothing we can do about it. Oh I could arrest a thief and I could hang the murderer by dawn, but when the Reape
thingswhen things go bad. its not fun. you feel out in the cold. like theres no-one to help you, rather like you're falling and cannot do anything, even worse, theres no-one to help you. no rope, no net to catch you. just helpless falling. its worse though, when you can see someone else falling away, away fron you, and you cannot help them. you cant put out a net. its either not possible or you just have to leave them too it. thats the worst. i hate leaving people to fall to their death. and all you can do is watch. just watch them fall, away, away.
Dreams of realityA pair of eyes;
Open and stare through the lights,
Into the darkness of doom.
And yet they smile,
Yet they smile.
A drop of tear;
Seeps through the garden of death;
Falls to the mortal soil.
Dreams and desires will blend again,
To render the roses alive.
I am floating through a vision.
Like ripples, floating through the pond of life.
Can reality be so real?
Let me drown again,
Into the silence of familiar noise.
As I wander through the lanes of reason and passion.
The flame of hope burns bright,
Drenched in the colors of freedom.
So let my dreams unravel my soul,
As darkness fades away;
And let mortality draw me closer to destiny.
As these pair of eyes,
Open to stare through the lights again.
Is this reality?
Can reality be so real?
Time passes by, as the eyes keep staring;
Staring at the distant lights;
Staring beyond the distant skies.
What do they see?
What do they long?
What do they desire?
Then the skies will break down;
White lightning striking the dreamy clouds.
Moments will tur
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