What would happen if I just left in the middle of the night?
He wouldn't remember you when he got older.
A price would need to be paid, but I don't know about him completely forgetting.
Personally, I think you should go.

He loped into the night, thinking and rubbing his too soft hands face, never quite sure if he had been slapped in the face.

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Kent had hardly taken a full breath when he burst out again into another rant. Another renegade of answers that had no match for questions. He was surely speaking Greek. Kelsey, However was speaking Russian. And there was a glass Wall between them. Kelsey knew no Greek, Kent knew no Russian. They separate to attempt to salvage the relationship that always had been. Neither was sure when the Communication Break down had occurred. Both knew it was absurd. That's When Kelsey Hired a translator, and put an end to the bloodshed.

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Some rotten git had destroyed the nest. Only one chick survived. I cradled him all the way home. Mum made up a 'nest' in a shoebox and I went out digging for worms.
'He don't want worms just yet' my mum said and she brought a bowl of bread soaked in warm milk.
That's how Sammy the Song Trush came to stay.
As he grew older he began to hop around the house. My brother would lay on the floor with a Pot Noodle and Sammy would perch on the rim and pick out the noodles. We all found this...

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Sweet agony awaits me everytime I wake. Now don't get me wrong, I'm in no way a life hating specimen, you can call me an over analyzer.While the rich eat caviar and the poor beg for money, I try to see the use of my math homework. Trying to understand the use of knowing how to use algebra, speak French, or know how a global economy is set up. Somewhere deep inside I know that this school system is for my own good, and mother always used to tell me that to be someone I'd have to have a diploma....

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I shall wait.
I shall wait for the timer to go through it's course.
Wait for the little seconds to pass me by.
Produce nothing of content.
Produce nothing of consequence.
Just words strung together in a jumbled sort of way.
Words become random assortments of letters.
Meaning is lost in the rush to get them out.
It's killing me.
Realizing that six minutes is such a vast distance of time.
And yet my brain cannot seem to function adequately.
I like to sip my stories like brandy.
I like to savor my poems, swish their contents around my mouth...

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"Travel light."
"But take everything with you."
A murmur of confusion ran across the gathered crowd.
"That will only slow us down!" The young man who had been such a cool head through all of their troubles spoke firmly, with an authority far greater than his age would normally have allowed.
"We can't allow them to find anything which they could use against us." The town drunk retaliated. Or at least, that was all he had been, until the shadow began to cross the land and the war drums had begun to beat once more, since then, he had been...

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The birds had not come in last night and now they would be lost.

Common birds! She spat twirling a small gold spoon in her coffee clattering nervously on the edge of the doll like cup.

So long years of sorrow, so long back breaking toil. The training, the binding of tiny claws the midnight dropper feedings. All of it for nothing. Now they would peck at trash and pretend to get excited when they heard the fog horns of a garbage trawl.

Why do I bother? She picked a tiny scar at the corner of her mouth and drank...

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Morlane hung his head. At times like these, his emotions were torments of conflict. He was grateful, yes; but he was ashamed. He was melancholy, true; but he was jubilant. Every month for the last 4 years he had made the trek; every month he had experienced these emotions again. He couldn't talk to anyone about these feelings. His father, raised on a quiet farm, couldn't know about such things. His fiancee, sophisticated city girl that she was, couldn't be expected to understand. Only his regiment could understand. And he was the only one left. Except for --

"GOD BLESS...

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She opened the cupboard on the landing and sighed.
What hat should she wear ? There was a choice of four: a bowler hat, a large straw summer hat, a rather fetching Philip Tracy ensemble or a velvet scrunch hat.
Neither were really suitable for her proposed unicycle antics, but "needs must where the devil drives" she muttered under her breath, and grabbed the velvet scrunch hat in her favourite colour, green. Cramming it on her head, she raced down the six flights of stairs to her front door, grabbed the unicycle from its cupboard and marched out defiantly, daring...

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"The year is 2070. The girl you see is your granddaughter." The computer hummed and buzzed as it began to clue me in on what - or who, I was watching. I could hardly believe it. It was almost surreal to see. I mean, I was 14 and could scarcely imagine knowing my granddaughter but, there she was. Kia Nicole. I could see my eyes and my smile on her face and quite abit of my father's features were evident in her as well. She was sitting at a the dining room table that my parents had bought and she...

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