"I am slowly forgetting her here" Dante whispered to himself "I did this for her and I let myself be punished in her place." Dante rubs his cracked and dry hands on the cold stone floors trying to get his mind of the past. "I can't let myself be distracted with things in the past" Dante hissed "I need to remember I'm doing this for her." He starts to hear the guard's footsteps coming towards his cell again. I must not be
She was the most delicate girl in town. I liked to think of her as something made out of matchsticks, and knobby joints. Her voice, it never seemed to mature, even as she stretched into a teenager, and curves set in, she would still skitter on her toes, and wring her hands, and never make eye contact.
The crush I developed on her was no not so unusual, I think the whole town was in love with her in their own way, male, female, child, animal. Girls like that aren't meant to last if you think about it. Those quiet...
They were outnumbered and they knew it. J'nox lifted his six-shooter as he and his comrades prepared to defend the herd of hippogriffs with their very lives. The elf's upswept ears strained to hear every sound, every muttered word from the enemy as he shifted in his saddle, the pegasus beneath him pawing at the air. It was a beautiful day, he thought grimly. A good day to die, and take as many of the savage dwarves with him as he could.
Suddenly, those short people attacked, their twisted beards flapping in the wind as they hooted, hollered, and raised...
"I shot my butler, but I did not shoot the chauffeur" Mrs. Kensington said. "I don't know who could have done such a thing. That poor old man."
"The butler or the chauffeur," the detective asked.
Mrs. Kensington coughed with polite outrage.
"The chauffeur, of course," she said. "The butler can rot in a thousand hells as far as I'm concerned."
The detective flipped back a few pages in his notebook.
"You say the butler had been stealing from you," he asked, scratching his nose. "Did you have any proof?"
"Proof is in the pudding, as the maid would say."...
The shoes, though pink and shiny and paired with flat white tights, were not what you wanted. "They are not ballerina shoes," you protested, knowing very well the difference from the ballet flats and the pointe shoes and just regular human shoes.
"I want some like yours," you said.
Your mother no longer wore her ballet shoes; she had once been a prima ballerina, and there were photographs of her and postcards in sepia tones that captured her in a moment of what seemed like effortless grace. Arm raised, elbow bent at such an angle that she looked like the...
It's bad enough that I spent 500 bucks on the phone, but now I've waited for months on end to get the latest software upgrade. It's become an obsession of mine; I bang the refresh button on blogs, Twitter, Facebook. I scour the internet and Google news for any shred, a tiny iota of new insight into why a multi-billion dollar corporation can't seem to release a timely software upgrade. To make matters worse, amateur phone enthusiasts have been able to release more in their spare time than the actual "professionals" who, as far as I know, are being paid...
CRASH! the window had shattered after being shoot by a gun. All of us shuddered at the sound what were we going to do. Were we going to die today?
I heard a scream not knowing where it had come from we all blindly ran away. I couldn't here anything, my vision had blurred suddenly I heard a bang. My bestfriend who was like a brother to me was shot. I could feel the tears running like waterfalls down my face but i kept running knowing my life was on the line. Whoever killed my bestfriend was going to die...
I didn't want to do it, really. Jimbo was fooling around at the register and the clerk was eying us nervously. Next thing I know I'm holding the gun while Jimbo vaults the counter. He's crazed and scared and mad and his voice is shaking and the clerk is pissing himself and I know this is gonna end bad. I'm waving the gun like a toy and I get this weird feeling in my gut and my head starts to sing and I feel anger well up and my vision narrows and I'm yelling too now and the guy is...
He was one alone among many. He'd served with his brothers since 2001, since the day after that fateful horror descended on his country. The man, Mohammed Ahmed, was a devout Muslim, had been reared in the faith his entire life. He was also a second generation American, born and raised in the Great State of Georgia. Others had always looked at him differently, but he considered himself a Georgian. A Southerner. An American.
So, on September 12 Mohammed Ahmed became Pvt. Mohammed Ahmed, United States Army. He served willingly in Afghanistan, and hesitantly in Iraq. But, he served and...
It was the fall that surprised me most. I struggled through winter, reeling at the news that I was going to die. That I wasn’t going to see another Christmas after this one, that I had less than a year – maybe six months, although they couldn’t be sure.
And I tried my best, but that last Christmas was a dismal affair. I wanted it to be perfect, and in wanting that I asked for too much. No other Christmas had been perfect – but they had been wonderful. And I went and ruined my last one by organising, instructing,...