Please! Stop!
He keeps walking away
and I
keep screaming.
No one seems to hear
the cries of a
broken girl.
I just want to be
whole again.
What do I need to do
to make them see
that I'm not worthless?
I don't have an answer
So I just keep screaming
until the screams turn to
tears.
sharp tears
tears that could kill.
They just might kill me.
Please.
Please. Stop.
It approached. She shuddered, turned, checked the Subway tunnel in both directions. There was no one there, but the feeling of future graves being trodden on refused, for a few steps, to dissipate.
The voice, like evil chalk on a spotless blackboard, came from behind her. "No, don't turn round. Not yet. You're safe."
The effect was fossilising. Blood cooled, crept, froze. A half remembered step faltered to a stand. Immobilised, she saw her assailant's breath of billow from over her bare shoulder.
"I know you. You don't scare easy. All those horror films. I've seen you. You never flinch...
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.
Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. Which was strangely ironic, because he was notoriously indecisive about everything. But this time, it was a clear case that he needed to get out, run away, and with haste.
However, haste was yet another thing he did relatively badly, too.
But maybe it was because it had become too entertaining to leave. Yes, he was in constant peril, but verily, the actions of the mortals around him were entertaining to the last. Nowhere else could he find people willing to do such stupid inane activities like...
He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Making a strategic withdrawal into a tunnel, luring in the rest of the elite squadron that pursued him to pick them off two or three at a time now that they were forced into tighter quarters. He had not heard the sound of the train from far off, and figured he had the time to keep running, slash a few soldiers, put some distance between them, and repeat.
The tunnel was deceptively longer than he presumed.
He ducked beneath the spray of incoming bullets before making a horizontal slash, Rihatsu cleaving through...
She ran off into the plants and tall grasses and let her body sway with the wind. She called it her meditation, the only break she had from the stresses of school and tests and parents and everything else that came with being a teenager.
The other two watched and smiled. The three of them were friends since the second grade. Nothing surprised them. They expected Andrea to do this. Jane and Nicole lit cigarettes and gossiped quietly while she moved back and forth, arms swaying, swing and shaking.
The wind picked up, the leaves fluttered and flapped. The gust...
She'd have preferred the electric chair to spending another night at her mother-in-law's cottage.
the mother in law doted and fussed over her son, as if he was a newborn. She made all the meals and cleaned everything and once she caught her wiping the mustard from his chin.
"Oh, I'll make the hotdogs, dear," she said. "Andrew likes them a special way. Wouldn't want you to waste all that time and not have them turn out. Why don't you go lay on the sand and get some sun. You could use it, you seem frightfully pale."
Emily forced a...
I held it at arm's length, thinking that it could never get to me that way.
But as I sit here alone in this room night after rain soaked day. I have come to realize,with the full clarity of a reformed sinner; it was not that I was protecting me from it. It was that I was protecting it from me.
And it never wanted protection in the first place.
Mitch sits on the porch steps. He see his daughter near the tire swing. She spins and spins and spins, her tight blonde curls flying around her as the late evening breeze weaves its fingers through her hair. He thinks of how much she looks like an angel. The force of her delightful twirling sends her tumbling back into the soft grass beneath her. Mitch looks to his wife resting her head on his shoulder as she sleeps and smiles. This is their life and it is good.
Poorly written!
So many misspellings!
Dis-jointed and non-sensical!
Your story did not make me cry or remember the way my mother's wrist smelled when she buttoned the top button of my new short sleeve plaid shirt from JC Penney's one spring day in 1978 when 5th grade was beginning to feel long in the tooth .
Also, run on sentences! More of them, please.