Constance pushed the curtain aside and looked out. The children walked down the paved stoney road past the signs pointing toward the temple. The stones were polished smooth, reflecting the light of oil lamps carried and the moonlight, creating an almost perfect mirror. It was the only visible thing in the mist and dark. She released the curtain, took a deep breath, and turned. Forcing a smile onto her face, she chirped, "Alright, Sandra, it's time for you to go!"
The girl jumped up from where she sat on the wooden stool, picking up the giant package next to her. "Hooray!" she grinned and ran to the door. Constance gasped, rushing to stop her
The Mountain Lion's Roar
The clans of the Leone were allotted the Slanted Mountains, strangely dubbed as such because of the large forests with even larger trees that stuck out at such strange angles that the mountains appeared slanted. These large forests were vast, and thus, mostly quiet, except for the slightest rustle of a bird landing on a branch.
Another branch shook ever so slightly. A leaf dropped to the ground.
An innocent straw dummy stood at the mouth of a clearing, grinning.
Another leaf left the home of its branch.
The grin of the dummy sagged in a split second, and in an explosion of yellow its straw stuffing spilled out, a
Whenever she unlocks the door to be greeted by an empty house, she'll sigh heavily.
She walks in, throws her overweight bag on the floor, picks up her white canvas shoes (which are rather dirty to the point that I'm quite sure that calling them 'white' would border on being a lie) and chucks them with a dull thud into the shoe closet. She would then close the door with enough force to release her anger but not loud enough to cause the neighbours to call the police.
I was ecstatic.
She glanced at me, and I felt like I was bursting with joy. "It's...another day alone at home again, Tryd."
"So it would seem," I replied, trying to hide my emo
Let it rain when I die
So that the tears wont show.
Sing my favorite songs
Even if you don't know.
Dress me in black and red
With black ballet shoes,
A bowtie to make it right,
A dash of make up too.
My Dear ones, come wear white
Carry black umbrellas still.
Take me to my desired place
Bury me on a grassy hill.
Go on and say your goodbyes.
Wings carved on my coffin door
As you throw your precious flowers
I guess you'll see me no more.
Cats have Nine of It
Why does a cat have nine?
Is it an excuse for careless behaviour for eight?
I thought cats were well known to land upright alright no matter the height.
If cats need nine, humans need ninety.
After all, they are the ones with
suicidal tendencies and
Sudden
strange urges like to
terrorise destroy change revolutionise
Each Other.
For a human, it always seems to be so near,
Its cold breath tingles our necks,
Especially during these dangerous times and life's a wreck
If life's a joke, what comes after is just the punchline
There is only one
Joke
Naturally, there isn't anything after After.
Because there is
I do not believe in dreams, god, or anything that cannot be proven as a fact. It does not do any good for you to believe, even if people say believing brings you faith and faith brings you strength. Believing is painful, as the more trust you have, the greater the hurt when you are betrayed. I only believe in myself.
Let me tell you a story, something which happened a long time ago. A story about a girl who used to have trust.
Angelina loved her family very much. She was sure that they loved her too. Despite the hardships, she lived a happy life. Her elder sister and two older brothers always looked out for her.
Eileen, a girl three ye
Jean seemed so much like him. He, who was all I had noticed, the man whom I had pledged to give my entire life to and the person, whom I had fallen in love with, over and over again, Paul Gomez. Not just in speaking, laughing, dancing, in all aspects, Jean reminded me of Paul.
It was logical, actually. Jean was Paul's son. He should resemble Paul somewhat. It was so excruciatingly painful, yet blissful to face him everyday. Jean made me feel young like the girl I once was. The innocent girl who only wanted to spend every second of her life with the man whom she had liked.
Without knowing it, I had fallen in love with Jean. I knew it was wro
I sat by the bar. I had worked a long night, and I wanted some time alone, away from my wife. Seriously, she could be a pain sometimes, always asking annoying questions. She only knew how to spend money, spend time with her friends and play with that beloved pooch of hers. Money had gone up in flames, never returned. She could spend a few thousand on tea, bags and who knows what, just in a couple of days. Sure, my business was doing well, but she need not spend money like water. Just five years ago, she had borrowed a hundred thousand from me, to give to her parents, she said.
A man, tall, about one point eight meters approached me. He was b