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A woman girl at gate eighteen stops stands stock still to the spot rooted Half her face pale bleached white in the New Year dawn is turned toward me the rest concealed by light arriving only in...
Irina in a bathtub, dancing Rougue red lips, mascara smeared Midnight Angel, hellion laughing Hanging on to a bottle of beer Marlboro smoking in her hand Crimson nails, tattooed arms Little Red and...
Are you with me on this people. The man with the woman head.
I am the secret agent. You've read about in books. I've got the gadgets and the cars. And yes, I've got the looks. Turkish smokes with three gold bands. Suits from Savile Row. My missions are exotic.
My friend asked me what my favourite film is and all I could think of is the Legend of 1900.
Anton Chigurh: What's the most you ever lost on a coin toss. Gas Station Proprietor: Sir. Anton Chigurh: The most. You ever lost. On a coin toss. Gas Station Proprietor: I don't know. I couldn't say.
Chapter 2 - Alice Wednesday 1st April 2012 Ding. ... Ding. That noise... I woke up all foggy eyed and rolled over to switch off the ararm.
Ana was a girl of many beliefs. She believed in physics and mathematics; chemistry and biology; astrology and anatomy.
Jonah knew a threat when he saw one. And that threat was Lydia. There was something about her..but Jonah couldn't quite put his finger on it. Was it good or bad. Jonah didn't know.
The play was written by Welsh author Dylan Thomas in 1953 after the Second World War when the world witnessed shocking atrocities.
Chapter 1 Nina was sitting at home at her kitchen table. She was a single, very successful designer.She was a slim figured,brown eyed,dark blonde haired 30 year old.
Steve works at my school. No one is exactly sure what his precise role is. Caretaker. Probably. But it doesn't seem to say enough to describe Steve. Everyone loves Steve.
My sense of direction is very poor. Taking the right route is very rare. I appointed a chauffeur. With him on wheel, I travel all over.
The Cripple seemed old and worn off by time and bad fortune, his eyes,once filled with the eagerness for the mercy of a passer-by, were now blank in accordance with the inevitable.
This is a short story I wrote when I was 12. I had to describe someone in great detail so there are lots of adjectives. This is the first section, follow me and the next two will follow soon.
Its funny how the same faces pop up.. Everyday like a game,the same people roll through the doors.. I cant help but like some of societies outcasts..
So I posted this on my old account, and I just wanted it on my new one. It's a story I've been writing, that's semi autobiographical about my best friend who died of cancer a six months ago.
Her pale, dewy skin pressed against his toned, olive chest, that glistened in the sunlight that crept through the gaps in the trees.
I was walking down the back lane this morning. It was the first day of March, and there was still a light dusting of icing sugar frost on rooftops and cars.
Daphne was my Latin dance partner some days. We were predictably short on men in the class so she took the lead.