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Graduation: A Walk to RememberA platform scaling to new heights.
Waiting an eternity for a beginning.
Her nervous hands grasped white parchment.
My future begins in this moment.
Time is frozen at high speed.
Fin revamped: Once Upon a Time.
Then what is there?Happy. There is happy.
But what is happy?
Happy is all the simple acts we take for granted. Happy is sharing space without the worry or need to fill it with some nonsense noise or action. It's handing over the TV remote because, ugh, they're gonna whine until you do anyway. But you really don't mind because sometimes it's nice not have to think about the TV.
It's going to bed at different times, but no matter what, whoever goes in last checks on the other; just to make sure they're still breathing. It's goofing around and throwing snow balls inside because who in their right mind would go out in the cold to do that.
It's stealing each others' hair products because you're too lazy to run to the store after work, but it's also changing the sheets on the bed and doing the laundry (even though you hate it) because they pulled an all nighter at work and fresh sheets make everyone feel better.
It's a snuggle on the couch after a horrible date and knowing that n
Last WordThe little girl couldn't have been more than six years old when she ran through the old dusty house. It was no longer a home. It's owner deemed incompetent and placed with a relative. Following her mother, the little girl looked around at all the boxes and furniture. Where was it all going to go? Surely there wasn't enough room to move it all to their home. "Momma, where will all of Auntie's things go now?"
A soft smile and caressing hand reached out to stroke the little girl's round face. "I told you. We'll take some and grandma will take some, Anna."
"All of it?"
"No." The sadness was evident in her voice, but the child didn't understand the strain it held. For this wasn't just Auntie's belongings that needed to be packed, but Momma's memories. Memories of summers spent running through the house while being chased by Unca. Memories of card games at the dining table. Horrible stories her brother made u
The Library - Take TwoGreyson's heavy boots echoed as he circled around the room. Aside from his footfalls, the rest of the extravagant home was silent. “This has always been my favorite room.” Sticking out his index finger, he hooked the bindings so carefully placed on the ancient bookcases. “Even as a young child, I loved this room. Uncle Damascus would tell Lydia and I the most adventurous stories in here. Father assured us it wasn't his real name, but still, the only one we ever had for him.”
His grey-blue eyes flickered around the room and took in all the décor. The house had been in the family for centuries. All of the rooms had been redone at some point. Either by a new Mistress that wanted her own tastes instead of the mother before her, or greedy young Masters that needed to show off their money and power. All the rooms but the library. Somehow it always remained safe from the demolition teams. Lu
The Story of Alice - 2Letting the conversation drop, Alice sat in the back of the car quietly watching her parents. It was obvious they were talking about Paddy's death, but they were trying to hide it behind a hypothetical situation. Alice wanted to shout at them. She wanted to tell them to shut up and just stop talking. But she couldn't. It would hurt her father's feelings and that was something she avoided at all costs. Instead, she stared out the window and watched the passing trees, cars and anything else that took her mind away from thoughts of Paddy.
She fought back the tears that had been threatening to fall down her cheeks since she woke at the hospital. There was no way she was going to break down in front of her mother. It just wasn't an option. Alice focused harder on the world outside the window. The world that was torn to shreds and ruined in a single phone call.
“We're almost there.” The voice didn't pu
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More