A Brief Short Story: Vaius

Vishah tumbled through empty air and came crashing down on hard stone. The pain was nothing compared to what he had been through. He sat up, the light with the void had attacked was still there, burning across the room. He blinked repeatedly, trying to banish the blinding

The stone hollow echoed with dozens of small breaths and the clunky shuffling of chairs and tables. The lighting pulsated, from glowing orbs, the color of mandarins, positioned near walls throughout the room. Every child in the room was quiet in fear of disobeying and in pure content that today was another school day. Eilig sat in the back left of the room, at an ancient wooden desk with years worth of scratches and pen marks. Everyone else’s desks were identical: a scribbled-out heart an inch away from the corner, a deep, inch long scratch on the side. The silence was contagious until a woman entered the room, with hare-like features she clutched a clipboard, needle-like claws holding the soft wood in place.

“Oh crap.” I say with frustration, but as I look up I am shocked at what I see. There on the ground about 40 feet away is one thoroughly pissed off vampire struggling to pull the claw out of his chest. “Fuck me, it works.” I shout with an enthusiasm I know he does not share. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I almost feel bad for him.

"Time does that when you put pleasure before duty son." Merigal said. "Now I want you at the blacksmith's this instant and no

Tacitus tells us in the introduction to his Annales that his intent is to “relate a little about Augustus, Tiberius, et cetera” and to in fact do so “sine ira et studio” -- without bitterness or bias.1 Experience, however, tells us that this aim is rarely executed, and that we must be all the more suspicious when it is stated outright. Throughout the Annales, Tacitus rather gives the impression that his lack of bias is evidenced by his evenhanded application of bitterness to all his subjects. But is this really the case? While Tacitus tends to apply his sarcastic wit universally – to barbarian and Roman alike – this is not necessarily evidence of lack of bias. Taking the destruction of Mona and Boudicca's revolt (roughly 14.28-37) as a

"We're going to see him." Ciel muttered, with a surprised looking Lau a second later. "My lord, you don't mean..!"

long before the Europeans arrived the first nations people had been active traders and had well established trading patterns and alliances through north America.

Anticipation brought a fever, a hot sweat to his face, my neck, and my hands trembled. I saw her as she turned into the alley. Puddles, slime and the pungent smell of rotting garbage filled the narrow walkway. I moved quickly, was almost within reach of her but she turned. Her eyebrows arched; lips opened. Screams filled my ears. I plunged forward, the knife awkward in my hand. Terror, stared at me, strengthened my arm; my fury drove the knife that slashed.

While Valentine pounded on the closet door from the inside, Clawd felt a cold, sick feeling creep into his chest. He swallowed thickly and asked, “Flanagan, are you just gonna keep him here to torture him or-?”

Zepher looked away from the bloody mess he created, disgusted from it. The air around him reeked of metal. “How,” he whispered, “how could I have done this again?” The blue-eyed boy retracted his needle-sharp fangs while walking over to the limp body. As he reached for the woman’s petite wrist to check for a pulse, her chest rose, eyes fluttering. What am I supposed to do? She can’t see this! After a moment’s thought, Zepher had a plan.

He cared about what she thought, so when she dared him, he and I both knew he was in trouble. He tried to find his own way out, but then he stood and thought about it. He scratched his arm, reaching out slowly. His pale hand reached for the shining bronze door handle, slightly jiggling it, only to feel a cold breeze thrill up his spine as he did. Looking down at the floor, glass shards appearing almost out of nowhere by his side. The pieces were double sided; one stained a pale-peach color, the other pure white. His heart was racing faster- thumping in his ears; it was like a metronome stuck on the pace of three hundred. He felt the side of his face, grazing his cheek. It was gone; an empty void in his face. It was cracking like porcelain. “There’s nothing more tempting than a locked door, and you should know, Lincoln Thorndale.”

The siren caresses his dainty fingers through Carden's coarse hair for a loving moment before grabbing a handful of it and flinging him onto his ass without remorse. Car growled playfully, it riled him up in all the right places when he had to work to have his lover. He placed himself on all fours slowly crawling up while Jude began disrobing his own belt from its loops. His vampire moaned needingly under his breath, his tracks behind put on hold when the siren’s boot was pressed dominantly into his throat causing him to choke back on his own

When I got the Voalte I took sometime to put my thoughts together and took some-time to pray and head to the floor. When I introduced myself to the nurses they seem so concern for the patient and when they heard that it might be Leukemia they took a deep breath and when I asked if I can go in they immediately said yes. Before going to the room I took some breath and prayed as I sanitized my hand. The room looked deemed and only the TV seemed on, I knocked softly the door and nobody responded, I knocked with the door a bit cracked and mom seemed to get out of the patients bed. I introduced myself and mom allowed me to come in and as I washed my hands I introduced myself to Suzy. The room looked very empty with not personal belongings but did

As I read about different types of literary criticism, I felt compelled to apply the Marxist school of literary criticism to Poe’s short story “The Cask of Amontillado.” The Fortunato character appears to have a rising distinguished social status, a nobleness forming an equality, and or possibly surpassing the Montresor character. This changing social status acts as a symbol of the status the Montresor family name and crest used to have but it’s in decline. The success of the Fortunato creates the thousand injuries that aggravate the Montresor to plot and commit murder for revenge of the Fortunato’s success.

Hazing is defined as the practice of rituals, challenges, and other activities involving harassment, abuse, or humiliation used as a way of initiating a person into a group. There are many different social settings that hazing has been used. This includes gangs, sports teams, schools, fraternities, sororities, and even the military. It is very popular in these social groups because it is used as a way making newcomers earn their right to be part of the group. Sometimes it is used as a team building/bonding method and in other ways it used to display power over the newcomers. Usually hazing is done all in good fun with simple pranks and activities, but in many cases it can lead to more serious abuse. In more serious cases (usually with fraternities), hazing has lead to the victim being hospitalized or even killed. Fraternity hazing is undoubtedly where more of the serious hazing occurs because it is basically a part of the “tradition” of the fraternity. In a lot of cases, forced alcohol consumption and/or physical abuse is part of the hazing, which is why many victims are hospitalized or killed.