Banquo Alternate Ending

Veronica fell on the bed, closing her tired eyes. Well, what a day it was! She almost became a woman of easy virtue! But how could one blame her, if she had never experienced such pleasure! Maybe her ex-boyfriends did not understand her? In fact, besides caresses, Veronica had never had anything...

“Yeah, I noticed,” Arthur grumbled before taking a welcome sip of his drink. “Thanks for the coffee, though.”

‘I just…. I can’t….’ He took a deep breath. The three cats pushed against their legs, purring. Nido looked at his friend. ‘You are the most extraordinary girl I have ever met.’

She was concerned that the marriage and the new move were “taking away her father”. Blake, Skylar’s 12 year-old son, has become the middle child with the blending of the families. He has struggled in school and Veronica has belittled him with no

"..." He remained silent, afraid that even the slightest noise would send the animal into a rampage. Except, the animal did the exact opposite. It stretched, yawned, all while keeping its gaze on the man before him. A light noise - a purr, Ritsu realized - was heard in the silence. At first, Ritsu could have sworn it sounded like a growl, and that the animal was finally going to attack him. Instead, the vibrating purr that he sensed when the cat brushed against his leg was enough to still send him aback with surprise.

While waiting, he wandered into an empty train and fell asleep, only to be awaken with the train in motion, hurtling him far away from home. Ending more than 1,500 miles away in Kolkata - a bizarre, hysterical city, whose dialect he didn't talk - Saroo is lost in an apparently miserable circumstance. Narrowly avoiding being kidnapped, and with no paper trail or family name, he ended up in a local orphanage, from where he was eventually adopted by a couple in Australia, starting a new life on another continent. Paradoxically suggests that Saroo managed to go two decades without thinking much about his mother, only to become obsessed with finding her at just the moment the technology made that possible. When college friends suggested using the

I felt a little emotional at the moment, but I kept my promise, and I made breakfast. While the radio blasted Johnny Gill’s Rub You the Right Way, my mood improved. As I measured the oil, flour, and sugar, Trudy mixed the ingredients together and poured them into baking pans. We were going to have apple muffins, banana pancakes, and cinnamon buns. I made sure that I left enough batter for tomorrow morning's breakfast because I wanted to take Levi a few muffins. The kitchen smelled like a bakery, and I was sure that the boys would appear out of the basement

Jinwoo knew that he wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay for a long time. Every day was a struggle for him to keep living. It was as if he was dangling from a cliff, but only had one hand to hang with. He tried his best to overcome it naturally, he really did. But it was never enough. Somebody always went too far with a joke, and Jinwoo would feel a tiny bit of his self esteem crumbling away. It was always a joke, but Jinwoo was never able to take it as one.

Fleur shut her door. Her threadbare t-shirt and no bra wasn’t proper for meeting with a student, but a heavy jumper was. She glanced around her apartment. A few dirty dishes lay in her sink, and a few books were strewn across the table, but nothing that would embarrass her. Satisfied, Fleur opened the door.

I write to you with the deepest regret in my heart, your death pains me. However, the murder will not be in vain. I have secured the place as king and will take what is rightfully mine. The prophecy spoken by the witches can be altered. There is but one drawback, your son, Fleance, has run off. Fleance is now suspected of murder, indicating he can no longer become king. Thus fracturing the prophecy.

Crystal watched as Molly set the food down beside her bed. She stared at the everyday meal with a burst of disgust. Not by the food, but from the thought there was no news about leaving the small white room she lied in everyday.

Veronica had clawed her way out of the dark and despair of a math midterm- she deserved a few minutes of after-school peace with her dog and the pacific ocean, she thought. It’s unfathomable that some people don’t have access to the beach. Her mind conjured up one of her worst conscious nightmares- her, older, married with brats, living in some midwestern state where beaches were things of myth and corn was all but currency. She shook her head, her daydream interrupted by her cell ringing.

The sun was shining that morning, there was a cool breeze in the air. The day started off at Joanns parents house. The finishing touches of her make up were being applied, her niece, a culinary student at Johnson and Whales, was cooking a pot of soup in the kitchen. The lovely smell of poatao and asparagus filled the air.

“Coffee is ready Love,” offered Tank, seated at the kitchen table. “I supposed you might be able to use one this morning.”

His grandmother loved Veronica, Weevil knew that. Why she had so much sympathy for the rich, white kid who couldn't even clean up after himself, Weevil understood less.