It’s cold, but I don’t mind. The sun is taking it’s time exhaling its last breath before the day turns to night. It feels a lot windier up here on the roof next to the pipes than down there on the sidewalk that Mrs. Browning’s strolling on. She’s walking her ugly dog again. Wearing an expensive coat that puffs up like a marshmallow against the wind, but she doesn’t seem to feel a thing. I want a coat like that, but not all girly and golden, of course. Then again, I’m lucky I have any shirts without any more holes than they need.
I reach blindly behind me for a tiny pile of pebbles that I throw at birds sometimes. I wouldn’t actually hit them; I’m not a bad person. It’s relaxing, I think. Anyway, I pick up a pebble. I dangle my legs over …show more content…
Browning walks her dog this time in the evening every weekend. If I was quick, I could scramble up the ladders and grab the nearest, shiniest thing, and be back in my bedroom before she makes it around. Most of my brain says it’s the obvious choice, but the other, smaller parts are grabbing the prior parts by the hood of their jacket and saying it’s bad to steal. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Browning doesn’t even care about any of the stuff in her house, as she’s constantly buying more decor that she has to hold sideways to fit through the front door. I decide that, yes, I deserve that money more than she ever will, and if I’m worth my wits I’m willing to steal it.
I see Mrs. Browning walking three houses down, her shiny coat barely reflecting the light of the setting sun, and I decide it’s now or never. I stand up and slip slightly on a pebble, right myself, and briskly walk over to fire escape, and fly down the steps in groups of twos and threes, and occasionally almost knock my head onto the balconies above me. Perhaps a bit unnecessarily, I sprint on the sidewalk to Mrs. Browning’s apartment, with no pedestrians to question me, or slow me down, or give nasty looks when I brush past them. I walk into the wide alley where the fire escapes are and run up 4 flights of rusty stairs to Mrs. Browning’s balcony, above the other building in the vicinity. As usual, the door is open. I don’t spot it immediately, but there’s a small cat, the color of caramel, sleeping in the sun
“After defeating the Cyclops Polyphemus, my men grew exhausted. They grew thirsty from rowing under the beating hot sun. Sweat dripped down their heads and the ship’s deck grew moist from the mix of the salty, seawater and sweat. We stopped by on a nearby island.
Good. I touch the icon and drag it. Oh, it’s following my finger’s movement. Alright, let’s see… I drag it to the slot that indicates my right hand. Immediately, the bokutõ shows up on my hand with a quick white light.
“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.
The next morning (Y/N) slowly woke up, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. She blinked a couple of times before looking around the room. She went to go get up before doing a double take, her eyes widening. Sitting in random places in her room were all of the characters from The Outsiders, at least all of the characters from Darry's gang. She tried not to start freakout, looking at everyone. They were just like she had imagined them.
As the winds wisp through the willowy woods on one warm November nighttime, our worrisome subject eyes a wooden orifice far into the night. The crunch of leaves and pinestraw accompany his stroll through the midnight Mississippi forest. Spanish moss waves through the wind as Deacon, or as he is affectionately known by his friends as Deac, moves ever so closer to this new object. It is the source of his visit to this mundane backwood land that appears otherworldly to Deac. A cabin in the woods is where Deacon is making his trek to, to visit his girlfriend’s family. “They could’ve told me that I couldn’t drive to the cabin,” Deacon mumbled to himself as he battles the brisk, hard blast of the breeze in the barren woodland. Deacon reaches the door of the
“It most certainly is not,” retorted Phillie. “Freddie is that terrible man from those awful movies made years ago. The man who would attack children in their sleep.”
Taking a deep breath as she heard Calahan tell her that she looked beautiful she sighed. Looking at herself in the bedroom mirror she shook her head. Bailey was insecure about the way that she looked she had always been insecure. "No, I look gross." she sighed as she reached down and pulled the dress up and over her head. Throwing it on the floor she walked back over to the closet and pulled out another dress that was blue. Slipping into it she turned and watched as he put his clothes on. Watching as he dropped his shirt and scrambled to pick it up, shaking her head she tried not to laugh at him. "Baby, you don't have to impress anyone, besides maybe my daddy. I know, he likes to be tough on you." She winked at him before turning and straightening out the dress. "Okay, better?" she asked as she turned and watched him slip into his boots. Taking a seat on the bed next to him she smiled as she thought about what he had said before they had both fallen asleep. It was what Bailey had imagined since right after they hit the one year mark. "Cal, I've known since the moment you first kissed me that you were my
Louis sighs before hopping into the car and driving the opposite of where his house is. Deciding to push out the negative thoughts, Louis contemplates for a second before driving down Ybor city instead. There's a drag queen show today, the streets are full of laughter and drunk friends. Louis loves the vibe.
Izzi looked around her. Everywhere were colors. The trees with their dark bark and ever changing leaves. The blue of water flowing in a nearby river. The pinks, purples, and oranges of the flowers beneath her feet. She looked down at her feet. And she saw nothing. The wind was all she was. She didn't stand out in the world filled with beauty, all she did was blend in, drifting in the breeze. It made her want to cry. Izzi longed for color. She longed to belong in this world. She wanted it more than anything. She sat in the grass for hours and braided flowers into her colorless hair made of wind. They wouldn't stay in long but she didn't mind, as long as she could have the colors for a moment. Eventually the sun began to set and she headed home.
I checked my phone, 3:26 am. Phil had stopped crying, but he still leaned with his head against my chest and my arms around him "Phil?" I asked, "can you please tell me what's wrong? I want to help you, but I can't do anything if I don't know what's wrong," he'd been avoiding the question all night, but he seemed to have calmed down and I thought now might be a good time to bring in up. He looked up at me with his green, blue eyes still wet from the tears "I thought me and Dan had something special" he said with no emotion is in his voice "I always thought we were more than friends but I guess I was wrong," he wiped the tears from his face and stood up.
Flashes of memory rapidly traveled though Allie’s mind; those captivating eyes and that beautiful, alluring smile; suddenly, she was transported back to that past December day, standing there on Meeting Street. Swiftly, Thomas was upon her; his lips on hers were hot with need as he took her mouth with his. Quick intakes of breath and grunts of disapproval reached Allie’s ears from somewhere in the room. To kiss this way in public, was very inappropriate, but she did not care; she returned Thomas’s kiss with a fervor that matched his.
One stormy night there was this house in the middle of the of the woods and, three boys who were about to have the night of their life. James and his friends Cameron and Francisco they were hanging out in the living room when a crash of thunder shook the house and knocked out the power and, scared all of them. The only thing could see was darkness until they remember their phones and turned on their flashlight and use it for light.
First I will start off with research. Tristan and I decided to do a video with our voices voiced over it with pictures/videos playing. In order to do that we decided to get creative with it and do some “research” at different black places around LA. The first place that we visited was Leimert park. Leimert Park has become the center of African-American art, music, and culture in Los Angeles. Tristan also works at the California African American museum so she added some insight to the project from that. We also took the internet to learn some more about blacks in LA. I would say that most of our research came from internet but also
Across the room Mrs. Everdeen gives Madge a knowing look, and Madge looks away from her in annoyance. That woman had no idea what she was going on about. Madge suddenly understands Katniss’s disdain for her Mother.
Hawthorne Tische was on fire. Every nerve ending in his entire body was jangling, and urging him on to ravish Harper Collin's. The man's cock strained the fabric of his pants, and felt as if it was almost about to burst the seams; thicker, and throbbing with more urgency than he could ever recall. The sounds of her words, taunts, moans and whimpers, and the sight her body, skin sheened with perspiration, juices from her orgasm glistening on her thighs, neck and chest marked by his teeth, and ass and thighs welted and bruised from his spanks, was almost too much to bear. He wanted to take her, more than he could recall ever desiring any woman in his entire fourty-four years. Harper Collin's needed to cease with cease with the taunts so that she could be filled with his cock, but would she ever stop challenging him? Not a hope in hell, and that's the way he liked it.