Creative Writing: Skywalker's Home

One always asks, why does one kill? For love, for money, for power…and sometimes because the devil was hissing in your ear, kissing your neck, willing you on. He’d spoke of wrong doings, and trespasses, ones that could not be forgiven. So Cain had taken destiny into his hands, millenia ago he was going to find himself wrapped up in the embrace of hell, of Satan, and the Pit.

“I’m Randy Kim, I was a police officer before everything went to shit. Most of these guys are prior law enforcement. Look we’re only trying to protect our own.”

The wealthy sat in the comfort of their mansions while he was out on the field, working long and hard hours. He did not think it was fair that no matter how hard he tried, he will only remain a poor sharecropper while they will still remain the rich landowners. His resentment gave way to some vengeful tendencies, like burning barns. He purposely targets the barn because it plays a vital part in keeping the farm going. Owners benefited the most from the livestock and if they did not have any animals on their farm, then the farm would not be able to function properly and they would lose a significant amount of money. Even though he held a grudge toward his bosses, he did not want to kill them, instead, he focused on destroying something he viewed as the source of their happiness and comfort; their wealth. In a Marxist view, his carefully planned actions illustrate how his low social status affects his personality and leads him into doing harmful

Laurel nodded her head when she heard that Zinda would be willing to aid her in her efforts of keeping the city running smoothly. “With that attitude I think Ryder will love you.” She stated with a small laugh, her head shook from side to side. “Even before the outbreak I always had a hard time sleeping.” She reached her right hand up and placed it against the back of her neck, rubbing at it. “So it really doesn’t bother me all that much.” She nodded her head. She knew what Zinda said was true, that she should try and sleep more but that seemed easier said than done. She really tried to sleep at night sleep just seemed to elude her, it was never there when she really need it. Like the night they got back from the Farmhouse, all she wanted to do was fall asleep and forget the whole events that had taken place there. Sadly that didn’t happen, she stayed up all night thinking about how she could have done thing differently, that she should have stayed with Kate.

If he had been human, everything would have been easier. Hal's life would have been so much better; he wouldn't have been forced to fight, or be controlled by the code in his head. He would have grown into a different, maybe better person. But then, they would still be stuck in the compound, still there when the bots had malfunctioned, and they may have not even escaped. Perhaps they would have died an untimely death and not have escaped into the wastes and would be left to rot in the desecrated compound, forgotten, and the only sign they were there were their desecrated skeletons, and even those would be ground away by the sands of time until they eventually became nothing. It was a pity that they would meet that fate regardless; Dirk would

You used to think the philosophy 'you only live one' is the most ridiculous excuse for justifying everything you've ever heard of - if you're meant to be reckless and live as fast as you can, 'there's a million and one ways to die' sounds much nicer. Explore them. Investigate them. Enjoy them. Cherish everyone of them, especially that split second between when you lean back in your chair and it hangs midway in air so close the the ground that the only thing you can think of is 'that is it.'

"Dom would be so proud of you, Lottie," Frankie said as Charlie took her seat, leaning against the platinum blonde male, her head on his shoulder lightly. Energy, adrenaline, emotion all swam through her veins like liquid fire, leaving her shaken. Add in thinking she'd seen Eric - a thought confirmed mere moments later - and she was left shaken. Would he ask her at work? Would he ask after her brother and learn why she was so committed to their cause? Would he ask and care? Would he care at all. Charlie nodded and looked up at Frankie, smiling softly, "Maybe, but it's hard to be proud when you're not here."

It was dark when I arrived at the village. People were going about their nightly chores before they retired for the night. They quickly escorted me to the wigwam of a woman who was in labour.

“The sea and the sky are the same,” uncle always said. At the time he had laughed, but looking out that morning; the cold sea mist clinging to my clothes, I knew he was right.

Luke doesn’t remember when they had stopped walking, doesn’t know how long they’ve been at a standstill. However, he no longer cares for he’s currently struggling to the ignore the trumpets sounding off in his brain. It’s a repeating chant, reiterating courage he’s not had much luck in gathering times prior. There is an active insurrection against his nature, rebelling the desire to circumvent immediately. To shrink away isn’t the best option here. Bravery is what Luke needs; what he demands of himself just seconds after Han described him as 'cute'. Because he is not cute. He’s … something other than that. If anyone is cute, it’s Han. Thus, Luke balances on his tippy toes, teeters, since he’s five foot six seven and Han's height

Liam woke up late one night to his phone ringing. Groaning he turned on the lamp and grabbed his phone from the night stand. Who was calling him at this ungodly hour? Liam shielded his eyes from the light. After a couple of seconds Liam’s eyes finally adjusted to the brightness.

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

Han’s self-control threatens to comprise, and it's quite a feasible reality if he doesn’t find a solution to his problem as soon as possible. She looks the most promising, despite her size. “A bounty hunter?” While Han does feign his surprise, it comes off amiable enough to not pin it as an insult. “Who woulda thought? Figured a pretty face like yours to be a — … “ Han pauses, lips pursing as he looks off to visually communicate with arbitrary gesticulations, just to amuse. Except, he’s wasting precious time and he knows it. Aside from that, his thoughts were a mess at the moment. If Han couldn't sort through it alone on his way here, he doubts he could organize his thoughts in front of this woman. Therefore, Han turns back to her, seemingly resolved. Accordingly, Han’s wonted casualness glaciated, fractured, and burst

It was colder then usual out, so John and Richard had moved outside into whatever was left of sunlight these days. They had a picturesque view of the White House from what must have been the top of an office building. Most of the back corner of their building had crumbled revealing the a portion of the top story. John and Richard had stumbled upon “the fence” as they called it, years ago and since then turned it into somewhat of a fortress. They were both children when they escaped from the grasp of the Republic and the Democracy. John escaped at the age of 11 form the Republic, a couple months before Richard, then 9, managed to escape the Democracy. They soon became friends when they bumped into each other on the outskirts of D.C. That

“I don’t understand! Why won’t you come back with me? Can’t you see that the Resistance needs you?”