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Creative Writing : The Story Of The Novels

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Thick, dark grey, clouds mushroomed high in the atmosphere. A deluge was imminent: Marla was in the process of convincing Ismail why she needed to return to the lion’s den. “You’re putting yourself in unnecessary danger.” Ismail sat up, partially still blanketed, and tried to hold Marla before she rushed off the bed. “Has there ever been a time when danger was necessary?” Marla’s naked figure, partially blocking the outside light, appeared to glow. She stared out of the window and spoke gravely. “I can take care of myself.” “And just how much info do you think you can squeeze out of mister tightass.” “Ismail,” looking at him over her shoulder, “I may have to kill him.” S3 Barry Floyd stepped gingerly into Evan's office. Edna was not in …show more content…

Perhaps he may have splashed some sentiment about her that otherwise could not be said in the open. Her entrails quivered with curiosity. The door had to be locked and the security camera checked to visually ensure Evan had indeed left the station. The book was the smoothest leather she had ever felt. It was expensive judging from the way it's bound. A golden tassel bookmarked his last entry. She opened it abruptly and the spine crackled. His handwriting was simple but efficient. The letter he had written was not what she had expected: My dear Marla, I was up feeling a bit airy. Maybe it's because last night I may have pretended about a great many things. I pretended that we might have been a family; where we loved and cherished each other. Pretending that you loved me was the best part. I was the giant star in your nebula. Last night, I watched another sunset without you and it finally dawned on me that I was in the winter of your heart; a marigold fading with the autumn colors. Who will replace me? Who will reach for your lips while raging with fever, lay siege to your body, and become your master in a new well-being as you burn with illicit happiness? And because I love you, I've already submitted to him stealing your heart, foraging in that most Holy Place to singe all traces of my existence. Our love has ceased trending partly because of the twenty year chasm between us. There's no getting off time's conveyor belt to wait

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