Mackinny: A Fictional Narrative

In Evil and Omnipotence, J.L. Mackie is debating the idea of the existence of both good and evil. He claims that a “wholly good, and all powerful being (omnipotent) could not also allow evil to exist in the world.” Mackie explains that one of the three things must not be completely true. Either, God is not all powerful, wholly good, or evil is only an illusion. He goes on to state that “good” always eliminates evil as far as it can, and that there are no limits to what an omnipotent being can do.

I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulder like a young cadet. Her gray sun strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, disconcerted face.” Nothing in those lines expresses the excitement and passion that a man whose truly attracted to a woman displays when they are interested and wants to date you. There was definitely no butterflies in his stomach for

And good grief, he's forgotten about her by taking interest with her book making her clench her hands into a ball of fists though it doesn't last long as a wave of reasoning pass by her mind—she just has to control her temper. She's good. She's always good. But then he spoke—stripping off anything good about him, dipping into a conclusion that he's just a pretty

From across the room, I felt his eyes upon me. Louis had us seated at a table near a window overlooking the slow flowing muddy river. Myles Laveau sat across the room, his dinner companion’s back was toward the room and to me- I was seething with a need to view her face. Why was I feeling this way, he was not mine… I had no right to be angry. I had Louis to my left and Boudreaux to my right, but wanted what was out of reach- at least for the moment. I knew I could have him again; Myles Laveau affected me the same way the flame-haired woman had, but unlike her, he made himself available. The simplest touch from him sent quivers through my pleasure place; just the touch of his eyes upon me had me quivering with desire for him, and

"Your life continues because you have been spared the mines. You are given food and shelter in exchange for laurels in the arena. Do not forget that. And do not raise your weapon to any of the men in jest. One day you could be fighting with him at your back, to find your only ally would see you dead just as readily as your opponent," Livia coldly reminded him. Her cheeks were a bit flushed from anger though it could easily be dismissed as the heat of the morning sun, or the honeyed wine she drank from in a polished

Arising from her perch, she held out her hand for her date to grace with his lips. There was a slight pause as she did, her brow quirking up expectantly as she held his gaze. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do, since there was something in his eyes that reminded her of his brother. However, in that same breadth, she found herself glancing away -- the memories of the masquerade too fresh, too soon. “Everett,” she greeted, a playful smile ghosting across her lips as she pointedly glanced at her outstretched hand. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I wish I could have found a more convenient time for us both -- but, in light of recent events, such an endeavor seems more or less

" I-I... I can't believe no one went this way!" Protested the quaking Clavein, pulling on his ears in pure annoyance. He ran right into Cole's escape route and made his way back to his room. It seem like the others just stayed near the library, for what reason!? " N-not everyone is a fighter... T-they could be h-hurt in there." A bit of dust flew into Clavein's clattering mouth, causing him to cough loudly. He let's go of his now sore ears, placing his face straight on the ground. Though he is speaking on the inside, Clavein's grumbling against the soot covered floor. " Worst part is I left everyone. I'm the only one who ran! T-that makes me a bigger wimp than Kiel...A BIGGER WIMP THAN KIEL DAMN IT!" Clavein reaches out from underneath the bed, crawling his way out. The heat of the hotel has gone down a few degrees so Clavein is supposing they have solved the problem. " Okay, I-I'm done with this shit... I'm gonna have to help..." Clavein shakes like a dog as he starts to make his way outside. " Maybe i-if I get the hose and the latter I can cool things down!"

I enjoyed the Craft talk with Kerry Howley on the role of the narrator as a character in the story. It was particularly interesting to focus on the narrator and to actually get the chance to develop the narrator as a character. She mentioned that often the narrator is the character that gets the least amount of attention from the author, which seems bizarre. The narrator is the character with which the entire narrative arc is seen. Intuitively you would think that this character would receive the most attention from the author. The characteristics of the narrator can influence every detail of the story.

I set the box back onto the desk and paced back and forth with the rhythm of the clock. I felt myself watching it, as I passed by. All I could hear was the ticking and all I could think about was the clock inside. Oh! What kind of devilish clock must have been inside? I could only imagine, its grotesque features, twisting and curling, its sharp edges, its dark aura, its stark callous face, always ticking. I couldn’t restrain myself any longer, I bound toward the box, tearing the bow and parchment away, with such furry. I flung the lid open, prepared to end this fiendish terror clock, ceasing it infernal racquet, but to my surprise, I was ridiculed by an empty box. “What is this?” I shouted with disbelief. “How is this possible?” I hurled the

I wanted to say I'm sorry for the Instagram pages and all of the rude stuff that I had said. I realize that it was stupid and ignorant and that I had gone too far as soon as I made the page. Yeah, we had our issues, but that was over until I had brought it up again and dragged you back into it and I'm sorry for that. I admit that the whole idea was out of anger and stupidity and I acted on it instead of just letting it go or even talking to you if it had really bothered me to the point of all of this. I honestly regret ever making the account and ruining your morning, I'm sorry. If this bothers you after, then if you feel comfortable, we can talk, no drama, no pages, no talking behind backs just talk. If not I am okay with that,

"Rosa, tell me," Bron purred as he gently traced the edge of his desk, "how many cases have you won?"

“No I’m brushing my teeth first.” Steve said and Bucky nodded and went back to the couch When Steve came out he frowned.

As Anita finished straightening out her dress, she felt him gently grab her arm. "Anita, do you have to go?" He asked, . "I'll be ready to go again in a few minutes." His breathing was heavy, the recent rigorous activity had him panting. Anita turned to look at him as he fell back on the bed,. The tiny room is almost pitch black, with an illumination of sunlight coming in through a tiny slit in the drab, 10-year-old curtains covering the single window in the room. With her back still turned to him she relied, "You know I can't stay, Ron." She sighed, feeling ashamed as she contemplated her destination once she left. "I know. You just taste so sweet." Ron was the easiest of Anita's "clients" to deal with. Generally, her other clients are quick to do what they want to do with her, then discard her as quickly as they could, as if that would help to ease their own guilty conscience

She breezed on through ‘Avalon’ and ‘Margie’, unfazed by Cecil as he tried his damnedest to get her to look at him. She would look right through him, a dull glaze settled over her green eyes. Her mother and father had the worst taste when it came to potential suitors — influential men with limited, insipid views. It had taken weeks to convince Cecil to let her sing and have a good night out, and he had the audacity to follow her to make sure her fun was limited.

After talking about general things, Johnny had remembered seeing a full moon right before he entered the pub for a second time that night. His southern, romantic, roots were taking hold of him when he asked Clarissa, “Hey darlin,’ would you like to take a stroll along the shoreline?” Clarissa looked him over, first looking into his eyes, then to his chest, then back up to his eyes again. “I would love to,” she responded, sort of stunned that he had taken an interest in her. Johnny got up first, then hurried to Clarissa’s chair to assist her out of it. He could see that she was wearing some pretty fierce high heels, so he wanted to make sure she didn’t stumble and embarrass herself, plus he was a gentleman through and through. His hand, he threw