Short Story : ' Back Of My Closet '

We all have problems that we would rather not face. Things we wish we could forget, things we wish we could erase from our lives. Hidden is about two girls who are forced to face a problem they both share, but ended up different for each of them.

I nodded my head deftly as he held me in his arms. He only needed one as I sat there in his grip. I almost felt like a child being held like that, sitting on his arm.

It was a typical day for my partner and I; We just had gotten breakfast at our favorite place, as we were driving back to the precinct a dispatch order was released. “We have a murder in the back of an alley.”

He was tired. So very tired. His hands shook as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Eyes, once vibrant in their innocence, had dulled to a flat brown.

I was lounged on the couch, cuddled up with Anthony and watching a movie, well, he was watching a movie. I was taking a nap. Ian played in the kitchen when a scream echoed throughout the house, "HOLY SHIT!"

Moshi known as Mo~she was playing around with her baby dolls when she saw a flashing light coming out of her closet. She didn’t know what to do so she ventured on in the closet, being her curious six year old self. Moshi stared into the abyss of the hole where the lights were coming from.

As soon as the now recovered Sergeant had made it into the SUV, Randal scrambled in after her. Somebody screamed to 'fucking drive', Randal slammed the door shut behind him, and as he clambered in he partially shielded the Sergeant with his body. This meant he was effectively straddling her near the waist and putting his own body and plate carrier between her and potential shrapnel and gunfire. The man driving the SUV slammed on the gas as soon as the truck had cleared the barn door and tires squealed against the concrete of the barn floor just before catching. Randal spared her a glance and yelled for her to cover her ears - if she could even hear it over all the gunfire and chaos. Because in that next moment he used one hand to partly shield

Is there a character that you like so much that you wanted to be him or her for a day? Accept the reality, human doesn’t have that kind of power to exchange souls or bodies, but there is an approach to make the dream come true. The solution is by cosplaying. Cosplay in other words, are costume role-plays, where people called cosplayers wear costumes and fashion accessories to look or represent a character.

Organization is a wonderful thing to keep up on. I believe everyone should have at least some sort or organization in their life. Most people do not and that is why so many people in the world are always so stressed out. If you follow steps to make things neater, you can organize your life.

Daniel raised his eyebrows in surprise and shrugged off the moment that just passed. Lia finished her last bite of food before standing up she looked at Daniel then his parents before muttering a goodbye rushing for the door. Daniel sat in his seat with a lost look in his eyes and looked around at the empty table.

There was, at one time, a ghost of a beautiful lady who would visit us every night while we were in the trenches. She was a sight to behold, with ink black hair and a face like an angel. Maybe she was an angel, I don’t know. But she was there. If it was hot, cold, raining, didn’t matter. She would say nothin’ and she would do nothin’. But the way she stood there reminded us all that there was someone out there. She reminded us that we all had someone worth fighting for. A wife, a daughter, a mother. Someone to go home to. Someone who loved us.

Walk in closet is a rather late invention. It started appearing in modern homes in early 20th century. Before that period a walk in wardrobe as we know it today, was not commonly seen even in the most elaborately designed houses. A regally decorated dressing room was however a common feature of many 19th century homes.

My story begins when I was in 3rd grade and I was home alone. And I was 7 or 8 years old I’m the youngest of my siblings. During my third grade year I was a troublemaker only at home, at school I was what you call one of the goody goods. Me and my brother Colin, who is 2 years older than but acts like a kindergartner, well that my opinion would get in trouble all the time at home.

He looked up at the house as he slammed the car door. He pressed the lock button on the fob causing the car to beep. “Call my mansion home,” he said to himself as he checked himself in the car window reflection. Straightening his tie, he gave himself a nod of approval and headed to the long stone walkway leading to the house. The heels of his dress shoes clicked on the limestone as he approached. He admired the massive white pillars lining the front of the estate.

The infinitely expanding universe flashed by in an instant. Stars and galaxies, infinite chaos and yet, infinite peace at the same time; copious stars, a myriad of paintings, smaller than a pinpoint, but yet so overwhelming. I could tell what he thought of it. He could only describe it as beautiful. Before they die, I give them one last gift: a view of everything the person did not perceive, an image of pure tranquility. But the peace did not last long, as the pain seeped into his nervous system, like acid being poured down his spine, a sharp knife into his chest and stomach. He drifted closer to me, a balloon in the wind with no control over its path. I sent him the thoughts of his life; the images that his death followed were envisioned.