Short Story

“I stopped watching, turned away from the alley.... was running down my wrist. I blinked, saw I was still biting down on my fist, hard enough to draw blood from the knuckles. I realized something else. I was weeping. From just around the corner, I could hear Assef's quick, rhythmic grunts.

Loraine looks up at me with dead eyes. Her hair, spiraling down around her pale, pasty face, makes her eyes appear sunken. “I can’t believe you!” I say, trying to control my breathing, “You killed everyone I love, and now you’ve gotten me sent to prison. Aren’t you satisfied

The world blurred before him, his eyes unable to focus due to the pain he was in. Sound rang through his ears as another slap struck his face, delivered to him by his torturer. Sheril was violent and overemotional, beating Lavi into submission and then soothing the wounds he’d caused. He’d proclaim his love for the redhead and then break another bone. Lavi had lost count of how many had been crushed, how many scars he’d gained. Even with his excellent memory, when he tried to think of the old panda or those he knew at the Order, Lavi kept drawing blanks. All he knew anymore was the man in front of him.

Blaize panted and took a shaky step back. Blood dripped onto the floor in thick, heavy splatters. The man in front of him was past the point of screaming, his voice hoarse and fractured, with tears and blood running in rivulets down his contorted face. But Blaize wasn’t done yet. The thick pools of blood spilled on his lap weren’t enough. There was a deep, cavernous hunger that rose in Blaize, that sent heat rushing through every vein in his body. He grabbed Lawrence’s chin /hard/, pulling him so that the pathetic man looked him in the eyes. Blaize chuckled. Those pretty eyes looked so /scared/, shaking and filled with tears.

"Miss Angelina, we must depart, I'm sure your chase has drawn some attention to your cause." Florence was one of the few girls that I could stand the company of - and on a rare occasion of desperation she'd help hold down men so I could do my duty. Once she'd gotten curious enough to pick up a knife herself - but then she saw the cold eyes of a merciless man, and she threw it back towards me. She was a sweet and innocent girl before she had met me, and I suppose in comparison to myself - she still

Anticipation brought a fever, a hot sweat to his face, my neck, and my hands trembled. I saw her as she turned into the alley. Puddles, slime and the pungent smell of rotting garbage filled the narrow walkway. I moved quickly, was almost within reach of her but she turned. Her eyebrows arched; lips opened. Screams filled my ears. I plunged forward, the knife awkward in my hand. Terror, stared at me, strengthened my arm; my fury drove the knife that slashed.

Isaac looked up from the blood on the ground and gripped the rough handle of his spear tighter. The rough stone spearpoint was nicked badly, and covered in dried blood. ‘This thing won’t last much longer.’ I thought. I got up from my crouch after rubbing some of the blood between two fingers. It was still wet, but it looked like it was starting to dry in the intense sunlight. I’m getting closer then.

His face looked so peaceful with the artificial moonlight casting shadows underneath his fluttering eyelashes. I hoped not to disturb him while I moved my hand towards the gun strapped at my hip. It felt cool and smooth against the heat of my palms. I took one more look at his chest falling as his breathing evened out and without hesitation I whipped out my weapon and pressed it against his skull. He jerked awake, his eyes wide and his pulse quick, and stared down the barrel of my gun. The voice that escaped the back of his throat was quivering with fear and desperation as he begged me for mercy. I stood unfazed, for I had heard it all before. After all, I was the one who had written all of his lines. When he finished his pleading, I recited

She looked outside the window and saw freedom. Piles of dirty laundry began to consume her. It had been three days since she showered. Waking her into reality, a threatening howl made her skin crawl. She grabbed the pillow beside her, covering her ears as her eyes winced so tightly that tears began to stream.

sometimes, if I see an especially sensitive-looking fighter, I’ll bet against him ‘cus I can’t stand the idea of missing the chance to spot a crier before he’s cried. I don’t know how much sense that makes, by when I explained my reasoning to Ed, he said that it was ten-times better to bet with your heart and lose, than to bet with your mind and win. Even though Ed pretends to be this grumpy, grisly guy, sometimes he can be cheesy like that.

“I fell,” Madge answers through gritted teeth, clutching her calf tightly as she blinks out tears from her eyes as quickly as she can. It was just her luck that she’d fall off the wall like a complete idiot right after being told to quit. Maybe the odds really weren’t in her favor.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered under his breath. Edward slowly dragged the body towards the door, extracted the keys from the corpse, and shoved it to the side. He systematically tried all the keys that belonged to the guard and let out a quiet sigh of relief when he heard a light snap from the lock. He was free after months of misery. He began to weep with joy but ceased almost immediately. Those tears would be saved for a different date. Now was the time for his revenge. He whispered to himself in the corridor,”Just wait you disgusting barbarians. I will receive my vengeance even if it kills me.”

Percival folded the letter carefully and placed it on Rion's bed. Calm. He needed to remain calm. But how was that possible when his heart felt as if it had been cut from his chest and stomped on? How could Fleur write such loving words to Rion and leave Percival with nothing more than Forgive me. I must go? And how long would she be gone? A week? Six months? Was she lying about returning? Had she written those words to delay Rion's pain? No, Percival knew Fleur better than that, or at least he thought he

With the crowd on the edge of its seat holding a collective breath and the princess’s lover’s confidence dwindling, he opened the heavy door his mind racing as it slowly creaked open. He wondered if she would kill him and convinced himself otherwise. They loved each other, but the sweet metallic scent that he could almost taste in the back of his throat made his mind drift to those who had run out of luck on their fateful day. These mere few seconds felt as long as a life time.

The smattering of rain on the roof overhead calms me, beating out an irregular rhythm like an anxious child unconsciously tapping his foot. The dim glow of my phone screen washes over me as I wait for the light to return, cut off by the flash flood inducing rain. I look around, and sigh; yet again, the lights on the ceiling are blank, leaving me with nothing to shield myself from the impending darkness.