Short Story

Harry couldn’t help but notice the tiny bruises on Nick's body. There was one on his side and another on his collar bone. He cleared his throat loudly getting the alpha to look at him again.

“The boy went back to the corner where he had been studying and pulled out a thick book carefully covered in brown paper.” (pg 233)

Brent walked down the dirty road to Old Irt’s home, or what used to be that. He stood outside, memories flooding back to him. Closing his eyes, he creaked the door open, dust falling to the floor as he did this. Inside, Brent saw nothing but books and old papers. He sat down in a chair and picked up one of Old Irt’s books. The first page was blank, all except for something Old Irt had written inside it.

He stared at the rings in his hand, then back at the parchment, absorbing the bitter truth. It was over. Fleur had left him. But how could she do this without telling him why? That was it? Forgive me? She had nothing more to say? He grabbed up Rion's letter. It wasn't right, but Percival needed to read what was inside; he might go mad if he did not.

Thomas blinked, and the words disappeared. He ran down to the chocked-full sleeping quarters. He had seen that writing before the night his parents had died, and he had thought he was imaging things and forgotten. That night, his parents had died without a scratch; no one could figure out what had happened.

I ran my hands over the smooth, heavy parchment and began reading. The letter was written with the intention of going to someone named Adalie’s second cousin explaining their absence from the family reunion and the recent events of their life. By the end, I found the letter interesting, almost like a biography, enthralled I decided to write back. I apologized for opening it, and I even put what I had been up to lately (leaving out the diabetes/transplant thing because I was not in the mood for a pity party.) I proceeded to put the letter back into my mailbox, running my hands over the rusty, yellow metal, then went back to my monotonous daily routine.

Knowing you have a mate gives you a strange type of high. You know you'll never be able to hold him, or love him or even admire him from afar without getting slander from the whole pack and yet, you still somehow find yourself hoping that maybe this is the moment when you finally break out of the prison of an isolated life.

Since Margaret was alone during the daytime, while Andrew worked, he worried about her. Even though, she had suggested calling the police, she said, “You have no idea what those people are capable of doing. It frightens me to think they would leave a box like that on the front porch. Please, call the police.”

Klaus ran into the compound maneuvering around broken furniture, up the stairs and into Caroline's bedroom. The room looked the same, from the last time he was there. Except for the acute smell of blood that filled the room. Freya was there, tending to Caroline. Klaus walked into the room and pushed Freya away, he kneeled beside the bed and gently took her hand. "Its ok, Caroline. I'm here." he whispered to her.

Harry kept his head down, eyes transfixed on the paper before him as the train rattled and swayed from one side to the next. Everything about his posture conveyed his yearning for solitude, though that didn’t seem to deter Louis from staring. He had started his journey two seats in front of Harry, his blue eyes shifting back to glace at him every few seconds. Now he moved with the sway of the train to the seat beside the boy. He had never been a nervous soul and spontaneity was his forte. It was now Harry was forced to look up. “What are you doing?’ Louis asked with a raise of his brow. Harry’s own drew together. “Writing.” Louis brushed wisps of bottled, cherry bomb red hair from his face. Last week it had been blue, purple the week before

He leans back in his chair, giving me his full attention. In that moment, I wish I could've told him how much it sucked being a moron who couldn't keep her mouth shut in front of the wrong people.

I saw beautiful, white smiles across the room. There were couples kissing and others counting down as the senseless crystal sphere in New York slid down a giant metal pole. With red wine for Grandma and sparkling grape juice for the younglings, a joyful celebration began. This was a new beginning for some, and for others, a continuation of what came before. Regardless, the community of friends and family laughed and rejoiced together as one.

(Y/N) let out a frustrated growl and absent-mindedly stared at her screen full of code. She grabbed Kwehvin Lockhart, her rubber chocochick, from her desk and tossed it between her hands.

Merlin walked into the abandoned bedchamber. Once again, Melancholy dampened his spirits. He sighed and looked around the area. Sunbeams streaked through the open windows. The bed linens lay in a carefully folded pile on the bed. The chamber pot lay emptied and surprisingly clean by the bed's side. Despite the slight chill in the air, its freshness tickled his nose.

“Hello.” But call hung up after 17 seconds. So the Plaintiff called him up again a second time, at 2:59:33 PM. The call was answered, the Plaintiff said politely in a calm voice, “Hi Tony. How are things going?” The Plaintiff heard him mumble in the background, and then paused. Then Plaintiff waited for him to speak for about 30 seconds. But he did not speak, and he was silent. Then Plaintiff asked, “What’s going on?” He then said in a low tone, “I don’t know.” I then told him, “A guy outside is telling me that I need to speak to you to get an HR number.” Then the phone was silent for about a minute waiting for his response. Then he hung up. SEE EXHIBIT “O” Cell Phone Call Log. Then one security guard, said, “Let me talk to him. Give me