Short Story

“Ah, that’ll be that smart-mouthed foreigner – hollering for his breakfast, he was, like this here was some five-star hotel. Now you two be on your way – I don’t have time for this. We’re having a real busy time right now.”

After that Ismael called up the plug and told him the plan is happening in 45 minutes. Soon later Dylan came threw the door with a gold and leather one strap backpack wearing athletic black shorts and running shoes with a black nike windbreaker on. As soon as Dylan walked threw the door Ismael walked out and Dylan followed shut the door and followed Ismael as he was walked to the back of the house.

“I’ll be back at five” He called as the elevator doors closed. Slowly Feli pushed forward down the hall closer to the apartment number the Scott told him. 412, raising his hand he knocked three times, then he waited and waited, he heard shuffling about and what sounded like confused questions. After a moment the door was pulled open to reveal and disgruntled Gilbert, his white hair was in disarray, he had on a white cut off and pajama pants his slight look of annoyance morphed into worry at the sight of the

“Cyanide, Keep out of reach of children.” He snickers as he dumps a few tablespoons into the girl’s coffee. He then brings the coffee to her and watches her hand grasp the mug. There is no ruefulness in his head at this moment.

“210, here we are, this is where you ill be staying whilst you are here.” he said. “Thank you for the tour. Its nice to atleast know where i am going. This place is massive.” I exclaimed. “Oh how rude of me I didn't ask your name.” I was hoping he wouldn't ask this. I thought to myself. “Uhmmmmm….”

“When we opened the doors in the kitchen, we were shocked to find a door leading to the basement. Lying right in the middle of the floor, there were submachine guns, handguns and several rifles along with many knives. We also found a machine used for making false ID’s and driver’s license hidden in the basement that’s why Mathew Morgan’s driver’s license looks so real. Since Mr. Hudson lived alone, no one ever checked on him. As a result, when they murdered him, no one missed him. Pretty smart of Matthew Morgan to find someone like Mr. Hudson and replace him,” Steve said, shaking his head.

I press my face against the icy cold window. I watch one by one the snowflakes fall in the moonlight. I can tell it’s Christmas time even though nobody here says anything about it. It’s as if the ward tries to drag us away from any traditions a normal person would do. I think about the Christmases I spent with my kids.

Mother kisses the top of Clem's head and calls for Dad to bring her school. He sets his newspaper down and gets up. He walks over to me and kisses me on the forehead and grabs my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. This is an odd gesture to me seeing as affection is not necessarily allowed in our city. Apparently it is a form of self-indulgence, which is frowned upon in Rauhallinen.

(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.

“The annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. Like some kind of fertility right. I even checked with a professor who found the exact god that we are dealing with,” Fay answered.

Black, all he could see, among the ever encroaching darkness of night. Numb, all he could feel as scenes of death unfolded around him. “Go through first!” He shouted to his men, as they scrambled blindly toward cover. The screams of his men mingled with the sounds of the firefight created a cacophony that seemed like it would never end. The second wave of gunfire would soon ensue, leaching the land of life in one foul swoop. Despite this, he felt calm, knowing it would all end soon, and he would finally be taken to gates of heaven and accepted into god's loving embrace. He understood that he was young, but the war had seemingly aged him decades. No one would truly understand him, and he didn’t want them to understand, for that would mean

It has been a long 2 years for me. After Johnny and Dally died, nothing has been the same in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I guess I was right, we could get along without anybody but Johnny. The whole gang began getting in arguments about every little thing. That caused the gang to part ways. Steve and Sodapop found a better job that they could both work at in Oklahoma City a few months ago. Two-Bit just left town one day after one of the arguments and we haven’t seen him since. Darry is the only thing in this town that hasn’t changed. He still is a roofer and pays the taxes and bills. Cherry kept trying to talk to us greaser but I was the only one who actually talked to her. She stopped talking to me after a few months anyway. She went off to college

The now silent, smoking flats reeked of death. At the top of the plateau, Indrid Cole’s recent home was being invaded. Once again, there would be no more Capital of Men and, most likely, no more King.

It wasn’t’ much. The only protection from the elements was a blue plastic canopy. Propped up hastily with study metal shafts. The ends flapped wildly, as paramedics dressed in a neon orange jacket hurried in and out, hands constantly full with a stretcher. As we neared the makeshift hospital, a few of the ladies gasped softly at the bloody and bandaged bodies that quickly passed us by. Quickly and methodically, the dying was rushed in and the dead were removed.

The pixelated art style and overall top down, rogue-like look might turn away some, but it really is a must try. It is very unforgiving throughout the countless hours of playtime. I get sweaty hands all the time when trying to constantly dodge and weave through its bullet-hell nature. It is especially tough because if your life bar is depleted, it's over. There aren’t any checkpoints or extra lives or anything. It’s all the way back to the beginning of the game, trying to survive until the final stage where you confront your murderous mother.