The Wolf Monologue

The rain had just stopped pouring, and we had all gathered in a park nearby, as a makeshift memorial for Johnny. It wasn’t really a funeral, we didn’t have the budget for that, and it wasn’t like his parents cared enough to give him a proper goodbye.

I kept writing. It was hard, but I could get everything off of my chest. I could explain to people what had happened to me. I could tell my English teacher. It was a little hard, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. Greasers didn’t cry.

Have you ever wanted to be in Williamsport playing baseball? Well, I have I’ve been practicing since I could hold a baseball. Now all my training paid off. I finally made it. So did my friend Johnny. Johnny and I made it to Williamsport on different teams. It’s the Elimination game. Who ever loses goes home. It was a close game. Until the 9th inning the bases were loaded. Jimmy was on 1st, Timmy on second and Joey on 3rd. I’m up - 3-2 count. Johnny is pitching. He throws me a fastball right down the middle.Crack I crush it. Going… going… gone! A walk off grand slam. We win! After the game we go shake hands with the other team. I come to Johnny. I put out my hand and he doesn’t even make eye contact. He just walks away. The

The man sat in the booth across from me studied me with old eyes. His wrinkles which formed when he used to smile so much are no longer quite as prominent. The man’s irises were currently an icy blue, resembling the seasonal weather among the small town. This I only knew because I’ve seen him once before. His eyes were almost like a crisp auburn- resembling what was known to him as “the falling of the children”

I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything.

Wolfsheim, a man over embellished by rings and lavish attire. He leans forward to address a young wide eyed Gatsby. Gatsby leans in and follows Woldsheim’s story of his tough childhood in Manhattan. Wolfsheim blight was being the son of an abusive business man and that he knew nothing better than a life of physical and emotional abuse.

to accept it, this is my eternity, i'd stay here forever and ever. I guess this is it, my whole life and it's all wasted. I wonder if I could have done anything different, maybe be kinder, give to the poor, I don't know. I'll never get married or have children.

Jesus christ! Haha. This is basically the best post I've ever read on here. Sorry for the late reply.

I am Chris and I am a 19 years old, an avid fisherman, and I almost exclusively use riot baits for every situation I am in. The fuzzy beaver is the best trailer for a jig that I have ever used and it is great for fishing docks on a shaky head hook or even weightless. The streaker absolutely slays fish when swimming it through weed beds or through cover. The riot stick has better action than a senko and the durability is incomparable. I don't understand why anyone would use anything other than riot baits. I live in northwest New Jersey and fish lakes and reservoirs every second of my free time in my kayak. I run into dozens of fishermen daily and always talk up your bait. I have even gotten a local bait shop to look into carrying the

The bell had just rang, school was out. “Olivia, Mrs. Larsson calls.” Olivia is in 6th grade. Her teacher Mrs. Larsson talks to her every day after school telling her the same thing over and over. “You been misbehaving at lunch today”! But this time it was different. “Olivia it's your turn to stay after school and clean the room”. Olivia hated cleaning the room after school, she always ended up staying too late. “ Now run along and tell your mother, I don’t want her to worry like she did last time!” “Ok Mrs. Larsson.” I reply, I run to call my mom but she didn't answer, and my dad was at work so I couldn't call him. “Yup my mom knows.” I say, but she really didn't. “Ok then, well I am going to go home so behave yourself!” Mrs. Larsson says

The air reeked of alcohol, the intoxicated breaths of young people colliding together over drunken slurs to create one distinct scent. She kept her head low as she made her way through the maze made by the seemingly endless crowd. Full of regrets, she was doing all she could to get out of there, the distraction turning out to be nothing more than a few drinks with people who didn't even know when her birthday was. The song finished abruptly, followed by simultaneous cheering. She kept moving, weaving in and out of people with fierce determination until she walked right into him. She murmured a quick apology and went to continue when the familiarity of the figure in front of her hit. She hesitantly looked up, heart dropping into her stomach at the mere sight of him.

“You know it won't bring him back,” Wallace, Code Name: Papa Bear, pointed out. Of course, he's the only person in the world that would dare say that to her now, but he's always been different. Deadly in a professional capacity only, he was efficient back in the day, and better with information extraction than anyone she'd known.

Nothing was heard, only the water droplets that drops from the crack ceiling. Making a small puddle on the ground, having mice roaming around the place.

The beast that they are talking about, I wonder if it’s real? I wonder if it has a body? Jack is always talking about how the beast is trying to hurt us. I haven’t even seen this so-called beast before, does it even exist? It must exist, that’s why everyone is terrified… haven’t you noticed, haven’t you? They’re frightened! I mean the way things are, they dream and you can hear them, have you been awake at night? They talk and scream. The littuns, even some of the others. As if… as if this isn’t a good island. As if the beastie, the beastie or the snake – thing is real. Maybe there is a beast?

Scene one. INt. Study. Twilight.The man had brown eyes and black hair () is sleeping at his desk. He wakes up and yawns.Man/father. ()It's time the boys knew the truth. I'll tell them tommorow on (Austin's') birthday. For I was sixteen when my father told me the family secret.He got up and looked around his study. THUMP. The man turned to the door where the loud banging noise had come from.the door was now open a slit. He grabbed the salt canister off his computer desk. Closed the laptop he was writing on and went to the door. He flung open the door sprinkling salt in the corridor beyond. He gasped in pain and turned to his attacker.He had a look of horror on his face.Unknown assassinThey always die early on me.(In a raspy voice full of air)Scene two. INT. STUDY.