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For S.O.S. I wouldn't give away yesterday for anything.
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"You haven't been sleeping since I broke up with you."
Where was that worried face now?
by DarknessOfSanity
400 words,
on Oct 17 11:50 AM. In Friendship, Hope, Life, Loss, Love, Memories, Message, Other, Personal, Sad, Thoughts
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Watching the rain drops filling my head, Hearing the wind,
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“There is a Christmas tree in the cloister,” said Sister Claire, “and the nuns smile as they pass it by. My childhood is brought to mind by each light and sparkle; the angel on the top replaces the pagan fairy; my father poo
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“We’re going on the trails today?” I shout, a gleeful child of three small years. A short, somewhat chubby child, having hair not unlike an oak tree. Strong like the trunk, thick like the branches, dark like the bark, and blo
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The world has yet to reach its skinny, snarling, veiny and yet somehow skeletal hands around me and engulf my being into it's coldness.
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It's a sunny day and I was sitting by my window watching it pass. The kids playing in the afternoon sun stirred up a collection of memorie
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Borneo, an island of unmistakeable natural beauty, or so I've been told. In 1965 I had other things on my mind, such as fighting a bloody w
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She remembers some of the most important events in her life. To her. To you, there probably just some little thing that only she cares ab
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Terry Winchester knew she loved him, that boyishly handsome man from nearly five decades ago, but that part of her memory was failing fast.
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It was the smell that remained longest the smell of flesh burning of ash the sweet smell in the nostrils and the train and the long journey and close bodies too many so close and your mother and father and your sister Anne ne
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You withdraw the rosary from your inner pocket and hold it in your hand and gaze at it taking in the cross with the Christ in black ebony and the way He lies there in your hand his eyes closed and his arms out stretched and h
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He collapsed onto an old woman who tried to hit him with her handbag before she saw the blood. The train stopped at White City next.
by Horanzu
300 words, 3 comments,
on Feb 22 11:06 AM
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I sit in my room, curious and apprehensive, not knowing what to expect. I dress in a formal yet reserved outfit and take my heavy winter coat out of the closet. In the next room my mother applies her makeup, meticulously coat
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Walking into the bedroom I happen to notice your picture hanging on the wall.
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It was only when, I had snuggled deep down into my duvet that wonderful memories swiftly passed through my mind. Even though the memories w
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Glaring at the wall, Rachel sat up and spun to the side to put her feet on the floor right before a migrane hit her hard. Oh, what a thing,
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A while ago while I was still at primary school- elementary school to you americans- we used to play a game called "boys catching girls". Pretty simple rules really, the boys ran around behind the girls and tried to catch the
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“Oh, and Lily?” “Yeah, Rachie?”
“Don’t break your promise.”
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Sister Scholastica walked slowly from the church along the cloister and paused by the wall. The sun was warm; birds were singing from the mulberry tree in the cloister garth. Shrove Tuesday. Pancakes. Sister Benedict mentione
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Afternoon sun touched the cloister garth. The office of None had just completed. Sister Teresa walked slowly down the cloister from the chu
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Il dio è il miei testimone e guida, Sister Maria, the refectorian, had said, Sister Teresa remembered walking passed the refectory, touchin
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Blessed art thou amongst women. Sister Teresa closed the book. Brushed hand across book cover dispersing dust and thoughts. And blessed is the fruit…She lowered her hands to her stomach and tapped three times. Empty tomb; emp
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Sister Teresa put down the pen. Eyes searched page. White and black. Scribbled words. Meaning there some where amongst the lines, she mused. Bell rang from bell tower. Echoed around cell. Closed her eyes. Held hands together.
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“My art is my god,” said George. “My easel is my altar, my brushes and oils the body and blood of my soul. Turpentine is in my skin and clo
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I remember your laugh. It’s so different, and makes me giggle, myself. But I love it. I remember your smile. I remember how it would
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+++ The Apparition Man - part 110 +++
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Journal1 / Sunday, September 25, 20052 / The Sale gave me pause for thought. My cousin, Terri, was preparing to relocate in another part o
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“Now’s the Season” are the words heard from that age old song1 / Time of giving, sharing feasting, trimming trees with lights2 / Cards and letters filled with news t
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