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You probably think you know damned near everything about wizards and stuff, or more than you want to know about those phony blood-sucking vampires and all, and you're probably right. But I decided to kick myself back to life here in the shape of this near
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And then they stopped. And there I stood on the corner, scoffing at my attackers. I knew they’d try something, I expected it.
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“You sure?” He nods. “Maybe it was pneuomonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.” Flash of a smile, sobbing laughter, like an abandoned seal.
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My hold loosens. The crescendo, the descent begins. Things begin to fade in their luminosity.
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The sun was bright, warm and blew through my hair like the wind.
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This was her revenge for being torn away from her lover. Ah. What is the use of beauty but to seduce?
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The only way to get better at this writing thing, thought Melvin...
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The bowl on the rest stop sink was full of potpourri. I put my gun in my coat pocket. The potpourri smelled of cinnamon, my hands smelled of gunpowder, and as I looked in the mirror above the sink, I couldn't help thinking about Christmas. Sam had got his wife a…
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He checked the wind speed, which was irrelevant, just something he liked doing when he was outside. It was calm. He stepped out into the road.
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What the fuck is that smell? Puke? Pine-Sol? Oh shit!Back seat of a cop car.Again?What is it this time?“Excuse me, officer? Where the fuck are my clothes?”
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Some people might find it strange and a bit obsessive to mow their lawn every day, but to Shiram it was an irreplaceable part of his daily existence.
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The train sits in the main station and you see a man foist himself into a seat next to a young woman in jeans, stabbing his lit cigarette close to her face, "Don't you ever pretend you don't know me again, you hear?"She freezes. Only her eyes frantically dart, lock onto…
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It felt like I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, like I’d walked into a house that looked like mine, but belonged to someone else.
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You transfix me. Scribble your name on my slate. White Chalk. Black Ink. It's a blood splotch — bloated -- so what? “It'll heal,” you said, and I thought you were crazy. Or maybe it was the other way around? Your spit tastes of salt … of raw meat ……
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“The wound is the place where the light enters you…”- JALAL AD-DIN RUMIFollowing my lithium poisoning by my doctor, I went into a delirium, a vortex of darkness of losing myself sucked into a swirling black hole of space, no language, no way to communicate,…
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