“I’m scared.” She’d admit, hugging him tighter as she tried to keep the tears at bay. He had told her many times that he hated seeing her cry—that she was most beautiful when she smiled, the radiance in her sparkling eyes were addictive. “I don’t want to lose us.”
Cause that was how they were. One would not live without the other, for they were a package deal. There would be no George without a Fred, and there would be no Fred without a George.
I am a feminist because I believe that people are free to be who they are. They shouldn’t have to deal with other people telling them how to be and how to act, because why should another person have to dictate who you have to be?
I’d managed to convince my grandfather to stop over at a gasoline station. I promised I’d be quick and practically dashed out of the car without a care in the world. Apparently, I was so focused on my quest for frozen dessert that I hadn’t noticed the staggering amount of policemen in the vicinity—then again, I was young, why would I have cared?
The four of them were gathered around the fire. It was warm, and the soft orange-yellow glow of the flames was a welcomed contrast to the darkness of the cold night that enveloped them with its overbearing presence. Abigail, in particular, was very thankful—she was terrified of the dark.
There was a boy that was told to steal something and to make sure that he wouldn’t get caught doing so. He decided to steal a living, breathing, fox and hide it inside his own coat.
One hundred and forty characters is enough to convey any emotion if you think about it. I just tend to over achieve and make poetry when ranting suffices.
Her deep brown, almond shaped, eyes never seemed to lack those dark circles that had seemingly made her face their permanent home. No matter who asked, no matter how it was asked, she’d always given the same answer—“I dream in color.”