Norman Rockwell show at Tampa Museum of Art an enjWe know as we look at his earlier works that we're looking at a world that was mostly fiction. But how much truth is there in a 17th century Rococo painting by Fragonard of always young and gorgeous aristocrats? We know that Rockwell was a commercial ...Norman Rockwell show at Tampa Museum of Art an enj5 days ago in Personal More Like This
Broken Destinies 14Broken DestiniesBroken Destinies 143 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Tonight was a stressful night. I hungered for answers to all my questions. But I was beat. I needed sleep.
They refused to let me sleep outside like I used to, and instead made me sleep in one of the spare bedrooms. Was it Pukki's bedroom when she was staying here? I don't know. But, oh well. At least it was somewhere to sleep. I lay in bed and slip underneath the thick covers and slowly drift into sleep.
"Jay, why are you naked like that? Where are your clothes?"
"Jay! What are you doing!? Stop! Get off me!"
"My clothes! Give them back! What are you doing!?"
"Jay, it hurts!"
"Help! Someone, help me!"
I jolt awake after that nightmare. I shudder from underneath the blankets, then slowly get up from bed, my legs still shaking. I peek outside my window and see William sleeping away from the planes, and in one of the trees. He looks so peaceful, and yet...in unknown time, he'll become Dengen's vessel...a blood lustin
Twice As NiceByron Black checked that his H&K USP was properly loaded, a round in the chamber, before taking his MP3 player out of the front pocket of his dark gray waistcoat and holding down the button in the middle, the black screen blinking to life. He’d need music to help him find his groove in things.Twice As Nice1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
Rockwell Haywood adjusted his cap, brushing his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes, and then set down the large black dufflebag the two had brought with them. Unzipping it, he lifted the heavy piece of gas operated machinery from within. Usually the two weren’t for anything extravagant, and Rockwell was used to using his bare hands in their work, but Byron had insisted they try something new. “Variety is the spice of life,” is what he always said. Another saying read in a book or a magazine the young killer saw fit to regurgitate at any opportunity.
“Sorry Hall and Oates, no can do, this time. What do you think, Rocky? Heart? Devo?” Byron mused aloud, using his