Zeito's love song. I have a songZeito's love song.1 hour ago in Short Stories More Like This
That'll last all day long
If only i could tell you
Of my story
Through the terror and the sorrow
I'll always be there
By your side
I will fight
Don't tell me
Your staying right here
I'm so sorry
I will miss
You so much
Can i tell you a secret?
I love you
Trying TimesA short story by: Cameron FrenchTrying Times6 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
There comes a time when one stops and wonders; what happens when someone is in debt and they can’t pay their daily expenses? The answer is plainly simple to most who would know all too well about the experience. Namely they’ve experienced it firsthand themselves or someone they knew had gone down this all too familiar road. This experience can also be plainly explained by a woman named, Mariah Conroy, whom had been down this dark and depressing road herself along with her two children, Jacob and Nicole. Mariah was an average and hard working housewife and mother of two children. Her face was clearly distinctive as being diamond shaped, with a seemingly tall forehead and slightly serrated chin and sloped jaw bones. Her brown eyes were a thick almond shape with a single half inch of white showing in her eyes, almost like a very large nut in a peanut shell. Her eyebrows were almost as thin as a blade of grass, curving themselves up
Takie kwiotkiNorwegia siedział w saloniku Polski i popijał kawę. Gospodarz zajął fotel naprzeciwko gościa i nerwowo obracał w palcach łyżeczkę do cukru. Atmosfera była dość nerwowa. Feliks widocznie zbierał się w sobie by obwieścić coś ważnego.Takie kwiotki14 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
–A więc? – Zapytał uważnie przyglądając się polakowi przyodzianego w łososiową sukienkę koktajlową.
–Jesteśmy przyjaciółmi prawda? – Feliks wpatrywał się w swego gościa z lekką paniką i niepewnością.
–Zaiste. – Odpowiedział mu, zakładając nogę na nogę.
–Potrzebuję twojej pomocy.
–Co? Nie. – Rzeczy Pospolita zmieszał się lekko. Lukas uniósł brwi.– Nie chodzi o pieniądze. Bo ja…jestem dziewczyną.
Cartoon super stars save the day prologueCartoon super stars save the day prologueCartoon super stars save the day prologue8 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
Our special starts off with your normal everyday family. We have a father, a mother, a teenage daughter, and a little brother.
“Cartoon super stars save the day,” says the mother.
Is the story of a teenager who deals with horrible drug abuse.” “Some of your favorite cartoon characters will help you understand how drugs and other dangerous substances can ruin your life,” says the father. “Pay attention to it,” says the teen. “Talk about it with your friends and family.” “And make the right decision!” says the brother. “Stay away from drugs and alcohol.” The family smile at each other and embrace.
A Troubled LifeA woman was running through the rain, her black Mary-Janes pounding against the sleek, wet pavement. It was two in the morning, the only sources of light were coming from the lamps on the sidewalk and the few cars that passed by. She was panting, her long, black hair sticking to her forehead, rain and sweat dripping from her brow and chin. Her heart pounding against her rib cage like a hammer on a nail. She was holding a package securely in her arms. But why? Why was she running in the rain at such an hour? A late night delivery? No, Because of him. He was coming, he was coming to take the package. She was getting tired, her legs begging for her to stop. But she kept running, she couldn't stop. She could already hear the pounding of the man's feet, his breath sprinting after her. The woman accelerated, slipping against the wet cement under her feet and tripping against the cracked pavement. He was getting closer, the woman could hear his heavy breathing. His feet were pounding liA Troubled Life10 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
Pictures of Perfection 4Part 4Pictures of Perfection 41 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
It is easy to recognize the sound of his laughter, as it has its very own, lively and free note to it. He has settled into this common way of life and the man with the red hair the shade of wine seems comfortable, his amber eyes that have seen many an adventure fixed on his wife who has just dropped the dozens of pages of manuscript. The papers scatter on the kitchen floor, on the dog’s food and water bowls, on a school bag which lay haphazardly under the table. I let my eyes wander from the woman to the teenager with the color in his eyes slightly darker kind of violet blue than his mother’s. The copper-red hair is fixed in a cool manner, he seems to be concentrating on his phone yet grins right on cue. The final participant of this morning is trying to hold his laughter as he finishes his second bowl of cereals. Sporting his brown hair very short the second son looks mean, but his inherited amber eyes have gentleness in them that speaks mountains.