Little StarI sighed and put my gloves on. "Dad, I'm going to school!" I yelled before I crawled over my bed and grabbed my wheelchair and crawled into it. Yes, I'm in a wheelchair. I'm paralyzed from my lower body since 3 years. I grabbed my bag from the ground and drove out of my room into the hall but I stopped. "Dad, you dropped everything on the ground again, can you take it away? I need to go to school." I said and looked into the living room, where he was lying on the couch, watching tv.More Like This
"Do it yourself, I'm busy." he said without looking at me.
"Oh sure, I can see you are." I rolled my eyes, while I tried to grab his stuff to put it away but it didn't work. "Dad, I can't get it, can you please help me?" I said and looked at him again.
He sighed and stood up. "It's because it's the only way to get you shut up and out of here." he said and hit the back of my head before he grabbed his stuff from the ground. "Why do you have to be in that stupid wheelchair.."
"Well, it's not like I want to be
Instincts - FrerardI still remember the night I fell in love with Frank Iero.More Like This
For the millionth time.
Wild things are what revolutionized the development of intelligent life as we see today. Miniscule bacteria, evolved over billions of years to eventually become the greatest creation of all time to this date; mankind.
We are animals.
But unlike animals, we think freely and we are perceptive. We imagine. We decipher. We decide.
Because of these abilities, these gifts given by time, we are the most intellectual species out there. We can outsmart any other animal. We are the top predator. The crest of the food chain.
The single thing that we share in common with every other living creature in existence, the thing that knits us together as a kinship, are instincts.
Instincts are defined as the innate capacity of an animal to respond to a given stimulus in a fixed manner.
Instincts are a reaction to either an environment or an action that triggers a behavior for the purpose of fulfilling
I See You in Everything - Frerard - One-ShotI See You in EverythingMore Like This
I stare at my beside table vacantly, the bottle of pills glaring back at me. My heart does this little stop-start, and I gasp in a quick breath. The pills let out a laugh, making me cover my ears and lean over so far my knees touch my chest. A hiccup-like noise passes through my parted lips; God, I'm so pathetic sometimes! Still holding the sides of my head, I stand and walk to the window. I smile as I look out, seeing you waving to me from the outside. I return in, but as I acknowledge your presence, you vanish in a puff of smoke. A frown, something almost permanent on my face, creeps into my features as I turn away from the glass.
I run a hand through my black hair, a heavy sigh fleeing my chest. I go to the mirror on my dresser, and take in my checked pajama bottoms, dirty black t-shirt, and unkempt and filthy hair. I huff out a breath; something moves at the ve
His Time on Earth - Frerard - OneshotHis Time on EarthMore Like This
With a shaking hand, I brushed the flop of black hair off his forehead. He swatted my hand away; he hated my fussing. My daughter, just five years old at the time, tugged on the hem of my long-sleeve shirt. I picked her up and kissed her chubby cheek gently while her short legs hugged my hips; she giggled at my affection and pulled softly at my locks of fiery red hair. Chuckling, I poked her nose and looked back at the frail boy in the bed.
He'd been discharged from the hospital only days ago, so he could spend his final days in his home, a place he knew and was comfortable with. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to die in a strange place. All I knew is that I'd never want to die that way, in a hospital bed with stark white all around me. It must be a lonely way to die.
I glanced at my watch; where was he? He was always late, I swore. My daughter buried her face i
Tears - Frerard - OneshotTearsMore Like This
I remember when I first saw Frank. I thought . . . well, I thought he was weird, honestly. He was the kid that sat in the back of the classroom with his head down all the time. He never took notes, or read aloud, or volunteered to answer a question or run up to the board like everyone else did. He was always kinda subdued in the way that I thought he was going to burst out in tears. And as it turns out, he always wanted to. He just never did, until one day, when we were in the sixth grade.
He was sitting behind me, in our assigned seats. I turned my head back to look at him and saw he had his forehead on the edge of his desk, as always, but his face was illuminated by the screen of his cell phone, which he had hidden under his desk. I watched, rather helplessly, as a tear slid down his nose, off the tip, and down to spatter on the screen. He was crying.
"Frank?" I whispered.