As far as I know, I had never been sick before today. Never missed a day of school in my life. The the only time I had had ever thrown up, it had been Jameson, in Dublin, on Saint Patrick's day.
But here I was in the E(more)R lobby, with a lump in my throat like a conch shell and brain full of sand.
With no good magazines, I resorted to arbitrary twiddling with my phone until my eyes flicked to the sound of the opening door.
I blinked and my mouth dropped open a bit. Long legs and a wave of auburn hair, which she swept out of her eyes as she turned to sit down. With her head slightly lowered, shot me a
moment's look with irises like little green planets shining at me. I blinked and my mouth dropped open a bit. She was beautiful. She looked away and rummaged around in her bag.
Then she looked back at me as she applied lipstick. As she smiled I noticed the light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. She patted the seat next to her pointedly.
I hesitantly got up and sat.
"Hey honey," She said as if she were my wife. As she touched my arm gently I felt a jolt behind my eyes and immediately leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. As I drew back I wondered, shocked, why I had done that. But the girl was smiling as if this was a completely normal behavior for strangers.
I put my hand on her thigh, this time certainly not by my own will.
"I'm ready for this kidney transplant if you are," I said, immediately terrified by the words I had just spoken.
A heaviness invades the air, one that I recognize from other summers in other years. The sun sets and in the distance flashes of light explode against the black, cloudy backdrop. No thunder. Not yet. This is either a storm, or heat lightning.
(more) When the sky lets loose, it brings with it a breath of cold air. The raindrops fall heavy on the pavement. I turn out the lights and open the curtains, watching as the swarm of suicidal water droplets splat against the window. They slowly creep down the window the the ground, dead raindrops falling in an overly dramatic death scene. On their way to nourish the ground.
Behind this, lightning streaks across the sky at various intervals. Still no thunder. There's nothing but the light sound of music wafting down from my room upstairs where I left the stereo on when the rain began and the sound of a miniature summer waterfall dripping onto the city, the roof, the window.
I take it all in and fall under the spell. When I close my eyes it is there in my dreams, until I wake with the morning sunshine. (less)
She watches them fall one by one. Person by person, he weaves his magic over their heads until there is nothing left, nothing that made them the people she loved.
Why she remains untouched, she does not know. A forgotten love, perhaps. However, she cannot do anything sav(more)e wander the streets she once knew – the streets devoid of laughter and life and cheer. She wishes to strike out at him, to put an end to this – oh, to hear laughter again! – but any attempt would be futile.
So instead she roams alone, condemned to embrace the "gift" of her "salvation."
He sits next to you in music theory, casually draping an arm over the back of his chair, and offers some standard pleasantries which you parrot back without really looking at him. You’re not actually trying to be rude, it’s just, you’re (more)a long way from home, this is the first class, and you’re not really sure who this guy is only that he looks really weird and you really want the class to start so you won’t have to actually talk to him, but, well, that’s what you get for getting here so early. He strikes up conversation. You find out he’s pretty much as weird as he looks.
There’s nothing particularly unusual about him like a third eye or a verbal tic, but there’s something about him that’s kind of… alien? It’s in the way he carries himself. He’s kind of like a five-year-old in that he seems to completely disregard whatever other people think; even if you flat-out told him to leave, he’d probably talk over you. You kind-of envy that assurance. Almost against your will, you find yourself opening up to him in the ten minutes it takes for the professor to make her appearance. Just a bit.
Right before class starts he twists back towards the front and the collar of his shirt shifts slightly against his neck, a movement your eyes are subconsciously drawn to, and suddenly you know exactly how it feels to grip the ridges of his esophagus, you know the precise circumference of his neck, you know the exact timbre of the sickening crunch it makes when snapped. You are intimately acquainted with these horrific details and you have no. Idea. Why.
im under your spell
you have me enthralled and like putty in your hands
cant sleep or stop to think with out your image in my mind
people think im an idiot for still liking you but i do and i should keep
until my heart shatters
until you(more) give me hell
love me while you have me under your spell(less)
If you ever met James Parsons, your first impression would be cool. He was the captain of the varsity basketball team and played football as well. James was a senior in high school, and had it all going for him. Girls, sports, and academics.
(more) One night, his best friend Marco called him up and told him about a crazy party in the woods. Naturally, James grabbed his car keys and drove over to pick up Marco. Together, they loaded Marco's keg into the back of James' Jeep, and set out for the party.
They arrived at the woods, and set out to mingle.
"Hey James, you know Alicia right?" Marco whispered to James.
"Yeah?" James replied
"She's giving you the eye bro, you should go talk to her" Marco responded. With a little shove by his friend, James walked over to Alicia and struck up a conversation. Eventually, she suggested for them to take a walk. James was feeling a little queasy but he thought hey, what the hell. It's only a walk. They started talking about college, and how James was going to Duke, when he suddenly felt a chill run up his spine, and cold air enter through his mouth. James' eyes went blank, and he suddenly stopped walking.
"James? Are you OK?" Alicia asked him.
Without a word, James stepped up to Alicia and grabbed her with both hands around her head. She screamed, but not for long, because with a quick twist, he snapped her neck.
Several minutes later, James regained focus, and felt warmth seep back into his body. He looked down, only to find Alicia's twisted head stareing right back up at him with lifeless eyes. With a shout, he sprinted into the woods, never to be seen again.(less)
She finally fell into her small, cramped bunk, and staring at the ceiling, wondered how it had come to this. Her world had suddenly come to a screeching halt, and she had been the cause.
Donald had been with her since the days at the academy, he too(more)k her under his wing, and developed her from the young, raw recruit off the streets into the killing machine she was today. The training had not been wholly successful though; she had never killed voluntarily, until today.
Donald lay on the floor next to her bunk with glossy eyes and his head held slightly askew. The life having seeped out of him hours ago and his clothes, ripped and torn, held evidence of terrible abuses and exposing the mortal wounds.
Had she really done this? Had she finally suppressed her insufferable conscious or had she been compelled by some force, had she fallen under a spell?
She was completely comfortable, completely at ease with what she had done. She wasn't shaking and her hands were dry. In fact, she demonstrated none of the signs of anxiety one would anticipate with acts of mass murder.
But that's how history would remember the day. The SS Serenity's exploratory mission ended in failure, ceasing communication with the United Federation after the crew was slain by a rogue soldier under the influence of the shadowy Hegemon.
History is rarely an accurate representation of the facts, but that didn't matter, she would have to accept her brand as a killer. She had earned it, and over the next thirty years, the universe would realize it was well deserved. The Serenity was just the beginning. (less)
We caught eyes from across the room. His gaze lingered longer than mine dared to. Who was this magnificent creature and why did I long to look at him? His stare felt like it was a corset, pulling my stomach in tighter, arching my back, allowing my behind to(more) curve and my chest to push out of my shirt. Why was I trying to impress some stranger? He could be anybody and nobody... But maybe this was the appeal. Just beautiful nothing.
I glanced over at his perfectly polished shoes and traced up his body, undressing him with my eyes. Oh no. A hint of a smile on his lips. He's seen me. I look sheepishly into my drink fighting the urge to giggle. I feel like a teenager. I want very much to walk over to him, but no, it would ruin this, this game we have. It's thrilling.
Slowly I look from under my lashes up at his chiseled face. He's loosening his tie whilst holding my gaze, undoing his top button. A coincidence? I hardly notice that I've managed to pop my top buttons too. What is going on? What am I doing? He pushes his hair back exposing his biceps in the process. I'm getting weaker. I look away.
The room is full of noisy passers by, ordering food and drinks at the bar. I try to focus on others but feel myself being pulled back to him. I take a final look... He's gone. Where is he? I realise I'm really quite bothered by this. Darting my eyes around I spot him walking into the toilets... The ladies toilets! Goodness! He turns and winks at me with a devilish charm... I follow. (less)