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When One Day I Will Sleep

WHEN I MET YOU.

THE UNFORGETTABLE CRUSH THAT SHOOK MY SOUL.       HEATHER'S POV; I'm Heather Morgan Claus the daughter of a middle class family from Brooklyn. I was born a typical brainiac the smartest of all my family members and most definitely the only child of my parents. I was born with what I call average beauty a blue eyes,golden afro hair due to my distant African gene, an average height of 6,4 feet a big boob and buttocks and also a slender curve with big hips that made me feel insecure.  Being lonely was a normal thing for me was a normal thing because I had no friends except my overprotective cousins Kyle and Jules. They made me feel special and loved more than anything in the world and I was thrilled to be with them. Boys never came along to date me basically because it's either I'm too tall for their liking or I'm too robust or too perfect and studious or even much of a nerd who can't match their tastes. Kyle and Jules made sure I was okay and boy did they beat the shit outta those knuckle heads who dared to mock me for my appearance. Soon enough all these fantasies all came to an end because while I was in tenth grade and they were in their twelfth grade they both fell in love with some girls from the neighbouring school and I was soon discarded and left out to fend on my own. I became an object of mockery and taunts from all sides. Years passed but the bullying didn't stop and soon afterwards some stupid bimbo and their boyfriend all came to join what they called fun by bullying me. Jake the leader of the zeals was by far the most handsome and he had an emerald green eyes, lovely red hair, kissable lips and a fine body and he was more of a greek god's personality. He had a commanding presence that sent shivers down my spine. I thought he was an epitome of beauty but like the saying goes beauty comes from within. He was a tyrant and he made my life a living hell with every given chance he got. Belle his girlfriend a blond haired girl with brown eyes and long slender legs always taunted me relentlessly. One day while I was heading to my locker I was bumped into by belle and her friends Chloe and Charis. They gave me a hard time and without mercy they shred my clothe and made me an object of perpetual laughter while they made fun of my SpongeBob underwear, Evans and Michael Jenkins popularly know as MJ tired to cover my naked body but Jake ordered them no to do so. He stared at my body with lust and contempt in his eyes making me wonder what I had ever done to him to deserve all the hate. The shame was too much to bear and when I was went home I scrolled through the school platform and it was all over the media and I fell into a complete depressed stage. Days turned to weeks and weeks to years and then one day after the prom prank I had endured I decided to jump from the third floor of the venue. The pain was too much to bear as crismon liquid surrounded me like a pool. The pain felt like home and after several minutes of comfort I felt like my consciousness was slipping into the abyss surrounded by darkness.
ACETECH2605 · 2.3K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 704.6K Views
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