When a star gives up, its core sets off a chain reaction, resulting in a supernova: the brightest light in the galaxy.
It’s comforting to know that stars are as desperate for attention as anyone of us.
Big Stories in Two Little Sentences
When a star gives up, its core sets off a chain reaction, resulting in a supernova: the brightest light in the galaxy.
It’s comforting to know that stars are as desperate for attention as anyone of us.
He says, “you breathe 25,000 times a day and expect to only love once in your life.”
But he does not know that I am ghost.
When they came for the sky the promised a better tomorrow. Too late though all of us were already in the ground.
When i was little i liked to ask my doll Natasha what day it is.One day Natasha answerd.
As she walked down the hall hearing the screams, she felt breaths behind her…
Mommy took me to the zoo.
I am still waiting for her to come back.
His liver is my heart and the eagle eats his liver daily is my pain of losing you. I’m here waiting for the light that never comes.
Ever since he was a boy, he had an undying passion for a woman’s beautiful eyes. Now on his deathbed, he insists that his collection of 300 pairs of eyes be buried with him.
“Take your medicine, GARY” his reflection spat. As any sensible man would do, Gary decided to listen to his better judgment and dump his pills down the sink.
“I promised you flowers,” She smiled as she cradled the bouquet in her arms like her first born. She hummed “happy birthday” softly to him before she placed the bouquet on the grave.
“I promised you flowers,” She smiled as she cradled the bouquet in her arms like her first born. She hummed “happy birthday” softly to him before she placed the bouquet on the grave.
I said that you should leave LA because it’s what you want to do. What I meant is: I love you more than I love having you.
The son of a Partisan and a pianist, I was born in Ljubljana, Slovenia on January 31, 1946, the same day the new Yugoslav Constitution came into effect. I died on November 17, 1989, whilst working as a television journalist in the state media, when a large, colourful chunk of the Berlin Wall – dislodged by an enthusiastic and probably intoxicated young Westerner in a Bruce Springsteen t-shirt – fell and hit me on my head.
You finish cleaning the soap out of your eyes, that’s when you hear a whisper telling you not to turn around.
We once braved the night, drew Frankenstein stitches across our faces and stuffed them with chemically sweetened day-glow treats. We now hide in fortified homes, wear surgically altered grins and proudly declare, “have another gluten-free ladyfinger – it’s organic!”
Stinking and tired he hauled Christopher from the river then, grabbing the nearest vine, he tied it about his waist and started to search frantically for Emily. The waters were raging as the rain poured down as she swept past him screaming and clinging for life on a splintered remnant of the boat he had built them.
Finally, hours later, when I was able to touch the soft white skin of her beautiful cheek, I felt dead eyes searching me with questions. I had loved her completely but found myself holding her lifeless body by the neck wondering who had written the words on the mirror.
Mum screamed, “if in doubt, kill them!”. I killed her this morning, there was no doubt.
She did it; she killed the man of her dreams.
She then wondered if he’d still be dead when she awakens.