The story she told

     
   The house was lit up like sparkling fire crackers in the kitchen and living room of a blacked out one story house. Inside, an older sister, whose twinkling eyes were lights of their own, told her younger brother and sister a mysterious suspenseful tale about lovers tango-ing under a well lit moon. They shook with happiness, waiting for the plot to unfold. Ann, the babe sister kissed her knuckles, the romance of the story having the effect of a drug on her. She twisted her hair and bit into her lip milking ruby red . The older sister spun her story in a way, that never ended, long after she was silent.

The story told in the house.

                  

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   The house was lit up like sparkling fire crackers in the kitchen and living room of a blacked out one story house. Inside, an older sister, whose twinkling eyes were lights of their own, told her younger brother and sister a mysterious suspenseful tale about lovers tango-ing under a well lit moon. They shook with happiness, waiting for the plot to unfold. Ann, the babe sister kissed her knuckles, the romance of the story having the effect of a drug on her. She twisted her hair and bit into her lip milking ruby red . The older sister spun her story in a way, that never ended, long after she was silent.

To breathe in experience

     The young coquet’s heart stopped when she remembered that she used to be a sweetheart. A darling girl, eager to see the world and experience it. The trouble was that her parents kept her locked in her books with a pen on her left palm. She peered out at the world through other people’s lives. When her parents disappeared, leaving only careful memories of warnings, she breathed in experience- good or bad, as fast as she could, before they returned her to her open solitude. She knew it was wrong. But she was the youth gone wild. She kissed one of her boys’ full soft lips and smiled.

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One of them

Beauty

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As she sat in the strawberry field with her young lover, he admired her worn wrinkled hands.He was wicked at heart, but still he came everyday to kiss her withered lips.He knew that she had been with innumerable men, but her past was nothing to his aching heart.  She was a dying gift sent to comfort his suffering cancerous bones. He saw bright blue eyes ,where there were irises washed of all color by years of tears, smooth clear skin on her freckled brown cheeks. She was Beauty and all he wanted was to watch her fade as he faded.

Hεя ทα๓ε ïร Dεαтн

Death pounded in his ears incessantly, beating her montonous rhythm as she sipped on her victim’s life. Its delicious thickness wrapped around her tongue and down her throat. He laid at her feet, staring unseeingly, yet knowingly, at the clawed feet that didn’t match the pretty pink face above him.She had been the weak once, until she chose an evil type of life. This, she offered to him, by offering her bloody wrist. He winced, and turned his head from the intoxicating red wine, refusing the life of a να๓ρïяε .