The art of stealing is a delicate practice.
A little known fact is that thieves are also actors. The perfect crime is an amalgamation of being able to lie on the spot, and, most importantly, being able to ignore your moral compass. A thief must scan and evaluate constantly-changing surroundings before, during, and after the act. To knowingly take the property of another takes a great amount of strength, or none at all, depending on the who and why of the situation.
For Gabriel, the who and why were barely important.
Who and why were not the first things that crossed his mind as he sprinted out the dented double doors of the 7-Eleven with as many useless items as he could fit into the kangaroo pocket of his sweater. Who and why were not the things he worried about as his scuffed sneakers skidded across one frosty pavement to the next. The only thing he really thought about was how: how he was going to get out of this one.
this is meh vote :3
i have a really bad headache so im just voting to this random person.
TRUMP what happened to this country from the wall
to the muslims being captured to police not being condemned for their wrong doings
to him calling kim jong un rocket man like a kindegartener
to discriminating transgenders that fight for our country
to being a trader of our country by talking to russia
to disregarding our lungs because he ignores pollution and the greenhouse effect
to cutting millions out of healthcare what the heck were republicans thinking
“Mom….. dad…… he-help me….” her cries echoed. But there was no answer. She has been at this for two years believing someone would come and help her. “SHUT UP BRAT!!” one of the guards yelled smacking her cage bars. She curled up in the corner crying for her life and tears soaked her eyes and knees. The scars on her back were killing her and they didn't properly sew up their hole they put in her. Her legs were broken and her body and mind tortured. The cat tail were between her legs and her ears were bent backwards in fear, even though they didn't belong to her she grew accustomed to them. “Why do you sit and cry when there are many things you can do?” a voice in her head said. She looked up “ who's there?”
The voice laughed “your savior. I have a proposal. For your memories and the human's soul you hate the most i will turn you permanently into a demon. Your be able to escape and let hell loose” she stood up interested. The deal was already sealed. “Okey. you said let hell loose? Okey that’s exactly what i'm gonna do.'
As Osias walked down the street of the city, he took notice of every Perf who looked at him. He took notice of every strange glance, every glare, and knew exactly what they were thinking. Ugly Infer. As he waltzed down the street, his red hair flowed with the wind, the only splash of color on his person as the blonde, blue eyed Superior avoided him. He could feel their sneers as they lived in their happy lives, their happy Perf homes, with their happy Perf families. Bastards, the lot of them. Children pointed at him as he passed them by. His hazel eyes meeting theirs with a heated glare. That usually shut them up.
Osias made it to the building fairly quickly, ignoring the snickers of the school children. As he walked into the store, he made eye contact with kindly old eyes. The brown eyes of Rupert, the only man Osias had ever trusted. He picked up the apron hanging on a hook next to the door, adorning it before making his way to the back of the shop, smelling the scents of vanilla and honey as the baked goods let off steam on the counters. As he walked past the old black man, Rupert gave him a kindly wave, and went back to loading up the boxes with the many batches of bread that would then be put in the front store. The front of the store was run by a man named Carlos, a man that always put Osias into a bad mood. The Perf may have been better than most, but that didn’t change Osias’s opinion in the blonde S.O.B. It didn’t change anything.
He shrieked as a invisible storm entered his mind. He tried to fight back but it was too strong. All his life Zac had been running. Running from bullies, abusive parents and the world's cruelness. Was this his time to go? He felt his heart slow and his body slowly give up. Just as his last breath was about to be breathed something happened. A kind soul entered his twisting around the darkness inside his mind and dissolving it until there is none left. This kind soul was a new friend. Someone that was brave enough to stand up for him. Someone thoughtful enough to listen instead of ignoring his problems. Someone who cares. Thanks to them his soul is out of the darkness and back into the light. Everyone deserves a chance to live.
this is mine! :3
My Dad walked in. Fear rushed through my body. I could see the anger in his face. His face was cherry red and he wiped his belt off of his pants. He ran right into me as he stomped into the bathroom. I heard banging and clashing in the bathroom. I ran upstairs to my brother. He locked the door and we hid in his closet. After 5 long scary minutes, the clashing and banging stopped. We heard footsteps come near my brothers room. We both trembled in fear as my dad baged on his door. My brother held me tight in his arms and stroked my hair as I cried. My dad got the door open and yanked my brother out of the closet. He pushed him on the floor and beat him with his belt. My brother was screaming at me telling me to run. “Breena! Call 911!”
This is based on a true story. When I was younger, my siblings, mother, and I went through much pain. My dad would beat us, he would slap us around, and we called the cops on him multiple times. It was no longer safe to live with him, even be in the same room with him.
*snap* *breath* *snap* “picture one, picture 2” I mumbled as the buck scampered off. The rest of the herd farther back in the field. She scooted closer much like a lion in the fields of africa would while hunting its prey although she was alone and not looking to kill but to put out a powerful message to the world about declining numbers in animals. Mainly in the town she was in. She is a world photographer always bringing her camera, although she has only been to Hawaii, oregon, and Mexico. She had always had a passion for photography, adopted from her grandpa, it was one of the only things keeping her distracted from the real world, the cruel, terrible, real world she had bad experiences with. For a countless amount of reasons. She wanted to go to Manchester as there isn't a lot of wildlife, because of the massive cities in the UK. She feels as though that is the reason why because, in the dark of the cities there will always be the light of wildlife even if it’s just birds.
Honestly, this world of plastic is rather disgusting. Humans? I hate them. They’re terrible, horrible, and really just a nuisance to this wonderful planet. They gum up the oceans with their filth and chemicals. They make life a living hell for all other creatures that reside here. They take so much, leaving only crumbling concrete walls and corruption in their wake. How can this be? What led to this arrogant, greedy revolution of life? I couldn’t say. I suppose all creatures aren’t selfless in the least, but humans claim to be more intelligent. Shoving their way up to the top of the foodchain and looking down on everything else, including the Earth itself. But even though I find them to be so utterly sick and absolutely horrid, I can’t help but love them.
I’m only human after all.
Those eyes, those dark eyes, like pools of onyx flecked with something darker. “The black eyed bastard who started this all” that’s what Daud, the ‘Knife of Dunwall’ called him. I keep track of these things, of Emily Kaldwins trip to her father’s homeland, of her father Corvo Attano, ‘Karnaca’s Black Blade’ fighting an entire empire to save his daughter. Now I follow Billie Lurk, a retired assassin back to old tricks. She tries very hard to stay on the side of the right but with a sword in her hand it’s hard to resist the call of the blood. She tries to stay sneaky, or at least stay out of fights. But then He showed up, the beautiful man-made God, instilling another bit of chaos into the mix. He can’t even stay out of his own assassination. I tighten the leather gloves, one concealing the mark, my connection to the Void, and fix my sight on the ledge, this chaos with the empress is certainly a good way for a spy to make business, especially one with my abilities. In the blink of an eye I am on the other ledge staring down at the oblivious guard on the streets below, whistling a familiar tune. I turn away from the ledge and begin to make my way into the building, luckily the window was open. I slither in, testing each step twice before putting my full weight on it. I can hear breathing in the room next to me, too shallow to be one of someone who is fully asleep, I ready the sleep darts. And creep my way to the office on the other side of the room there is a dark glow, a displacement, a rune. The brothers down at the local overseers office needed a reason to arrest this accountant, and here it is. I make myself scarce and decide to leave through the front door, as I come out on the street I see the guard, I give him a friendly nod and walk on my way, singing a familiar tune. “What do you do with a drunken sailor…”
“What use does it have?” Scharlk questioned, handing the human the device through the slot in the barrier that kept it inside the containment hold.
“It plays music!” The human laughed, a word that Scharlk had only recently learned.
“And how does this help your species evolve?” They asked, looking at the human disapprovingly.
“It… Well, it’s a creative outlet. Different cultures have different styles, and those styles broadened over time. Some tell stories or get messages across, and some are just fun to listen too.” It said grinning up at them.
“...How does this make your species progress?”
“Can’t something just be?”
“Things are only made to help progress forward,” Scharlk stated. That was the belief of every Zaneth. That was how they had survived for so long. How had humans not learned this? It was common knowledge that they were a war race, but how had they infested so much of the universe by having such meaningless things?
“Ah, I think I know why nobody likes to make allies with you guys. You have no idea how to have fun.” The human was messing around with the holograms that came from the device, before they pressed something and noise started to fill the containment hold.
The human smiled at them, before making a soft and low sound come from it. The Zaneth stared for a moment, wondering for a moment if this was what the human was talking about when it was telling them about beauty.
The ground was covered with a thick layer of leaves, occasionally floating around due to the foot of a passerby. Sounds of muffled mechanical voices and children laughing and screaming filled the air. This was great for Rose Pfender, as Halloween was her favorite holiday. Getting to dress up in costumes and eat as much candy in one night as humanly possible? She couldn’t think of anything better. However, the same could not be said for Whitney Geller. Because Whitney Geller hated Halloween. She absolutely despised everything about it. The sound that Rose found so delightful made her want to scream. And not in the fun way like when you’re in a haunted house or watching a cheesy horror movie. But because her best friend Rose held the day so nearly and dearly to her heart, she found herself in some five dollar cat ears wandering about the streets. Just as she started to feel particularly overwhelmed and annoyed, Rose chimed in excitedly;
“Is that a haunted house!?”
Whitney’s already uncomfortable expression dropped. She knew Rose wanted to go through the haunted house.
“Here we go.” she mumbled to herself.
The rest of that night didn’t go so well for her.
It was a bad idea to go down to the warehouse district and he knew it. He knew it when he asked his best friend if he wanted to go with him, he knew when the sky started to turn gray, he knew when he heard gunshots being fired down from the dock, he especially knew when he had two burly men gripping tightly on either side of him while their leader repeatedly beat him with a broken bat.
Martin threw up, it was gross. All of his mother’s good and warm potatoes, and the steaks his father cooked up for his graduation. It all came up and out, warm, but not in a good way. He opened his eyes to spot small splotches of dark red blood in the mix of partially liquified food. Just as he had regulated his breathing he took another hit to his stomach with the force of a bull, or at least what he had imagined it to be like. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his best friend John watching him fearfully.
“Go,” he mouthed, noticing that one of his teeth had fallen out. As Marlin was about to mouth it again he was introduced to a quick and very painful twist to his left arm. He threw his head down and cried out. That’s when the rain started. As if any all powerful beings suddenly started watching him in his torture.
“Run!” he managed to croak out, looking towards the place where he had last seen John, but he wasn’t there.
I consider the plate, staring at it. The broccoli looks back at me.
Nietzsche's famous quote comes back to me- “When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” Or something like that. Probably originally in german, since he was, you know, German. So he probably didn’t write or talk or whatever in english. I mean, maybe he did, since most German people speak english, but whatever. Doesn’t matter.
I raise my gaze, from my meal to my parents, pleasantly making small talk. Ignoring me. Ignoring my struggle.
“I won’t,” I say, my voice a cracked and broken whisper.
They stop, turning to me.
“What was that, honey?” my mother asks.
“I can’t,” my voice grows in defiance, in resolve, in sound.
“Can’t? Can’t what?” she asks, still feigning blissful ignorance.
“I refuse to eat this broccoli.”
“Oh jesus,” my father says, putting down his fork and resting his head in his hands. My mother gives him a sharp look, then returns her gaze to me.
I continue, for what I say must be heard. “Every dinner, every night, I’m forced to consume this damnable vegetable. No more.”
“Language,” my father says reflexively, but I know his protest is little more than an attempt to silence my words.
I stand, gaining confidence. “Our founding fathers fought and died so we might all know life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
Mimi, my little sister, begins to join in the revolution, joyfully pounding her bowl up and down on the tray of her high chair. She can sense it. Soon we will be free.
“And as long as I must every night eat broccoli, I am merely surviving. But I want more than survival. I want to live.”
My mother opens her mouth, but if I want to live in a world free of forced veggies, I can no longer fear the threat of a time out. “I want to live in a world where I can bask under the sun, dance in the meadows, where I must no longer fight back vomit every meal because broccoli’s good for me. I want freedom. Freedom!”
My mother pats my head, saying “baby, how about a brownie after dinner?”
I acquiesce, knowing the offer is a fleeting one, and that the revolution will always live on in the hearts of the proletariat.
You hear the screams from below of all the war and sadness. You hear the typing of the bullies who are to cowardly to say something to your face and just hide behind a screen and anonymously bully you. You look down at the computer screen on your desk in the world below and think why did i let them get to me like that. Now i am gone and can't change what has happened. But there is one thing i can do. You float down to the rooms of the bullies and whisper something in there ear that makes them look back to see what is speaking but they see nothing. What you have said is something so powerful and life changing you say something that will stop so many deaths like yours. You then procid to go to the rooms of people reading those mean things and tell them something that makes them stop and think about what they are about to do. They think about what you have said. But the world will never know what you said that night, the words you spoke into so many ears. They will never know what you have done.
A girl stands in the rain. She can't move she is stuck in place rain is running down her face.
She can see what is happening around her but she can't say anything. Her name is Alex. Do you want to know how she got to where she is now? Well here is how.
Alex was in bed when a demon took over her body. SHe tries to gaining control of her body but she cannot. She can see through the demon's eyes. She is walking down the hall she sees all these figures standing in the halls and watches as they all enter her brothers room all she could think about is saving her brother but she couldn't. She soon realized that her house is haunted.She walks out her back door.she starts walking she walked all the way down town and when she got there she was stuck she could not move .And that is where we left off so now we are in the present let me tell u what happened next. She felt something sharp hit you in the cest Alex cries in pain as she hits the ground. She wakes up it was just a bad dream and her fear. DO you know what her fear was? It was dieing.
The forest was silent as Joan waited. It hadn’t been long- she had made her intent utterly clear- she would not tolerate an Immortal within her settlement. They were vile creatures- mockeries of humanity, all the worse for having been human, once.
You couldn’t call them human now, of course. The path to Immortality was steep, and oft paved with the lives of the innocent. They all gave something up when they changed- most often their morality, but sometimes their sanity, and occasionally even their very physical forms.
It was because of the last that she waited here, in this forsaken place of fog and strange animals, flute close at hand. She had done her research- This particular Immortal could not manifest in a strong breeze, or remain corporeal when exposed to music.
It formed, at last, out of the mist, a tall figure, colorless- save for the gold-bronze cracks originating from it’s chest, hands, and bare feet. The same color as it’s eyes, she noted, as it met her gaze.
She gathered her courage- the courage of her mother, her grandmother, and all of the ancestors yet Named.“Leave, creature of the Eternal City- leave, before I must force you.” She intoned, quiet and she hoped- resolute.
“And why, do you seek me gone?” It asked, just as calm, as composed, and she hated it- for creatures such as this had killed her mother, her grandmother, and so many more. She opened her mouth to speak, but it cut her off-
“Why do you seek me gone... When I have done nothing but help your kin who have come here before? I am your guide, in this, after all.”
Here we challenge ourselves and each other to write in the most daring ways.