ZombieboyZombie Boy The rattling was irritating. A foot stepped to a door, and a hand, quite related to the foot, forced that very same door back. The body of these appendages stayed well grounded. The driver of this train didn't notice the lad in the doorway for a few moments, but he felt a presence. And then he heard this: "You're fifteen minutes late." To his astonishment a boy stood behind him in quite a temper. "Hullo?" he said, intersecting a spiteful grumble he'd recite to himself in his solitude. "Can I help you?" "You're fifteen minutes late," stated the boy. The following mumbles from the driver were quite of a different sort,
Dead File Romeo and JulietDead File Romeo and JulietBy R.A. Ludlow1To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.-J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Elizabeth looked about at the stone teeth protruding from the ground. All besides the path was overgrown with dark grass. The walls about it were just as that colour, as was the neglected church at the path's reach. The wind was cold, but the afternoon was still quite bright. The clouds peered suspiciously upon the deformed mouth and its victim within, and Elizabeth smiled.She finally settled herself against a secluded gravestone and began scribbling words on paper.
.Scent.He grabbed her hair. She cried and he held his gun to her head. All the students in the room quivered in silent fear. Two large boys of African descent lay dead upon the cheap carpet. Their blood had poured and set in darkly about their heads.The boy holding the weapon was named Smith. Smith sniffed the hair of the girl whom he'd pulled. A mixture of perfume particles and those of hair conditioning were sucked into the depths of his nostrils. In the past it was beautiful to his senses, and he somewhat related it to ugly females. But today it was all but completely unsensational, for his heart had other drives to race.He pulled her head ba
Divine ZI just didn't want to get off the school bus. Apparently I just decided one day that I wouldn't. I crossed my arms and stared forward, intent on rooting my buttocks into the decaying leather of the cold seat. Trying to imagine myself now, I picture a ten year old with a scowl, but I was actually sixteen, which is embarrassing. Don't judge; I'm sure I had a reason, I just don't remember it. You see, the walk from the bus to the school was very, very cold in the winter. I didn't like it one bit, and so I thought, 'well, why the hell should I?' It made perfect sense, I think. When it's cold, one wants to stay warm, so I went about it.
Sta.sh
