Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
Do you want to achieve something or do you just want to make money?_ asked a nearby man in a white shirt to another man in a striped shirt. I waited for the answer as I slowly walked past them. __hy is it an either or question?_ the man in the striped shirt finally murmured philosophically under a sip of beer. They both stood there looking at each other in thought.
Minor Snobs
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Do you want to achieve something or do you just want to make money?_ asked a nearby man in a white shirt to another man in a striped shirt. I waited for the answer as I slowly walked past them. __hy is it an either or question?_ the man in the striped shirt finally murmured philosophically under a sip of beer. They both stood there looking at each other in thought.
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When life is a horror....Don't look like a ghost!
Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.
The city had grown, implacably, spreading its concrete and alloy fingers wider every day over the dark and feral country. Nothing could stop it. Mountains were stamped flat. Rivers were dammed off or drained or put elsewhere. The marshes were filled. The animals shot from the trees and then the trees cut down. And the big gray machines moved forward, gobbling up the jungle with their iron teeth, chewing it clean of its life and all its living things.Until it was no more. Leveled, smoothed as a highway is smoothed, its centuries choked beneath millions and millions of tons of hardened stone. The birth of a city... It had become the death of a world.
Bill suited the action to the word, getting up and leaning over the handlebars and pumping the pedals at a lunatic rate. Looking at Bill's back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable...they would live forever and ever.
This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.