She stared at Raven in a long second of shocked silence, before sagging to the floor.
Oh, trust me Sydney Tar Ponds, you aren__ the first Personification to be forgotten by somebody ordinary,_ Mearth sighed with a falsely-reassuring smile. Alecto stepped back from her, glaring hatefully. __ydney Tar Ponds,_ Mearth added, ____e had so many ordinary people as friends in my life that by now I__e forgotten all their names. At first it was difficult_ very sad_ to see them always leaving, dying, disappearing, ignoring, but after a while I realized that they weren__ worth the trouble. I__ rather be in the company of other Personifications. At least they aren__ always dropping dead like houseflies or sailing away to parts unknown. Nil sa saol seo ach ceo, i ni bheimid beo, ach seal beag gearr. Wouldn__ you agree?___o,_ Alecto told her. __ think you__e insane.
Shadowed Skies: The Third Smog City Novel
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Oh, trust me Sydney Tar Ponds, you aren__ the first Personification to be forgotten by somebody ordinary,_ Mearth sighed with a falsely-reassuring smile. Alecto stepped back from her, glaring hatefully. __ydney Tar Ponds,_ Mearth added, ____e had so many ordinary people as friends in my life that by now I__e forgotten all their names. At first it was difficult_ very sad_ to see them always leaving, dying, disappearing, ignoring, but after a while I realized that they weren__ worth the trouble. I__ rather be in the company of other Personifications. At least they aren__ always dropping dead like houseflies or sailing away to parts unknown. Nil sa saol seo ach ceo, i ni bheimid beo, ach seal beag gearr. Wouldn__ you agree?___o,_ Alecto told her. __ think you__e insane.
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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.
We're not in a fairytale story. This is not a movie. Scriptwriters don't write our fates. We do.
It felt oily inside her head. There were strings of Xavier Stancliff caught inside of her, holding on and spiderwebbing out as he plotted and waited and thought: this is all the bitch deserves. Swallowing, Sandra pushed herself off the bed. It was late and the room was dark. She could see the bundled lump of Jack beneath his own covers. He__ left the television on and the light flickered down the tiny hall. Shadows danced and Sandra shivered as she left the room.In another life, she would have told Danny and Jack about the man. Danny would have whispered, __t__ alright,_ and smoothed back her hair from her face and kissed her, lips dry and coarse on her forehead. Then he and Jack would__e left while she was sleeping. They would__e trampled the flowers and climbed into Xavier Stanliff__ window and when Sandra woke up there would have been one less man in the world.
They say when you meet somebody that looks just like you, you die.
Snape looked horrified. 'You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?''Don't look shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?''Lately, only those whom I could not save', said Snape.