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.
I hadn__ understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy,why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why.Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my pastwas my life.
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I hadn__ understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy,why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why.Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my pastwas my life.
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When life is a horror....Don't look like a ghost!
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.
Succumbing finally, she lets out a loud shriek as her vehicle stops at a red light. __uck._ She hollers cursing the night. Cursing the shadows, cursing the unknown condemned she intends to meet this evening. Tears roll down her cheeks landing on her bullet proof vest.
Blame is the creed of the disempowered.