disintegration. Flying apart into a million psychic pieces did not do a witch’s mind good.
Sunlight was simply unpleasant. It yanked her from the womb as a fetus bobbing in cold bathtub water. Memories inscribed themselves into the body as well as the mind, and she trembled, muscles tightening, ten- dons and bones aching. She rubbed her legs and arms, face and neck, until her skin heated and relief set in.
As a woman, she suffered for days and nights after exposure to the light of the sun. Headaches, migraines, throbbing lights, voices, voices of men, fingers, hands, and bodies writhing, terrible things being done. She’d suffered in the light, so in the dark, her domain, she was the one who inflicted suffering. It was pleasant.
She smiled and stretched out like a black alley cat on crumbling brick wall. Lingering in bed, she inhaled the haunting smell of sulphur that lingered after her nightly sojourns.
Images of Sam Shear, the man who can because I love him so, brought swells of desire. Underworld excursions engorged passion. Many a time they lay together but not as man and woman. Sam the Man nestled into Sweet Mary as a child to a mother. He spoke of matters trivial to her yet to him, weighty and worrisome. She eased his mind, and then inserted herself into his mental nether regions. Instructions were given
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Waves of gurgling and quicksand were no metaphor. Agitation could turn bad to worse. Eve clutched harder for a stable mind. It was a torment, nearly impossible not to panic. She gritted her teeth, tightened her mental hold. Gently, millime- ter by millimeter, she managed to raise her right hand. Mud offered no resistance. She raised her right forearm out of the hungry maw of dirt and grit. She grabbed hold of a desert oak’s dropping branch. It held firm. Five fingers clutched like a vise. She lifted her left arm and hand. Inch by inch, she loosened her torso from the deadly mud. Low-lying olive tree branches gave steadier
All these words, worming their way through to his brain. Writhing in his thoughts. Screaming out at him, lashing him with their venomous burdens. Each word causing him to sink further into the darkness. He cursed at them, cried out at them.
He laced his right arm around her midsection, reached down, and pulled her legs across his lap. William expected her to recoil. He was pleasantly surprised when she went limp in his grasp. He pushed her forward towards the edge of the
A single sword-stroke had pierced the breast. The fallen bamboo-blades around it were stained with bloody bosoms. No, the blood was no longer running. The wound had dried up, I believe. And also, a gadfly was stuck fast there, hardly noticing my footsteps.”
"God gave up on the Earth long ago," the priest proclaimed to Betzabeth as they sat next to each other in a pew. News reports had confirmed the reptilian invaders had landed that frigid Christmas morning with the intent to stay; they no longer wanted to negotiate, instead they declared war. Although the swelling had gone down and her vision was no longer blurry, the excruciating pain she felt in her ribs was a reminder of the fisticuffs from earlier. Escaping her apartment building had been an agonizing, bloody and chaotic journey.
Prologue In the Far Far Future of 2250 humanity was safe, the Goauld extinct, Ori dead and their followers back in their own galaxy, Replicators wiped out and the Wraith defeated. The rest of humanity’s enemies were long gone and man was in the golden age of space exploration and colonies. Humanity was now spread throughout the Milky Way Galaxy, the Pegasus Galaxy and the Ida Galaxy with new planets being colonised on a nearly daily basis, The Empire of Man was truly living in a blessed time. Chapter One Most would consider living in such blessed time a good thing but not all, some considered it boring, one of these people was Lazarus.
In addition, the author describes her hangovers as one the most terrible experiences. Besides, I guess she was right. It is hard to believe that someone wants to feel ““the eye of a dark hurricane spinning in the
Why? Why was I cursed to live this life of rage and pain? Why did our ancestor cause us to be cursed with generations of life-liquid thirsty pain and rage filled lives? Why does one man’s actions define a generation to follow? We weren’t even given a chance to be different from him.
I woke up in a dark room with a massive headache that beat like a drum. I slowly got up and tried to remember what happened. I remember a huge storm that ravaged the west coast, then a space-ship came down and started to abduct people. “Oh no, I have been abducted!” I screamed to myself.
Down a long, empty corridor, the clopping of armored hooves reverberated off the cold stone walls. The heatless flames that clung to the withered wood of the torches dimly painted all that was near them a ghastly shade of blue as they radiated their perpetual light, illuminating the path. The atmosphere grew more and more claustrophobic with each step, the darkness seeming to wrap around the pony’s throat in an attempt to strangle the life out of her. This continued for what could have been a few minutes or possibly even hours or days, the hall was so long.
The wind would soothe her nerves. Though almost every night she saw the man. It got to the point that she would take different routes. But always, she saw him. Standing in the moonlight with a snarl on his face.
Her fingers were slightly curved in, as though her fingers were in her hair. It look as though, she was slightly crunched up. Behind her ankle, on the third step, there was a blood print, which I suggest came from her shoes. Her lower body was tilted along the steps. Her face was facing the south direction.
I dug my nails into unknown faces. I was biting my way through, searching for air. No one cried out… ‘Are you alright, Juliek?’... ‘All right…All right…Not too much air… Tired…
Like a big gust of wind shook her branches and leaves. It swayed her point where she decided to take
Without answers and clarity, Jeongdae is restless, and unable to rest. “If [Jeongdae] could sleep, truly sleep,” he would “not” have to experience “this flickering haze of wakefulness” (Kang 56). Jeongdae is “not” able to “sleep,” or rest, without clarity. Because of this, Jeongdae is experiencing a “flickering haze,” which connotes confusion and disarray. Jeongdae questions what was “sparking [the] pain” that he felt, highlighting to the reader that Jeongdae is confused and unable to understand the emotions that are causing him so much pain (Kang 53).
The cheap cotton sheet tangled around his legs and dropped off the gurney onto the cement floor. He moaned and started to fall into unconsciousness when he felt the needle being jabbed into his arm. The darkness he was forced to suffer through had varying degrees to it. There were times when everything around him was so dark that he could not detect even a shadow of movement, but free from pain.