Grim Truth_Last train for the night!_As Children Do_When I Became Death, I Finally Felt Alive
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Grim Truth
It was a world different from the one we live in now, or we might someday come to, where consequences of one’s lies and deceit were measured on the tiny book called Pselmatin that would follow you to till the end of time. The unspoken rule was that when a hundred lies were marked on your Pselmatin, it would complete the creation of a monster from the grim world of Gomorriah who would ultimately find you and eat you whole. Roman was no exception to the rule, but he considered himself too smart to exceed his lies over one hundred. In his youth, his family poorer than his attitude, worked hard to...
Last train for the night!
She opened her eyes slowly and to her surprise she found herself sitting in the corner quietly on a train filled to its capacity of people still struggling trying to enter eagerly. Confused in a corner she looked right around to find some sort of a familiar face to help her get atleast one answer but sadly due everyone else on board hustling with such pace she unfortunately ended up staying in her seat with no new found ease and still so much unanswered questions which kept her far away from finding any peace. Finally the train whistle blew and the doors closed instantly causing all the passen...
As Children Dowww.onedoor.cc
“Ninety-Seven, Ninety-Eight, Ninety-Nine, ONE HUNDRED. Ready or not! HERE I COME!” I spun out of the corner I had smushed my face into. The herringbone parquet flooring glows golden, reflecting the light from the hallway lamps. My Mary-Janes slap against it as I run towards the giant mahogany staircase. I reach the carpet covered stairway and start thundering up them with the abandon of youth and enthusiasm. As I run, the crystal tear drops of the chandelier tinkle as they vibrate and shake from the force of my passage. Mrs McIntosh, the housekeeper always says that me running up the stairs re...
When I Became Death, I Finally Felt Alive
“Please let me die,” I said, staring up at the ceiling with my wrists bound to the hospital gurney. Tears had pooled in my eyes; and my death ended up being as monumental as the word sorry. Apologies were passed around in small groups, ‘sorry’ was given and taken to family and friends, and then like a regret pushed down deep, it was moved away from. My death came and went and my family and former life had to move on too. I had expected no less. “Please let me die!” I had sobbed, uncurled on my bedroom floor, chest heaving and mou...