The Man He Was_Exceptionalism through a Kinetic Game of Russian Roulette_«One Cigarette City.»_KINDR
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The Man He Was
The shadow struck, morphing into a large, black figure before it dissipated into two people. One of them was alive, while the other collapsed onto the marble tiles below them. A crimson pool formed at their head, surrounding the body—which had landed face-first—like a halo.Raia stifled a gasp, pressing her fist to her mouth as she peeked through the blinds of her window and into her neighbour’s bedroom. Her heart pounded against her chest as the cowardly part of her mind demanded that she return to bed and slip away into a realm of nothingness before someone caught her. She shouldn’t have bee...
Exceptionalism through a Kinetic Game of Russian Roulette
[Note: this is about the Rise and Fall of a Legendary figure, kind of like a biography of sorts, adapted in the context of the topic of “intuition”. It’s meant as a homage. Parts of it, especially the bits about where “intuition” fits into the scheme of things, are fictionalized and speculative, and since that person cannot speak for themselves on this forum, I certainly cannot say to what degree “intuition” actually played a role in their Rise or Fall. No malice or disrespect is intended.]~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~Approaching his mid-30s, he was at the peak of his career, a well-established legend o...
«One Cigarette City.»
«One Cigarette City.»All you have time to do in this city is smoke one cigarette. Then your eyes will do all the talking for you. The windows here are huge eyes. They are watching you. Even James Fisher, head of the small police department, hides his fears and weaknesses deep in the bottom of his whiskey glass. His gray pupils have many answers to hundreds of questions, and he knows how to breathe with you in tact. How's that? Oooh, it can't be explained. Magnetism, charisma, a subtle hint of nature that his presence throws women in the heat, they unbutton their blouses by themselvewww.onedoor.ccs, the firs...
KINDRED
KINDREDI feel alone. Now that I’m an only child, with a quiet, tired father and a constantly sobbing mother. What’s worse, I can’t speak my heart out, barring a few deep groans to get someone’s attention when I’m upset, scared or angry. But many people can’t articulate themselves during grief anyway, feeling lost, confused and often self-destructive. Yet, they would want a familiar voice to comfort them with cliches like “I’m here for you”, or “it wasn’t your fault”. But in reality, I was deaf to voices and neither did such words ring true in my case. I deserved to be born with this curse, did...