The Storm Has Just Begun_Under Star Promises_THE GENIE_Touch of Death
Catalog Guide:
The Storm Has Just Begun
Drip. Drip. Drip.You scowl with annoyance as the raindrops hit your bare neck. Sunny, my ass, you think, and not for the first time either. You then sigh and decide to pay them no mind, though, and go back to observing the woman through the window. She’s doing nothing. All she’s doing is sitting there on her blue sofa with gray polka dots. It’s an ugly thing, you think. How can she stand it?She pulls out her phone and starts tapping repeatedly on it, probably playing some game. Seconds later, a bored expression crosses her otherwise emotionless face, and she puts the phone down with an exaspe...
Under Star Promises
“I leave tomorrow,” I said to Danila, looking straight at the stars. There was an emptiness in my chest as the words left my lips. The night was cool and the breeze brought by the ocean water made me shiver and look at the thin fabric of my jacket.He began to take off his coat, but I shook my head. I wrapped my arms around him, between his shirt and his coat. He hugged me in return, pressing me to his chest. I closed my eyes and inhaled, a warm woodsy smell clinging to his skin. I wanted to cry. This was the only person that I have ever known. This is the only person I want to know. I didn’t w...
THE GENIE
It was a time of peace and harmony among neighbors, amongst different races and countries. It was in this time that David Cooper was born. Just as the children of his age, he had encountered superhero movies and television series and had quite a lot of favorites. Superheroes had such an impact on David that he wished to have a super power of his own and savwww.onedoor.cce the damsel in distress. Fast forwarding a few years, when David turned ten, his world was about to change drastically. On the day of his birthday, like any normal family they were going on a picnic to a superhero park. It was rumored that...
Touch of Death
Her soft brown eyes searched mine as I looked down and saw the newborn writhing in her cot. She wasn’t kept with the other babies, she was isolated. Hidden away from prying eyes and wandering hands. Nothing but the rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitors to lull her to sleep. She didn’t cry when she saw me, she remembered me. Though I knew who she was I couldn’t place her sweet innocence. As if I was staring into a mirror, not recognising the reflection. Nothing can be compared to the softness of a baby’s skin, yet there was no comfort in the poison of hers.I was born a murderer. My mother d...