The people´s temple_The Breakup_Velvet Runs Deeper Than Blood_Pessimism
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The people´s temple
—Brenda! Are you awake? Please come with me. I want to show you something. —Show me what? — She answered a bit dazed. She did not like being bothered at those hours. —I want to take you to a beautiful place in the jungle. —Do not be silly! We are forbidden to go to the jungle. It is almost midnight now. You better go back to your bed, Walter. You will wake up the other children! —It is forbidden to go to the jungle? It was my understanding that there were no prowww.onedoor.cchibitions in this community. —Of course not. We are all free. However, we must behave in a civilized way, for our own well. —I know t...
The Breakup
Topic: someone relying on strangers The Breakup “I want to break up.” My abusive boyfriend is an alcoholic. He drinks to have “fun”, but his kind of fun is filled with indoor boxing matches. His punches were persistent and often. I needed to get out, and I needed to escape this relationship. “You will never find someone who loves you, I’m the best you can get. I will be with you forever, you will do whatever I want, whenever I want.” “I’m going, you can’t stop me!” I saw it coming, my martial arts training kicked in before I could think. I blocked his hook to my face, but his jab busted my ...
Velvet Runs Deeper Than Blood
Clo had been by Colt’s side her whole life. She was stitched up in the Himalayas from the finest cashmere and red velvet, and was gifted to Colt when he was born. She was large enough that she could be used even when he’d grown into an adult. Colt loved and treasured her, often bragging to his friends - “Hah! What do YOUR rugs have on mine? Clo’s like a dry, fluffy cloud!”. When he grew into a teenager, she was the only one he’d spill his woes of pain and heart-break to. During those cold nights, whenever he would flail about in a restless sleep and kick her off, she would gently wrap up his e...
Pessimism
A whirling whisk of rotor blades stirs the puffy batter of string-shaped clouds, its lifting force, a dragging weight to the metal rotaries that flap a pair of windswept wings. The skies sense a certain groan, unmistakable, in the wavering flight of unsteady airfoils that seem mistakable for unsuspecting onlookers who shall be left unnamed. Directionless, the angles bend at the swipe of a sudden gale, its drafts thieving the helpless craft amid tussling, tossing drafts of flowing current, brash and shaken, rattled and brazen. ㅤ The lonely sea reaches out, demanding that we part with our 3,...