young_choose_life

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryLove young_choose_life011 years 9 months ago
StoryPositivity young_choose_life011 years 9 months ago
StoryTime young_choose_life011 years 9 months ago
StorySmile young_choose_life111 years 9 months ago
StoryOpen Your Eyes young_choose_life011 years 9 months ago
StoryInspiration young_choose_life211 years 9 months ago
StoryInvisible young_choose_life011 years 9 months ago
StoryIt started with a go-kart young_choose_life011 years 9 months ago
StoryGuilt young_choose_life411 years 9 months ago
StoryHope young_choose_life111 years 9 months ago
StoryFinal Moments young_choose_life111 years 9 months ago
StoryDoctor Death young_choose_life111 years 9 months ago
StoryFireworks young_choose_life111 years 9 months ago
StoryDexter young_choose_life111 years 9 months ago
StoryFear young_choose_life111 years 9 months ago
StoryEyes young_choose_life011 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Quiet young_choose_life212 years 1 day ago
StorySecrets behindblueyes512 years 6 days ago
StoryThe city young_choose_life212 years 3 months ago
StoryDon't Go Wolverain212 years 3 months ago
StoryAbigail Jessiibear1912 years 4 months ago
StoryCURTAIN CALL moonphish1112 years 5 months ago
StoryTwo-face young_choose_life212 years 8 months ago
StoryThe Protector young_choose_life312 years 10 months ago
StoryEnough young_choose_life214 years 5 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Final Moments

I exhaled. Time slowed, all of the pain and suffering left in the breath slowly, dragging it out of me as a painful reminder of where I was. I received a moment of peace and then the pain came back.

The Protector

A pen dropped. This pulled me from my staring point sharply and back into the dull, grey room I was sitting in. Dull was an understatement: just a bit of colour would lighten it up.

Two-face

Anger flows through the lines in his face, All of his soldiers keeping to his pace, He spots a child looking up at him, He draws his pistol, And the slaughtering begins.

Conflicting views

I’d like to bury you, deep within the ground. No air to breathe. No sky to ever see. You deserve a knife to your throat, no blood left in your veins. Drowned. Sick of your sight.

The Sand-Man

Sand moves, making its way, falling with grace, building and ebbing, til it makes a face. Risen, strong, arms and legs rise, then collapse. Sand builds again, forms a chest.

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