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Strike Hour: Chapter 2 Chapter 2 The Boy He woke to pain. Qireis curtile, he thought miserably. What a fucking surprise.He wished he had an alarm clock, like hed seen on the few occasions hed been above ground. He wished he could just roll over, smack the cause of his wakefulness and shut it up, so he could numb himself in sleep again. But no.He lifted his head, a tremendous effort for his state, wincing at the pain that shot down his spine. Still alive, a voice said somewhere above him. What a pity. Fuck you, he managed, in a voice that sounded like gravel being scraped across a cheese grater, if that strong.There was a laugh. Feisty. He forced his eyes open halfway and saw black combat boots. There was a scuff on the toe of the left boot. Probably from
Strike Hour: Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Sarah Eighty-one
She fell back to the floor, uncrossing her arms from her chest, breathing hard, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as she caught her breath after her second set of crunches. Her skin was slightly glossy with a thin sheen of sweat; the workout itself wasnt particularly intense for her, but the humid heat of the summer night was keeping her from cooling off. Locked up in this damned bedroom, she had nothing else to do. She could get out, if she wanted; shed rigged the lock a long time ago so that she could simply slip a bobby pin through between the door and the jamb and open the door. But shed let the people that passed for her foster parents have their satisfaction for now. They simply didnt have the time or patience to deal with her so they said, in reality, they were only busy wi
WTFWhat the hell is wrong with me?I never thought you'd go the way of the othersOr rather, that I would treat you as such...That I'd risk discovery and further tormentJust to hide with you for a whileAnd then I'd turn and runI don't know if I'm afraidOr what it is about meYou gave me a second chance. I fucked it up.Every night I've cried myself to sleep, not often...But every time wanting your touch and your protectionAnd now, faced with that, I fuck it up.Why?I'd say I wanted you backBut for what? For me to hurt you again?!And now it's another one of those nightsWishing I wasn't aloneBut guilty now, because I know I'd probably run.I'm wasting pain and almost tears on something I can fixAnd therefore shouldn't lament - but can I really fix it?I won't let myself cry for thisI've got no one to blame but myself.And now I'm lost in my old melodramas againWriting like echoes, without effectAnd hating myself, but immune to the painAlmost...And now it's another one of t
THINGEHAn eagle flown from burning nest,Into a raging unknown stormIn search of calm and clear horizonsTo warm her wings beneath seven suns.A dark horse runs in a pitch-dark night,Unbridled, fearing naught yet runningRunning from shadows within itselfRunning from darkness that plagues its noble headRunning from loneliness on a cold winters nightRunning for love to finish the fight.Fire and ice, a clashing of forcesTo love to hate, to hate to loveA legend without a name,A name without a legendTo join or to fight?To love or to hate?To fear or to trust?To think is to die.Innocence shattered and malevolence unpunishedSpurs the anger of an unsuspected friendOutward young, inward ageless,In vigilant sleep until her birthWaiting for a subtle queenTo defend, her knight, her confidant.Left to die in corrupting lonelinessWith strength to survive, but only justHanging on to loves lost hopeWaiting for saving grace to rescue darkness.A shadow captured is a Phantom t