Sta.sh
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Imagine The urge to kill did not fully overtake me until I was twenty-one years old. One morning early in February, when the sky was as cold and grey as the skylines that scraped it with steel fingers, I was paying my mother a visit. She had been taken by Cancer nearly two years earlier and was buried in a cemetery (or "memorial park", as the sign at the gate insisted with irritating optimism) a few blocks away from my apartment. The grass whispered around my sneakers with each step I took. I felt like a trespasser, weaving around grave-markers, mindful of the tell-tale swells in the earth. Such is the effect that cemeteries have on me. It's remarkabImagine by ~Strypes
Never Alone chapter 1 "Brr! The cold really seeps inNever Alone chapter 1 by ~Strypes
through the walls here, doesn't it?"
Amber Perez put down the box she
was carrying and looked around her new apartment. Boston was still very new to
her and she didn't know if she would ever feel entirely at home there, but she
took comfort in the new friend she had made. His name was Xander Jameson, the
son of Amber's new landlady; he was a slender, young man with light brown skin
and thick brown hair that he couldn't seem to control. He had been helping
Amber move in all day and the apartment was finally starting to look like a
home.
Dropping the box of books he had
been carrying on a nearby chair,
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| "People of Earth, your attention please...." I am Meg (often spelled "MAEHG!")and my gallery if full of unspeakable abominations. Why don't you give them all a look? My stories are especially sickening...  |
Attraction ) So, hopefully you'll be seeing from me again soon. 
