We just arrived at the hottest new club in all of Quebec. The bouncer, a horizontally challenged man, named Tiny took a very quick glance at my "I.D." then at me and then ushered me into the Iceberg Lounge. I was followed by Troy, Zach, Kyle and Jessie. "I can't believe those fake I'D's worked!" I exclaimed to the group. "Shut up, you are going to get all of us thrown out if you're not careful..."Jessie silently shouted. "Quit bickering and just follow me," insisted Troy. Zach nudged me and whispered, "Where are we going?" I quickly replied, "I think that we might be heading towards the bar, but I'm not so sure." "Oh," I heard Zach stammer. Sure enough, we were headed towards the bar. The four of us managed to violently push through the massive crown on the dance floor. We finally had reached the bar. The barstools were glistening like freshly fallen snow, and the counter was so reflective I could use it as a mirror. …show more content…
"Anything, surprise us," Jessie stated. I laid $40 on the mirror-like countertop and pushed it towards the bartender. "keep the change," I insisted. She didn't refuse it, nor would I. Within a few minutes we all had various drinks in front of us just calling our names. Drink, after drink, after drink. They just seemed to keep on coming. After a while vodka joins the party. 10:49 p.m. Everything became a daze. It seemed like after each drink another would just magically
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
The first half of my book “The Cellar” written by Natasha Preston, was so good that I could not put the book down. The girl, at that point, had no memories which include her name and anything before she woke up on a dirty, bloody cabin floor. She looked down at her throbbing hand and found that two of her fingernails were missing.
In the distance, the phone is ringing away , pulling deputy director , Lydia Keller out of her mind and back into the station office. Lydia quickly picks the phone up and presses talk, “Deputy director Keller speaking”, a male voice replies,“ma’am, it's constable stilinski” the officer says " we have an emergency and Detective Deyes requests your presence immediately" Lydia let's out a soft breath, whatever's happened must be bad if she is needed at the scene. “whats happened?” She asked. There's a brief pause before stilinski answers "... we have a triple homicide and it's .. messy" Lydia remains expressionless, there's no place for emotions in a job like this “I'll be there right away” Lydia says, hanging up the phone. Lydia briskly walks
“This is my glorious hour,” he established with great pride, sticking his tongue out trying to catch the raindrops.
I didn’t know what happened, but worse, I didn’t know what was happening. The sounds of footsteps neared my body, but I was too hurt to react.
He remembered someone giving out the drinks earlier that day. He couldn’t remember who or when. And that was his last thought as the final wave of reactions killed him.
It was the night of May 5, 2014, and my wife, Maria, and I were sound asleep in bed. Around 2:00am we were awakened by a loud knocking at our front door and a ringing of the doorbell. We were immediately up and alert, we knew it couldn’t be good. The last time we were awakened this way our son, Remington, had flipped his car just two miles down the road we live on. He was badly shaken but only slightly hurt.
Larry was returning a few calls when two disheveled gentleman step into his office. He recognized one of them from yesterday's visit, so he figures the second larger gentleman was the nephew. "Let me get back to you on that." He says, hanging up the phone.
thought it was excellent. The name of the drink was suggested by Frank Robinson, John's bookkeeper.
From Eddie’s restaurant, site of our scandalous PDA, to my friend Jimmy’s camp was eighteen agonizingly long blocks in the sweltering heat. We had finally arrived at our destination, just as Jimmy opened the door to his camp. As we approached the small gray beach house Jimmy had stepped from the enclosed sunporch onto the freshly painted front stoop and tossed me a cold Budweiser, god bless his soul! The red and white beer can which Jimmy extracted from the cooler only moments ago was icily cold and painful to the touch.
I woke up to the smell of burnt bacon. I quickly jumped up from my bed, threw on my robe and ran down the stairs. I turned the corner, into the kitchen to face a frustrating look upon my fathers face. "Are you okay?
He asked for our tickets and in unison we passed them to him. I will be a sailor. He checked our tickets, nodded a curt nod and let us through. The only light in the room came from onstage and there were only about 20 people in the mosh pit. Surrounding the mosh pit were metal bars.
Raising the Bar No bra, pajamas, and messy hair may describe a person getting out of bed in the morning for most people. Unfortunately, this is the typical attire for a trip to Wal-Mart. After growing a custom to this tradition of being a slob is acceptable, I had a light-bulb moment or epiphany. Even though society keeps condoning the lowering of standards for humanity, it took an eye-opening Wal-Mart trip for me to realize how much we have regressed as a civilization. On a visit to my local Wal-Mart, I noticed the typical, “People of Wal-Mart.” As a young, obese man wearing stained gray sweat pants drove past me, he spilled out of the store’s motor scooter.
MARA HEARD ITS heavy footsteps behind her, closing in on her with each passing second, yet she remained calm. Not a single muscle trembled inside her. Despite knowing the beast was chasing her down like a rabid dog, she was not scared of it—never had been, never will be. Spinning on her heels, she faced the creature, staring into its vibrant red eyes with a look as hard as stone, like she wanted it to attack her, to rip her skin and tear her limbs apart until she was no more than a mess of blood and skin. But there was something else in her dark eyes; a bright flame of confidence.
The usual hustle and bustle of patrons comfort me, maybe I can return to work. As Angelo leads me through the crowd towards the bar, I notice Clyde and Derrick stand in their usual positions behind the bar, serving drinks, while Mary, the barmaid, busies herself collecting empty glasses. Every few steps, Angelo pauses to converse with the regulars, leaving me to my own devices.