Rose-hued eyes stared back with a glint of contemplation, lips, as thin as the reed swaying in the spring breeze and pale as the winter’s snow were set in a grim line. Slowly, with lean fingers shivering indefinitely, they grasped the small black tube upon the counter, twisted it open then produced a color of red as bright as the blood. Heaving a heavy sigh, she held the tube closer to her lips, drawing a fine color thus concealing its whiteness.
For a moment, she stared at her, noting her pallid cheeks and hence, give several pats on them, which produced a slight shade of pink, consequently coloring them. Quite satisfied with herself, she offered a faint smile, her slender fingers pushing back a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
Soon,
…show more content…
Turning towards the tinted window, I quietly gazed at the fading afternoon light, at the buildings which seemed to blend in colors.
“You are such an idiot, Satsuki…”
Once more, I found myself softly uttering those words, stifling down a chuckle.
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I can’t.” I simply said, blinking away the mist in my eyes. “How am I supposed to tell him that I’m dying?”
Again, I found myself in the veil of silence with the stranger left speechless upon my words.
“I-I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be telling you this, however… however….” Not able to hold on any longer, I soon spilled out these warm tears hence, my hands involuntarily tried to stifle the cries breaking out of my lips.
“I’m too scared to let him know…”
Consequently, I found myself soaked in wet tears, with my unbearable cries filling the stranger’s car compartment.
“H-Here.”
Turning to him, the stranger held out a white kerchief towards me with a somewhat pained expression drawn on his face.
“Thank you…”
Hesitantly, I accepted it to wipe my cheeks of tears.
“Wouldn’t it be lonely if you don’t tell him?”
Asked the stranger, this time with a tender tone clipped in his
3.?Against the dark background of the kitchen she stood up tall and angular, one hand drawing a quilted counterpane to her flat breast, while the other held a lamp. The light on a level with her chin, drew out of the darkness her puckered throat and the projecting wrist of the hand that clutched the quilt, and deepened fantastically the hollows and prominences of her high-boned face under its rings of crimping-pins. To Ethan, s...
I also don't own the idea, it was requested to me by the wonderful Amanda. Thank you so much! I hope I did this idea justice.
Celie believes she has no power or say against her father and the choices he makes for her. Alfonso begins to talk about choosing a husband for Celie because he has grown tired of her and is ready to get rid of her. Alfonso also gets bored with his wife, and starts to gravitate toward his younger daughter Nettie again. Celie offers herself to Alfonso in an attempt to save her sister. Alfonso accepts her offers and has sex with her instead of Nettie, while his new wife is sick. Alfonso uses Celie for sex tries and in an attempt to turn the other girls against her he badmouths her and says that she’s a bad influence. He says Celie "ain 't fresh" (isn 't a virgin) and that she is “spoiled” Alfonso sees women as objects and once they have been
Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a pattern of its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her checks were illuminated by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper.
I'm currently walking along a long and barren road approaching a small forest. Of course, no one would recognize where I am. Of course not I'm obviously somewhere where even I wouldn't recognize, thrown into a place against my own will. I guess I can blame my own hubris for this one. “HEY I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUCKING FUN, don't be a condescending asshole.”
Prologue 2015 – Villa Forenza Senior Apartments Las Vegas, Nevada You would think that a woman surrounded by so much drama in life, wouldn’t go nuts over people knowing she was found catatonic—but you'd be wrong. When ‘Crazy Ava’ learned that the biddies of Villa Forenza had stared right inside of her door as paramedics treated her, she was livid. “You were directly inside the open door, lying on the couch,” Blanche Davis told her. Blanche was a woman who had been in style a century ago.
My left foot was on the ground and my right foot was on the side of a stranger’s car, while I waited for Draven to open his car.
Back in Black Back in black I hit the sack I've been too long I'm glad to be back Yes, I'm let loose From the noose That's kept me hanging about I've been looking at the sky 'Cause it's gettin' me high Forget the hearse 'cause I never die
I remember when I was five years old. It’s already dusk. The sunset scenery was extremely vivid to my mind. My eyes are steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckons the stars. I have watched with a steadfast gaze, as the burning red light sank beneath the horizon, the threads of light dawdled in the sky, blending with the rolling heaps of clouds, the cool breeze of the pristine air pass through my innocent body, dyeing the sky orange, then red, and blue until it becomes entirely dark.
“Look, Avalon…I know something is wrong, why can’t you tell me? “JAKE, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP BUGGING ME!” I yelled as I stormed outside. I couldn’t believe it, I just yelled at my best friend and he did nothing wrong. I sat on the step on the porch, it was old and rotten yet it still managed to look nice.
"He broke up with me after sophomore year. I was alone, friendless and heartbroken. Not to mention this was around the time of my parent's split and everything that went down with Alex." "Alex is your brother right?" " Yeah," I sigh.
The old woman sighed, too. She directed her attention to the poor lsplotchy bird still eating in her purse. “Why are you just sitting there?” she finally asked RED. “Because there is no red for me to change.”
“So what brings you onto the night train?” “Business trip!” I practically yelled, startled. The sound of a human voice sounded all too unfamiliar to me. I regained my composure.
Rose reached out toward that little box she had eyed earlier, and her fingers danced across the upper edge as she debated pulling it out toward her. Mind weighing the upsides and downsides--of which they were few--and as she finally started to tug it toward her, that necklace that loosely hang around her neck began to glow. Immediately, she frowned, and sat up while bringing up one of her hands to cup it in her palm and raise it to she could see. Lips pressed thin, she regarded it silently for a few moments.
When discussing the poetic form of dramatic monologue it is rare that it is not associated with and its usage attributed to the poet Robert Browning. Robert Browning has been considered the master of the dramatic monologue. Although some critics are skeptical of his invention of the form, for dramatic monologue is evidenced in poetry preceding Browning, it is believed that his extensive and varied use of the dramatic monologue has significantly contributed to the form and has had an enormous impact on modern poetry. "The dramatic monologues of Robert Browning represent the most significant use of the form in postromantic poetry" (Preminger and Brogan 799). The dramatic monologue as we understand it today "is a lyric poem in which the speaker addresses a silent listener, revealing himself in the context of a dramatic situation" (Murfin 97). "The character is speaking to an identifiable but silent listener at a dramatic moment in the speaker's life. The circumstances surrounding the conversation, one side which we "hear" as the dramatic monologue, are made by clear implication, and an insight into the character of the speaker may result" (Holman and Harmon 152).