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You're always wanted A Hunter Hayes fan fic Pro-1Prologue– another Moment in life
I was just an everyday girl but why would he pick me. I was nothing special as far as I could see. I wasn’t that pretty I thought that one day in life. I am not the coolest; I would think that I would rank myself to everyone else. I am not famous, not popular, not pretty, not cool and not special. But why would he pick me. As far as I could tell he knew I never had a boyfriend. But why was I so special with him? Why was every time he came around me it was special and magically? I am wanted? I am wanted. I would be smiling at this moment if he wasn’t leaving me for a tour. I guess it would be the rainy season as he would call it. Because all this was a moment in my life I could never ever forget. I was wanted by him the guy named Hunter Hayes wanted me. Hunter Hayes wanted me. I wanted him for so long I was just too blind to see I was wanted all this time.
A horses ViewA horse’s view
Down this long path we walk on, lie’s a meadow of love and joy
Please let me die there.
My life is over and gone.
Please remember the times of,
Shows and trail rides,
With you and me together
With you on my back and the smiles on our faces
Please remember me like an old picture. The tears you cry are for me
but please remember me
Every time you ride, please smile and don’t cry, I love you for saving me, I thank you.
Please don’t forget our life as one.
Reality is a lovely place.Down a street. Two cats lived down the street they were the bested friends. "Hi Rose!" A brown tabby cat walked down along the fence. "Hi Reed!" Rose the strawberry cat, meowed. Rose jumped the fence where Reed was. "So what's up with the house folk?" Rose asked. Oh Rose if only you knew how much I want to leave to the forest. Reed though. "Reed?" Rose asked As Reed was look out to the forest. "I would love to leave." Reed sadly. "Oh but where would you go?" Rose asked. "To the forest!" Reed smiled at her. "Really? Don't you know what's in there?" Rose said surprised. "Rose will you come with me?" Reed asked. "Yes of course but I don't want to leave my owners." Rose said looking at Reed. "Rose I love you and if you don't care about me I'll leave by myself." Reed jumped off the fence to the forest. Rose looked surprised. "You love me?" Rose jumpe
The photos THE END
"Well boys how's it going?" The hosted asked "Good!" We all smiled. "So What`s it like to be in Montana?" He asked "Fine!" Liam smiled. "So Whos single?" He asked Liam and Niall raised their hands. "Wow just you two!" He said. "So Zayn How`s your Girlfriend." He asked me. "She`s fine." I smiled. "And Louis?" He asked "Fine as well." Louis said. "Oh and Harry?" He asked "Great." He smiled. "So It`s must be hard not seeing your girlfriends." He smiled as he asked. "Yes it is." Louis said. "So where are your girlfriends?" He asked. "Mine is in The UK and so Is Zayn`s." Louis said again. "Zayn is this you're Girlfriend?" He was holding a picture of Katie! "Mmm...?" I said. "Yeah!" Harry said happily. We all started to look at him. "She greatly a head of the curve." He asked "She must be something in the UK." he laughed. "Okay any ways. Louis is this your girlfriend?" He asked "Yeah!" Harry said again. As I saw he was holding
The Photos ch. 1
I guess I would be a lone for the summer. I was Thinking as I rolled out of Bed. Sarah had broken up Niall and Moved to Texas for the rest of her life. Taylor and I moved in together and moved closer to our school. One Direction was going around the world. Taylor left to see her aunt for the whole summer. Her dad and my mum were on a honey moon in Mexico. So truly I was a lone for the whole summer. "Rrrrr... I guess I am going to go down to the coffee shop." I rolled out of Bed and grabbed some jeans and a tank and my sweet Zayn`s Jacket. I started to run out of the house. To get a coffee
I and my mom had just moved to London England over the summer. Me and my Mom where at the coffee shop. I started to wonder if I would see One Direction or Zayn`s Girlfriend or even Louis`s girlfriend. I was a big fan of One Direction, even If I can date them, I was almost Zayn`s girlfriend`s age, but just a little under
Please love me chapter 8 1 Hour later.
"Okay, let`s do a Selena Gomez song." I put in. "Stop and erase!" Taylor put in. “1, 2, 3!" My brother cried. "You think you know me so well. You put me down it builds you up. You’re kicking me around, You just can`t get enough!" Taylor and I sing out.
2 hours later.
"Okay I think we are done now!" Taylor said. "Oh I got a Text from Zayn!" I smiled.
Zayn: Hi babe. Are you at home?
Me: No babe. We were practicing in our band. We are at Taytay`s house.
Zayn: Oh! Sorry I didn`t know!
Me: No no! We are done.
Zayn: Oh okay. Liam is calling me.
Me: No. I want to see you.
Zayn: I have too. Yes I want to see you to
His EyesIt has been three months since we heard from the mainland.
Speculation abounds. Some catastrophe has befallen them there; a plague has ended them, or a war, or perhaps something so dreadful that we cannot even imagine it. We are left here to starve, slowly, as we wait for news and supplies.
This morning we saw a boat on the horizon. Through the spyglass we saw that its occupant is a lone boy, and that his skin is patterned with lesions. Sula saw something in his eyes, he said, though he did not say what it was; but he was so shaken by the sight that he begged us to shoot the boat down before it reaches us.
We have no choice but to obey. We may pity the boy, but if he carries a plague a show of mercy might doom us. We will fire the cannon as soon as he comes within range.
We burned the flotsam brought in by the tide. There is no sign of the boy's body. With luck the current carried it away.
Sula woke with fever today. He sweats in rivers, and he will not open his eyes. He begged f
FFM 25: The Delivery BirdMom pressed her feet into the stirrups with all of her might, tears of joy and agony streaming down her face. The last push was the hardest, working out the shoulders and wings that followed the long, slender neck. After that, the rest of the stork slid out easily.
Mom and dad wrapped their arms around one another and looked upon it with a combination of euphoria and crippling exhaustion, eagerly waiting to see what the white sack in his beak held. But the messenger only looked back sympathetically, bowing its head in a solemn apology.
The pouch was empty.
Do You See What I SeeRed.
It starts with a simple color. A simple color that results in the end of everything that was. Everything that would be. A simple color that destroyed the futures of so many. Who would have thought the world could be ended by the simplest of colors in the eyes of one girl.
She jumps from broken rooftop to broken rooftop. She glances back every other second. She pants and sprints, her auburn hair flying behind her in the wind. She has been running for only a couple of minutes, but the jumping has taken a toll on her body.
She looks up to the sky, the sun had been gone for years now. Darkness and plague raved the world. This was her fault. She tries not to think about it as she runs for her life. Haunting memories of what she did. She can still hear the screams of people whose lives she took. She begins to cry, each tear is hot and heavy of her face. She begins to stop, slowing with
In the Valley of the DevilsThis is how we prepare for winter in werewolf country: by lighting all the torches on the ramparts around the encampment, because werewolves fear fire, and so that we can see them when they come skulking in the dead of night. Sometimes, beneath the flames, we see the werewolves in our midst, the ones standing beside us. This makes the winter longer, and darker.
This is how we prepare for winter in the forest outside the camp: by catching rabbits and deer and possum, and roasting them on spits on our little fires, which we keep small so that the village will not see the smoke. If they locate us, they will come with guns and silver shrapnel, and tear us to bloody bits.
By first frost, we have finished digging the ditch around us. It is filled with blades pointing up, and hemlock and mistletoe, which the werewolves avoid as a vampire avoids garlic. We toss in the cut branches, and also some parts of their brethren, a skull or tooth, or a hand, which was once a paw
Rising Like SmokeRising Like Smoke
Darkness rose from seemingly nowhere like smoke
From the junction of the backstreet and Darkwood Road in municipal Arkham, Massachusetts, where most residents believed to be uninhibited, the darkness suddenly and mysteriously rose like a heavy blanket of smoke from an enormous bonfire. In fact, there was neither fire nor smoke; but someone or something was summoning the darkness. To be exact, the residents were too scared to investigate the junction, fearing very dark evil. There was a rumor that someone was reading from the black book.
"I swear to ya, someone has got that black book "Necronomicon"."
"You may be right. Darkness don't rise like smoke from anywhere."
They were both right, actually. Someone hid in the backstreet and recited something from Necronomicon to create that darkness. That happened at 5 pm, hours before real darkness fell. Eventually, when real darkness came, it mingled with the spell. Everyone in that side of the town locked door and
Last MealLawrence Russel Brewer was a Texan white supremacist who, along with three of his friends, was tried and convicted for the 1998 murder of African-American James Byrd, Jr. and sentenced to death row. On September 21st, 2011, Brewer was executed by lethal injection. He expressed no remorse for his crime, and stated he would do it all over again if he could. Make no mistake, this man was a monster in virtually every sense of the word. In all likelihood, he deserved to die, and his death was probably too quick and painless to be honest. However, that isn't the point of this little story you're reading.
The point, rather, has to do with Brewer's last meal request...
Shortly before his execution, Lawrence Russel Brewer was given a choice of what his last meal would be, as is customary in many US prison systems when executing inmates. Brewer's last meal request was a veritable feast: Two chicken fried steaks smothered in gravy with sliced onions, a triple meat bacon cheeseburger with fixings
Morning RitualIt was a known fact of life that Arnold could not function without his morning coffee. Thankfully, he had married a woman who made an amazing brew. Jessica was amazing, and Arnold knew that a shlub like him didn’t deserve an angel like her. He made sure she felt duly appreciated, too—after her coffee elevated him above his zombie state.
The weekend had come and gone, and once again Monday was making its forceful presence known. Not that he had to go in to work today… instead, he would have to attend his mother’s funeral. Not that he was grieving. In fact, it was going to be all he could do not to dance on the woman’s grave once the last scoopful of Earth was atop her. Six feet was not enough. She had always tried to control his life. And she had downright hated Jessica. Perversely, as horrible as she had been, she had also always insisted she was a good mother even to her last breath. No one in the family missed her.
Arnold navigated his house my memory, n
The Mirror BladeThe mirror was smooth and cold to the touch as she ran her fingers across it. They didn't leave a mark - not a whisper of fingerprints trailing a pale grey line. It shouldn't be there; there was no record of a mirror being brought in, but here it was, completely out of place and completely intriguing. She pulled her hand away and stepped back. The mirror was huge, standing at least six foot tall and surrounded by silver gilding that formed twisted celtic patterns and drew the faces of children and faeries.
Liz looked around as the soft sound of music drifted towards her ears. The doors were shut and she was the only one in the room. She swivelled back towards the mirror as the sound grew louder: It was coming from beyond the glass.
"What?" she whispered to herself as she took a step closer to the glass.
The music grew louder and she could pick out voices amongst the melody. She couldn't understand the voices but they were clear and pure, singing high and bright but muffled through the
Of things within: AddendumTo those who will venture into the future that is even beyond our own, may good luck accompany you. For even then we will not know what will await us, in the dark recesses of reality our eyes have not yet peered into, but will soon.
Indeed, what will? What, that has not yet been seen, but will have been, between now, and then? What, that has not yet been seen, and will then, for the first time?
What will you take with you, which we dream of, today? What will you take with you, that even our greatest minds have not dared to envision?
What will you expect, in the uncertainty that you will enter? Or will you expect nothing, and venture out with childlike wonder and open-mindedness?
What will you encounter, out there?
Movement, just past the corner of our perception, or a wet, soft coil that will slither down your neck from above?
You will have seen something flicker, you will be sure of it.
You will have smelled something flicker, and of that, too, you will be sure. But you will not know
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
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