katethehuman
What a flirt he was. Although she was immensely flattered by his advances, Arielle found it rather difficult to accept his proposal.
They were at odds with one another. It was entirely Sherlock's fault but he refused to admit even the slightest amount of error on his part. John knew though that it had been he who had burnt the toast. What am I writing?
The cabin was empty.
The door was coming off its hinge. As I lied in bed, staring at the crooked frame, I realized it was a sort of metaphor for my sanity, unhinged slightly. I smiled to myself, if somewhat sadly.
The fences had been broken since junior year. It was rumoured that Billy Hamshaw broke them when making his legendary run from the principal when he set the chem lab on fire. No one bothered to fix the fences out of respect for the great Billy and the day the school caught fire.
The runway was covered with glitter, sparkles still fell from the over head buckets. However, it was completely deserted except for the body centre stage. Everyone had run in terror but the body remained, dusted with the now brilliant red plastic stars.
Bellow the bridge was terror. Bellow the bridge was death. Amy just couldn't bring herself to look down at the now mangled body of her best friend. If only she had been down there to catch her, but that would have killed them both.
I ate some chips today and the crunched with every bite. The sound reminded me of the crunch snow makes under your boots. This thought made me smile. I wish it was winter, my favourite season.