About 6 results
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Be the Catalyst!
"I am going to be the greatest magician in the country!" he proudly proclaimed when he joined the Royal Academy of Magic. But now, more than ten years later, underpaid and overworked as a government employee at the Bureau of Magical Affairs, stationed in a town at the outskirts of the country and almost 30, he has nothing to show for it. And to top it all off, he’s had to deal with his annoying (ex)upperclassman refusing to stop pestering him. One day, while sitting at his cubicle, said senior walked up to him… Upperclassman: Are you a vending machine? Because you look like a snack Him: “…” Was he… trying to flirt with him...?! Upperclassman: Aside from being sexy what do you do for a living? Him: ??? Upperclassman: Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date? Him: !!!
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His betrothed (Raisin)
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THE GIRL AND THE GHOST
THE GHOST KNEW his master was about to die, and he wasn’t exactly unhappy about it. He knew that sounded bad. You’d think, after all those years together, that even he might have felt a twinge of sadness about the whole situation. But it’s hard to feel sorry for someone when: a) you’re a ghost, and everyone knows ghosts don’t have hearts, and b) that someone made her living out of forcing you to make other people miserable. He stared at her now as she lay on the narrow bed, gray and gaunt in the light of the full moon, her breath rasping and shallow. Watching her teeter slowly toward the end was a bit like watching a grape slowly become a raisin: the years had sucked the life and vitality out of her until she was nothing but a wrinkled shell of her former self. “Well,” she wheezed, squinting at him. Well, he said. “One more for the road, eh?” she said, nodding to the full moon out the window. And she grimaced as she offered him the ring finger of her right hand, as she had done so many times before. The ghost nodded. It seemed frivolous, but after all, he still needed to eat, whether or not his master lay dying. As he bent his head over the wrinkled hand, his sharp little teeth pricking the skin worn and calloused from time and use, the witch let out a sharp breath. Her blood used to be rich and strong and so thick with her magic that the ghost could get himself drunk on it, if he wasn’t careful. Now all he tasted was the stale tang of age, the sour notesthat came with impending death, and a bitter aftertaste he couldn’t quite place. Regret, perhaps. It was the regret that was hardest to swallow. The ghost drank nothing more than he had to, finishing quickly and sealing the tiny pinpricks of his teeth on her skin with spit. It is done, he told her, the words familiar as a favorite song, the ritual as comforting as a warm blanket. And I am bound to you, until the end. The witch patted his horned head gently. Her touch surprised him —she had never been particularly affectionate. “Well,” she said, her voice nothing more than a sigh. “The end is now.” And she turned her head to the window, where the sun was just rising over the cusp of the world, and died.
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Why raisins suck
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Drowned hearts
"Your so ugly that I can't even look at you for three seconds without visibly cringing, I mean look a that, is that a piece of paper on your chest or what?, raisins?" The entire cafeteria erupted in laughter as she shrunk back fighting the already falling tears staring hard at the floor silently begging the ground to open and swallow her whole. And if she had her way, she wouldn't bother coming back out. "I suggest you just die and do the whole world a favour, no one cares about you anyways" he said with a scoff. Ms blonde bitch clinging so tight to his arm that anyone who saw her fingers would know that they would leave marks. I ran. I ran and ran and ran until I reached a bridge. Staring down at the deep and the endless blue darkness of beneath. Without a second thought, I jumped Falling... It felt like forever till I was engulfed by the wet mass that I was once above. Resisting from struggling, the sharp pierces of water in the wrong parts of my body stung. In all this there was silence.. Peace perhaps? I realized that was what I wanted Feeling something surround my waist, I blacked out into nothingness My last thought being...death? _________________________________________ Both come from places they don't take pride in but when their paths crosses but for yet the second time only the tides will tell. Avery and Ashton play a silent game of who falls for whom first into the air less waters of what they call love.
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A old women
Once upon a time, there were a little old woman  and a little old man  who lived in a little cottage  near the river . The little old woman  and the little old man  were hungry, so the little old woman  decided to bake a gingerbread man .She made a big batch of gingerbread dough, then rolled it flat and cut it in the shape of a gingerbread man . She gave him raisins for eyes , a cinnamon drop for a mouth , and chocolate chips for buttons . Then she put the gingerbread man  in the oven  to bake.When the gingerbread man  was done, the little old woman  opened the oven  door, but before she could take him out, the gingerbread man  jumped up and ran through the kitchen  and out of the cottage  shouting, "Don't eat me!"
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