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Running From This Nightmare 1Snow?
"Hey... It's snowing." She waited for a response from the younger children sitting at their small desks, as they colored or played with child-safe play-dough, laughing and smiling with innocent eyes. Her turned away from the window, knowing that the children had to of heard her, and wondering why there were no cries of joy or squeals of excitement.
She was startled to find that all the children had stopped their coloring or building with the play-dough, and all had their faces covered, quietly, in small whispers, singing. Furrowing her brows, she stepped around her desk and looked at each of them, straining her neck forward to try and catch what they were saying.
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you..." Was all she caught, before all the children's voices started melting together into incomprehensible murmurs. She gave them each wary looks, as she made her way over to the closes table of children near her desk, where three little girls sat, each wearing frilly white dresses that sh
A Nightmare on Elm Street 8-1
Lucy ran through the empty school as fast as she could. Springwood College, she has not gone there long, but she seemed to have it pictured perfectly. From the banners and class arrangements, to the colors on the walls and floors. Now, however, she could not make them out completely. The school was dark and Lucy, in her Pjs. She stopped for a moment, heaving in fear. A tear dripped down her face, who was that man in the hat? She knew his name, but just WHO was he exactly? What did he want from her? Neither did she have the answer to, but the sudden thought of him pushed her body forward. The mans guffaw echoed through the halls, reverberating off of the walls, hitting Lucys body and knocking her flat on her face. Something was pulling Lucy through the hallways and dragged her into a classroom. Lucys face beating red, her screams muted. The force from the laughter picked her up and dropped her onto a desk but before she hit, she found herself waking up already seated.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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