Rhians Story.Peanut Butter and Pumpkin Ice Cream.Rhians Story.
Ron Weasley was in trouble with his wife. He hadn’t yet managed to find the fabled twenty four hour shop where he could purchases peanut butter and pumpkin ice cream, that Hermione was craving. It didn’t sound like a particularly pleasant mixture, Ron thought. However Hermione had gotten herself into such a state insisting that there was such a place that Ron had to accept the futilely of arguing wit her bid a hasty retreat for the door.
So there he was, scouring the land for ice cream at three am in the morning. Pregnancy suited some wom
Is that you, darling?Is that you, darling?Is that you, darling?
Plotting and scheming in the darkest, grimiest corner? No doubt about your visions. My clumsy fall from grace. Tough luck sweetie, I own you. Not to mention the house, the car, the dog, and the children. They’re all mine – nothing you can do. Not that I particularly care for the latter, but your pain is my sugar.
So what’s that you’re writing? Stupid man; in a scathing tone, that would never work in a million years, why? You don’t have the cunning necessary for it. Something else would work though, wouldn’t it? &
The Girl and the Grey Cloud.Once upon a time in land not far from here lived The Girl. The Girl enjoyed a good and carefree life; she was loved by her family and friends. She had her whole future in front of her. She knew what she wanted to do with her life.The Girl and the Grey Cloud.
But that was all prior to the Grey Cloud appearing on the horizon. He started of slowly, creeping up on The Girl; he was the quietest and most patient of hunters as he sneaked. A Grey Cloud who spoke to her in silken tones.
At first The Girl did not recognize that the Grey Cloud was laughing at her. She thought the Grey Cloud was her friend, and sometime
A Disposable.I’ve been in here for years now. The same grey ceiling blankly staring down at me for fifty-eight years, the same grey concrete walls closing in on me. I know every inch off this room, every crack, every engraved name; everything is as familiar to me as my own wrinkled hand. I even know when a new spider moves into one of the corners of my cell. My bed, iron posted and rusting, with a sparse sheet to cover my body when I shiver in the night, is my only furniture. The sounds too, I recognise, the sounds of more than one person sobbing quietly into their arms. The harsh shriek of a frightened soul, “I don’t belong hereA Disposable.
15 minutes.Little girl aged 2315 minutes.
Sits in the corner with an empty glass Eyes transfixed on day-time TV.
Thinks she could make a difference, kiss the sky, if she could make it as a talk-show prodigy She'd learn to fly.
With everyday that drags its fingers on the floor boards Brings her closer to reality, close enough to touch But far too close to see.
Maybe she's just far too careless with her clothing Leaves her knickers on the dance floor And her heart sewed to her sleeve.
And she smells of everything that's right in this world Apple blossom, summer
World Domination!!
I WAS SURE I SAW YOU THIS MORNING!
DID YOU GO HOME?
xxx
--
Team Edward : Cause Werewolves don't Sparkle
"Let's Be Mimes."
I'm not the Girl your Mother warned you about, her Imagination was never this Good.
xxx
--
Team Edward : Cause Werewolves don't Sparkle
"Let's Be Mimes."
I'm not the Girl your Mother warned you about, her Imagination was never this Good.
xxx
--
Team Edward : Cause Werewolves don't Sparkle
"Let's Be Mimes."
I'm not the Girl your Mother warned you about, her Imagination was never this Good.
--
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