Historias de Fringes

it's just a poem I wrote right after I had my breakup

Life always has those little quirks. Fate always goes against you. Love never comes according to plan. Mackenzie Ryder is scarred. She can’t recognize herself. She can’t recognize her parents. She can’t even recognize her boyfriend. Following a horrific incident that leaves her with a rare mental condition, she and her family move to the sleepy town of Westonshire to start over. But how do you start over if you can’t even find a place to start? Alistair Beaufort is lost. Caught in a downward spiral of a growing alcohol addiction, parties, violence and depression, he’s…stuck. Life can’t get any shittier when his mom decides to send him off to therapy to put him back together to the person he was before. Yeah, right. That’s impossible…isn’t it? Now throw in a chance run-in. Awkward voicemail messages. Amateur therapy sessions. Singing lessons for the hopelessly untalented. A theater production of Guys and Dolls headed for disaster. And a hell of a lot of fighting. And see where it will take these two…

Brandon doesn't talk much Dan and Phil talk for a career Brandon doesn't have much support Dan and Phil want to change that

This book is an attempt to "touch" the pillars of Western civilization, which are habitually ignored, forgotten, or willfully denied. Often the truth is found when our fundamental values are taken to the real test. And often enough it happens on the fringes of Christian civilization, where the fight to defend these values is the fiercest.

A trimmed strand of hair can never be brought back to its original length instantly. Her scissors yapped like a shark as she repeatedly snapped it open and close. She then laid her eyes on the mirror, which was bearing her reflection. Cold warmth was beginning to envelope her, but she heaved a deep sigh to calm herself. Then, she brought her head closer to her mirror. Excited yet uncertain, she began the procedure of cutting her fringes, strictly keeping in mind the instructions dictated by her source online blog. Shortly, the blades of her scissors reached the last strand to cut, and so she placed the instrument back to her table. She closed her eyes as the remaining newly cut strands fell down. Fright, nervousness, and excitement quickly wrapped her chest, and the thumping inside it intensified. She bit her lower lip and clenched her fists, and after heaving another sigh, gradually lifted her eyelids. "Oh. My. Gosh ..." For minutes, she just kept staring at her new bangs in silence, admiring how perfect it turned out. Its tips landed beautifully just below her eyebrows, the ideal length for it. It was not cut in a straight horizontal, but rather in a smooth convex, shaping her face into a smaller oval instead of harshly squaring it. The numbers of strands were also not too much, leaving a faint peek on her forehead. She gave herself a pat on the shoulder for doing a great job on following the instructions properly. Indeed, everything will certainly be fine as long as rules are followed. "I hope he'll like it . . ."