Angel with a shotgun...

Angel with a shotgun...

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, May 18, 2014
Ok so you think your normal? Well obviously no, Everyones different, I'm talkin' like, you know Human, mammal, Red dark blood. Yeah, Well I did too, I, (As In me, Myself, the "Human-ish" Person talking here.) Beleived Everything was I Don't know, Normal. Example: Humans were Humans, Frogs were frogs, DOGS!!!!! OH And dogs were JUST. PLAIN. Dogs!(They DON'T come up to you one morning saying "Yo! Gotta' Take A Piss!!! I'm Hungry too!!!! Add That Viagra your dad has, the french poodle next door is back!!!") It's Very complicating to try to explain, I never beleived in Lady luck, Mother Nature, Tooth-fairy, Well they just HAD to show up on my front porch!!! (Say goodbye to your Ego for telling your little brother the tooth-fairy doesn't exist!) Oh AND when you find your house maid and best friends are really unicorns, Oh Lovely~ And the whole catch to it is, no one can tell you, If there "Human-ish". So one day you just hear your dog talk, And you go to school and start doing very weird things... Like flying? Yeah, Confusing, Like having White wings? Yeah, Insane. Like Being told your now an Angel? Yeah, Totally normal... In the world Of magic,from Unicorns to everything you could think of. Lives the world of the Humans, And the people who are well, Not-so-human... Certain people of the chosen are "Turned" Into angels. At the age of 16, the many chosen are guided into the magical world that lives within the everyday life of Earth. Some are given speical powers,( Did you really think the "Dog Whisperer " Was human, Geez, And did you really think the "Genius" who created the Iphone5S Was human?) Some given speical wings, And some are chosen to help the world from falling. But in this story we focus on the love story of Rose Que and Wyatt Chife, Who started as best friends who just happen to share the same birth-day, Go threw to mystery phase from going from normal, To Angels. And on there path do they find there destiny? Or is it so much for happy endings?
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

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