Shipwrecked

Shipwrecked

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jan 26, 2015
A girl crashes on an island. Her plane is a wreck. Her friends are distant. Her fears are growing. And the man is growing bolder. "He took another roiling step forwards. He stopped. His face was covered with a mask of dark obsidian and scraped ivory, tattooed with thin swirls of gold and slashes of mysterious silver. Feathers peeked out the sides to merge with slick black hair, elegantly styled backwards. A sharp jawline was left unhidden for my eyes to consume. And his pianist hands were extending... towards me. He was pointing at me. "Mon cherie. Your hair is a mess. Have you no comb to brush it?"
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She stood upon the rooftop of the Louvre, red hair whipping around her face. She extended the gun in her hand once more. "You want to visit prison??" She was facing a man wearing all black and a mask. You could tell her was grinning. "Oh, so you don't know?" he taunted, laughing as he swung his gun into firing position as well. The girl's stance faltered for a fraction of a second, but the man noticed. "Shoot me, Evie. Let me see your father, after all, I miss my partner in crime. Let me take a visit to prison! "The girl's hair, which had once been pulled back into a ponytail, flipped sideways around her, creating an alarmingly formidable view as the sun rose over the treetops in the distance. The sunrise cast the surrounding area into a golden glow, momentarily blinding the man long enough for the girl to pull the trigger. The following gunshot was deafening to the girl's ears, as she'd experienced so many explosions in the last few hours her hearing was nearly gone. The sun rose completely over the Paris skyline, making the girl's messy red hair resemble thousands of Copper Feathers.

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