Newt is alive!!! <3

Newt is alive!!! <3

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, May 2, 2015
Newts POV "Please Tommy please." I said as I grasped that thin thread that separated life from death. As i looked into Thomas's eyes I saw him pull the trigger. Time seemed to slow down and I flinched to,the side at the loud noise of the gun. I felt the impact of the bullet but bot where I had expected it. Instead he felt the sharp piece of metal hit him directly in the eye. Before Newt even had the chance to scream he passed out from the pain. In his daze Newt heard Thomas running away. He tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He wanted to let Thomas know he was alive, but soon he was left alone and in the dark. -time skip- 3 hours later Newt woke up with a splitting headache. Then his eye started stinging and burning like the fires of the underworld we're ablaze right there in his eye. "Thomas" he muttered under his breath. Newt held his hands to his right eye and was horrified at what he felt. His eye was bleeding and wet, as if he was crying but felt no tears. It felt almost as if his eye had been sliced in half. He could touch it and didn't feel it. All he felt was pain. Pain was good, it meant he was alive and human. He had figured out it was a terrible idea to,ask his best friend to kill him. He couldn't do that to Thomas. But now, Thomas thought he was dead and who knows when he would see Thomas sagain, if ever.
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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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