..."Did my job pretty well"
  • Reads 13
  • Votes 2
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
  • Reads 13
  • Votes 2
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Jan 20, 2016
Think about that time when you read a book and cried because your favorite character died. You (Myself included) get angry. Personally I yell at the picture of the author in the back of the book. But what you don't realize is that the authors are sad too. This is a short story about how I feel sometimes when I have to hurt or kill a character.
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The experiment. by shrosz
18 parts Complete Mature
They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.
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From The Heart

176 parts Complete

Do you know the times when you want to say something, but can't? Or the times when you are sad and need someone to give you a hug? The times your worst enemy hugs your boyfriend? Or the times you are so angry you punch a locker and have to pay to get it repaired? Well with writing my thoughts, passions, anger triggers, enemies, love, hatred, even happiness out for people. Makes me feel like someone can relate to me and I can impact them in any simple or complex way they deem fit. I write because I can and I become free with every word written from my mind, every letter and messed up grammar I have accidentally committed to butchering every time I write. I may not make a difference, heck, I may not even have a lot of people who read but those who do read when I write about how I thought up a story plot or something for my best friend, they will always make me feel like I'm making the difference because someone actually read what I thought at a certain time and day and maybe even listened. That's what makes me feel wanted and happy like I can do something other than run my stubborn mouth and have a mother hen personality. That is what will continue as I write. fortunately, the thing is no one can take it away either, and that my readers are what makes the mind a great thing.