Subway Surfers(on hold)
- Reads 369
- Votes 6
- Parts 2
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Creekside
I could remember there was always liquor or beer, coke in the plastic, dope in the rice though, and weed in the dutches; some may have crack inside, so keep your lips off people's stuff. Growing up in the projects, you learn to keep your mouth shut and never to say what you saw in the hood. My mother got pregnant by my father when my grandmother was at work, thinking her boyfriend was watching her teenage daughter. My father raped my mother before leaving the house forever, only for my mother to be covered in blood on the bed for hours. She was too shocked to move and too young to understand what had happened to her. My mother got pregnant at fourteen, gave birth at fifteen, and joined the local gang for support and family by sixteen. Growing up fast with hard times, my mother had a case worker and was in every line available for a teenage mother to get public assistance while I played in her belly. I was born at Upstate Hospital on E. Adams St. in Syracuse, New York, in August on the eighth day of eighty-eight. Unlike the other infants in the nursery when I was born, I was going home to the projects. No warm blankets or crib were waiting for me, only filthy sheets and wet pillows, roaches, mice, drug deals, and gunshots at night. Never the one to do drugs or drink, my mother would be forced to breastfeed me because she did not have food herself many nights. W.I.C. helped, but she sold most items in the hood for cash or things we needed. Forced into a life of crime by seventeen years old, my mother was an official member of the local gang that ruled our neighborhood. My name is Rose; I was born from the concrete. This is my story.Complete
Numbers That Follows
I have never felt so close and yet so far away from anything before. I could hear people yelling, they noticed I was gone. I have been locked up for so long I forgot what the forest felt like. Full of life and green. By the time someone notices they are heading the wrong way, it will be too late. My plan was to escape, run south for a bit, then circle back to my prison. As soon as they followed the scent south, I would run north. I could hear a river north, so I would run to the river then wade up stream so the scent would be lost. Find somewhere safe to cross, then take off, continuing north. My heart is pounding so hard I am afraid my captures could hear it and ruin the whole plan.Complete
Love Means Sacrifice (A Peter Pan/ ROTG Fanfic)
I find myself in the middle of a city. Not just any city though, New York City. My prison city. I am in the middle of the street. A car comes straight at me and I dive out the way-or I would have if this armor hadn't gotten in the way. I fell over my feet and landed on my face. I stood up and got pretty mad. I was just about to yell at the person when I remembered that they can't see me. I walked to the sidewalk and at least five people walked through me. I was so shocked. I was alone. No one could see me and I don't know if anyone is like me. Hey guys! This is the sequel to my book, LOVE IS DECEIVING. Go read that before this!! Also, I only own Megan and Alix.Complete
Rich Bastard {mxm}
What happens when rich meets poor? Why, disaster, of course.Complete
Soda's Only
"'Cause I'm not worth fighting for." His lips met mine softly, lingering only for heartbeats until he leaps out of the truck and heads toward the other greasers. How dare he say that! If anything, I'm the one who isn't worth fighting for. But why would he say that? Especially to me? As I watched him line up with the other greasers, getting ready for the rumble, I caught his eyes on me. I couldn't help but blush. Why do I feel this way? Why did I enjoy the kiss? When the rumble began, all I could do was bite my lip and keep my eyes on Sodapop. I don't care if he doesn't think he's not worth saving, because...he is to me.Complete
YP
" If you keep running, Im going to fuck you so long that you can't even walk anymore understood?" I kept running. I'm so close to getting home. Getting back to Spain. I heard heavy, fast steeps behind me. He is running after me. I became faster. As much faster as my legs could go.Complete
I could remember there was always liquor or beer, coke in the plastic, dope in the rice though, and weed in the dutches; some may have crack inside, so keep your lips off people's stuff. Growing up in the projects, you learn to keep your mouth shut and never to say what you saw in the hood. My mother got pregnant by my father when my grandmother was at work, thinking her boyfriend was watching her teenage daughter. My father raped my mother before leaving the house forever, only for my mother to be covered in blood on the bed for hours. She was too shocked to move and too young to understand what had happened to her. My mother got pregnant at fourteen, gave birth at fifteen, and joined the local gang for support and family by sixteen. Growing up fast with hard times, my mother had a case worker and was in every line available for a teenage mother to get public assistance while I played in her belly. I was born at Upstate Hospital on E. Adams St. in Syracuse, New York, in August on the eighth day of eighty-eight. Unlike the other infants in the nursery when I was born, I was going home to the projects. No warm blankets or crib were waiting for me, only filthy sheets and wet pillows, roaches, mice, drug deals, and gunshots at night. Never the one to do drugs or drink, my mother would be forced to breastfeed me because she did not have food herself many nights. W.I.C. helped, but she sold most items in the hood for cash or things we needed. Forced into a life of crime by seventeen years old, my mother was an official member of the local gang that ruled our neighborhood. My name is Rose; I was born from the concrete. This is my story.
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