Finally, a twenty-two old girl was dazzled by the world's brightness and kept her eyes shut for two weeks. When at the end of that time she opened her eyes again, she did not recognize any objects, but, "the more she now directed her gaze upon everyt...
Isabelle - "She laughed out loud, not able to recognize her own voice. She found her situation suddenly hilarious. She laughed and laughed at the door. Just a simple, silly, stupid door had her trapped. And now the ones that had been closed so long w...
She looked at the empty page, which remained blank, apart from the small wet dots from her tears, for hours. Her mind was a turmoil of sadness, rage, fear and all those emotions that gave her inspiration. However her heart lacked the will as the empt...
She ran into the bathroom and powdered her face and the front of her dress, drew a surrealistic version of a mouth beneath her nose, and dashed into her bedroom to find a coat.
. . . she tried to weave the strength of her father and the young beauty of her first love with David, the happy oblivion of her teens and her warm protected childhood into a magic cloak.
Her beauty was enough to get her into most any situation she desired and her tongue—sharp and venomous—was enough to get her out again.
Everyone would fear her again. And love her, of course. Mrs Pincent needed to be loved as much as wanted to be feared-to her they were two sides of the same coin. Both gave her total control.
Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.
Tell her that you love her hair, that you love her skin, her lips, because, in truth, you love them more than you love your own.
He was a mystery to her, and every time she tried to solve him it caused her a little more pain. But when she tired to give him up he pursued her in her thoughts, stronger each time.
Her entire life was obeying orders. She’d left her Father behind, only to fall into the hands of another dictator. Was her life her own anymore, or was she a puppet on a string, dancing to Ryan’s tune?
She is stunning in her anger. Her eyes are bright, her chest is heaving and all I want to do is slam against her into nearest wall. I take a deep breath to calm the hormones, again."- Alex.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn't need to turn around to know he was standing behind her. Most likely with a smirk at catching her impromptu belly dance.
Jennifer Merrick had stored all her tears inside her, and her pride and courage would never permit her to break down and shed them.
She drifted down into the water, letting it engulf her body until even her face was underwater. The silence was delicious, just the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
Make sure he's worth it. She had thought it so many times it had become a part of her. Like her tongue filling her mouth, so this tenet filled her being.
A longing for the extraordinary had grabbed ahold of her and was burning her up inside, so hot and fierce that her heart had gone stone cold toward everything and everybody standing in her way. That was Mama. Fire and ice.
Kicking the door shut with the heel of my boot, I wedge her against it, raining kisses on her skin, wishing I could climb inside her and kiss away the welts left on her heart and mind.
I had not cried for Margo until then, but now finally I did, pounding against the ground and shouting because there was no on to hear: I missed her I missed her I missed her I miss her.
Everything about her always seemed to dance. Her lips as she spoke, her eyes as she laughed, even her hands as she made the cup of coffee I just ordered.
It was amazing what an hour with her sketchpad could do for her mood. She was sure that the lines she drew with her black marker were going to save her years of worry lines in the future.
