Strange Famous

Well, I think its a cool title, but the story sucks - I wrote it in an afternoon when I was drunk, cos my sister hadnt done her GCSE English coursework, so stylistically, it is SUPPOSED to look like a 16 year old wrote it! Honest!

Well, no one replied to my last story or poems that I posted, but I'll try again. I mean, Im aware it isnt really any good, but I think parts of it are quite funny - and I still like the idea of it.



Imploding Lights by Adam Douglas

Lana accepted the bottle of Extra Strong Cider from Bez and uneasily swung it towards her, her equilibrium momentarily lost as she caught the bottle against her chest. She checked herself and tried to concentrate on the spinning, anti-gravity machine whumping, sensation in her head to make stop; she looked up and saw that Gavin was watching her; she deliberately gripped the bottle girlishly in both hands, dipped her head coquettishly and slowly titled the bottle up and took a long pull of the sharp alcoholic liquid. As soon as she had taken one drink, Dan was bouncing across the floor and had grabbed the bottle from her, and she felt as if the essence of her was sinking through her body and into the floor.
I am a star girl, I am, I am made up of the same stuff as all those stars up there, she thought to herself.
“Look at Lana, she’s well drunk!” sneered Kelly, from across the room.
Lana turned and smiled her picture perfect smile “So?”
And the younger girl fell quiet.

Sometimes the smallness of her thoughts and plans embarrassed Lana, but right now she was thinking that this party was all right, it was. Lana had not been planning it, but she had found out that morning that her Mother would be away for a couple of nights on business, so she decided to invite some friends from school around. Off course, she had invited Gavin, but that meant she had had to invite Danny and Bez, who right now were ensconced in the corner of the room talking loudly about football and martial arts; and that had meant she had had to invite Kelly (who was a little fat and very pretty), Dani (very fat and a little pretty ) and Jenny (who wasn’t fat or pretty at all) from the year below. Aleshia was there of course, Alana’s statuesque black friend who had dropped out of school to live with a 24 year old car mechanic, but Lana was fairly sure that she was looking better than her these days. A few of the lads from Lana’s class: Pete, Toby, Fat Steven, Crazy Morgan, plus Jonathon (a painfully shy young man, who was six foot two at the age of thirteen, who Lana used to have a crush on for some reason she could not comprehend now) and Paul, who had acne, who she had invited at all, but didn’t really mind being there. And then there was her sister, Amanda, who had not only refused to vacate the house for the evening, but had actually insisted on joining in and had threatened to tell their mother everything if Lana wouldn’t let her. And as if that wasn’t enough, Amanda had invited her boyfriend, Joseph, who was in Lana’s year and who gave Lana the creeps. She still recalled, with equal measures of bewilderment and distaste, the time last year when Lana’s had spent an entire youth club disco trying to tease out him whether he really had gotten a tattoo, and he had finally shyly revealed that he had emblazoned indelibly “FUCK YOU” across his broad hairy stomach. When, a couple of months later, Amanda started dating the big lummox, Lana had quizzed her about Joseph’s choice of body decoration and Amanda had, both ridiculously and predictability to Lana’s mind, stated that it was evidence that he was “deep”. The boy reminded Lana of the boy “with the black eyed soul” from the Texas song. At school he was sullen and morose, hardly spoke to anyone, and failed at everything; he seemed to look both hurt and potentially violent at the same time always. And Lana, unreadable Lana, could not read him at all.

Yeah, this party was all right, though. She could forget Danny and Bez, she even forgave Amanda and Kelly and et al for their presence, and Joseph… well, was Joseph, always sitting on the sidelines, always looking in with his hooded eyes like he wanted to say something but had nothing to say… what did he matter? Lana focused and managed to rise to her feet reasonably gracefully, and walked purposely towards Gavin (who looked gorgeous in his white sweater and Fubu jeans) to offer him a light, or ask for a light, or whatever. And the stars… All the stars, all those billions and trillions of them, and all the immeasurable volumes of brilliance they radiate… and yet they are nothing really. Nothing at all but tiny pin pricks of light in this vast, unfolding blanket of nothingness and indifference; this great void which all these billions and billions and billions of Hiroshima’s of light can only illuminate a fraction of; this huge uncaring darkness that was always there and will be their when every sun and every child is long dead… Lana started at the strange thoughts that filled her, and found herself searching out Joseph for some reason. She saw him, staring straight at the wall opposite him and talking quietly to Amanda, who by the way seemed to have made an extra effort to look especially pasty and anorexic tonight, and to top that off had dressed herself entirely in black. Lana gathered herself and asked Gavin for a cigarette. She felt her fear slip away a little, but not right away; and she wondered at the same time if the same disintegrating star had made her and Gavin.

“Having a Hallowe’en party was a great idea, Lana” Stephen was suddenly saying pointlessly.
With an internal sigh, Lana smiled brightly, half suppressing her “funny face” face, (which really did look funny) at Gavin and turned to face him.
“But you know, we ought to do something scary… like a Ouija board or something, you know?” The overweight boy continued.
Lana, who could think of far scarier things, shrugged; that’s a great idea that is, she thought, you all play your silly board games and I’ll have Gavin to myself.
“Oh no! You can’t do that!” piped up Amanda, annoyingly.
Frustrated, Lana turned on her “What? I thought you liked that sort of thing”
To Lana’s genuine surprise, because she had genuinely thought that anyone who dressed that like was bound to want to play with ghosts and listen to death metal and probably worship Satan, Amanda protested vehemently:
“No way! It’s really dangerous, those sorts of things aren’t toys. You could reach an evil spirit or something, and it could possess someone…” Everyone in the room was staring at Amanda and she was faltering, becoming embarrassed, she turned to her boyfriend for support “Right Joe?”
“Um… I don’t really know. Yeah, I suppose you might have a point”
“Are you scared of evil spirits then Joe?” Lana asked him in a teasing tone of voice.
“Not really”
“How come?”
“Why should I be?”
“For the same reason when you were a little boy you were scared of to be in the dark, all on your own, when you were in bed at night.”
“But I wasn’t ever scared of the dark.”
(Lana’s dislike of Joe was greatly increased by her seeming inability to flirt with him; on the few occasions she had tried – solely to annoy her younger sister – he always seemed totally incapable of getting it and playing along; the kindest thing to think, Lana had told herself before, was he suffered from some kind of mental incapacity, perhaps he was mildly autistics?)
“Then why don’t we get the Ouija board out, and why don’t we see if you are really so brave when we call up the Devil.”
“If you like” said Joe.
Lana’s stared at Amanda, ready to gloat of her little victory, but she was already talking, looking slightly desperately at Big Joe, her muddy eyes boyfriend, who’s eyes weren’t windows to his soul, but mirrors.
“But it could hurt you, really. ‘Cos once it has made contact it can take our strength and it would use you as a conduit to the world of things, and it could haunt you, and it would eat your fear, until it was strong enough to touch you…”
“If it haunted me, I could haunt it; and if it tried to scare me I’d make it scared of me, and if it tried to touch me then I would reach out and touch it too. If it came into my world I would shove my hands down its throat, grab its soul in my fists, and tear it in two.”
Joseph spoke calmly and matter-of-factly, no different to Bez had earlier in the evening when he had tried to explain the merits of wing backs or something equally ridiculous earlier in the evening. One of the boys looked like he was about to laugh and taunt him, but thought better of it at the last moment. Everyone knew the guy was weird, but… Well, Lana just hoped he didn’t wonder why he never usually got invited to parties if he was going to turn up and talk about murdering ghosts.
Finally, Stephen, the instigator of this whole ludicrous conversation, spoke up:
”Don’t you think it’s a good idea then Joe?”
Annoyed that he had asked Joseph and not her, and feeling that her thoughts on her sisters heavy set boyfriend were clearly vindicated anyway, Lana turned on her heels and marched over to Gavin.
“Well, I don’t mind I suppose.”
“Would you do it then?”
“Yeah, sure. Well, I might. I suppose since Manda is worried about it I might not” (apparently he had just remembered that it was his depressive grebo girlfriend who invited him into this conversation in the first place, hoping that he would back her up, not imply she was either a moron or a coward, Lana thought spitefully, and at the same time wondered if Amanda preferred to be called Manda, and why she had not at least had the decency to tell her if she did…)
“But there’s not much point really is there? I don’t think it’s going to do anything anyway, is it?” The big oaf finished.
Oh, something will happen it will, just wait! But already the tension, and her annoyance at Joseph’s apparent disinterest in her charms had vanished as quickly as it came to her; and she felt disappointed to have put it so childishly, even to herself.
“Right, I’ll go and get my Ouija board shall I, and you can decide for yourselves if you want to use it.” Lana asked loudly.
“You don’t have one!” her sister accused
“How do you know?”
She didn’t know, so Lana turned her back on the group, and seizing Gavin’s hand and telling him to come with her and help look, she disappeared up the stairs.

“Um… do you believe in ghosts?” said Gavin, as he stood shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next.
“No” Replied Lana “I don’t believe in anything except what is real, what you can touch, and feel.”
“How come you’ve got that ghost board thing then?”
“I haven’t, I haven’t got anything like that” Said Lana, who in fact had, but had no idea where it was.
“Bu…”
“I just said that so I could get you alone, Gavin” Lana smiled invitingly
“Oh”
Lana couldn’t think of anything more to say. She felt helpless and annoyed at herself, such little things, such unimportant things made her feel lost. And she was annoyed with Gavin to, did she have to do everything herself, or maybe he just didn’t like her?
“You’ve got a lot of books” observed Gavin, breaking the awkward silence, picking up a second hand paperback book at random from one of the huge bookshelves that filled three sides of Lana’s room (and several boxes in the Attic, and half a bookcase she had grudgingly lent to her sister partly because she had nowhere else to keep them, and partly because she genuinely wanted to share them)
“Yeah, I do I guess” said Lana dully.
Is this for science?” Gavin asked, waving a book about the destructive capacity of modern atomic weapons in her direction, looking vaguely concerned because he had obviously never read anything like it.
“Nah, just for fun” said Lana (she hoped) slightly sarcastically.
Gavin was silent again for a moment and then asked: “Do you often read for fun?”
“Only at the weekends”
“Um, oh? Why’s that then?”
Out of frustration, Lana pulled the string that undid the intricate webbing at the back of her top and which caused it to fall apart and fall to the floor.
“Come here and kiss me.” She told him, and for once, he did what he was told.

***

Joe watched Lana disappear up the stairs, admiring the way she walked. She was a hottie alright, and in that hot little pink number and those tight jeans… Joe wished he hadn’t started babbling about ripping hole’s in the soul’s of ghosts. Joe wondered, and not for the first time, and nor was he the first to wonder, whether someone would wear a bra under a top like that, and in fact, if it was even possible to. But my Dad has the mental age of a twelve year old, my Mum weighs over thirty stones and my elder sister cut her wrists open and bled to death in the bath, so what the hell does it matter anyway? Joe asked himself miserably. Manda edged closer to him, and nestled her lithe body against his. He wrapped his big arm around her slim shoulders, he held her hand in his, her hand felt so small in his. Or was it that his felt so big in hers?

“Where the bloody hell are they? It can’t take this long time to find it!” demanded Bez aggressively.
“Perhaps they went looking for it and got lost” said Amanda, pouting, because she was in love with her boyfriend, but had a crush on Gavin; who was so handsome he could be in one the boy bands that Amanda hated and was the leading goal scorer for the local football team, which Amanda thought was nothing more than a big crock of macho bullshit.

“Ouija board wouldn’t work here anyway, Joe was right. It wont do anything” Stephen was saying, who apparently was the group’s expert on the subject now “You need to be somewhere haunted in the first place for it to work. We need to find a haunted house.”
Oh yeah, that’s just what we want that is, thought Joe, but he didn’t say anything because he felt Manda’s hand tighten around his own, and he instinctively pulled her protectively closer into his chest.
“There’s the old gatehouse in Stratley Wood” said Kelly, and Joe didn’t bat an eyelid as he matter-of-factly agreed: “Oh yeah, I’ve heard that that place is haunted too.”
“Bollocks” spat Bez, who didn’t believe in ghosts and loved to make fun of people who did. Joe composed himself, despite the excitement he felt building inside, he knew he had to stay calm. “I’ll tell you what” he began, carefully (heroically, he felt) “You wouldn’t catch me going there on my own, no way.”
“Thought you weren’t scared of evil spirits? Thought you’d pull em in half if they bothered you?” sneered Bez nastily.
Joe straightened and replied seriously “Oh well, this is different. I mean, its easy to be brave when you’re here with everyone else, isn’t it?”
No one disagreed, so Joe pushed on, bravely:
“With a big bunch of mates, all jumping out on each other shouting “Boo!” and all that, yeah, I’d do that. But go to that place all on my own, tonight on Hallowe’en of all nights, after what happened there… No way would I do that.”
“Why not?” snorted Bez derisively, who had already been drunk when he turned up, and must have drunk a couple of bottles more Extra Strong Cider since, “’Cos you’re a gutless little chicken!”
Joe gripped his girlfriend tighter and felt almost orgasmic as he replied: “Yeah, I’d be too scared mate. Too right…” He puffed out his chest proudly and felt a single manly tear forming in the corner of his eye as he mustered “And you would be too mate, if you had any sense!
“Bollocks, I’m not scared of a rotten old fucking house!” snapped Bez; and Joe, who felt like he had never given such a performance in his life, shook his head sadly, and noted with pride that this seemed to serve only to make “Bez” even more annoyed and pugnacious.
***

Upstairs, Lana was fully dressed again, and Gavin was kind of cowering on the floor at her feet, in her position she found most empowering. He was gorgeous, still, but it really did him no favours to carry on snivelling and whining like that, Lana thought, even if it was what she really had wanted, it really spoiled his image in her eyes. She could even have changed things, even when she pulled her bright pink top apart and made him kiss her, it was not too late then; but she had no intention of not seeing things through now, especially in light of how he was conducted himself crying and begging on her bedroom floor like some kind of dog. He looked up, his face was tear strained and one of his eyes red and bruised, his lip was bleeding slightly; his chest was criss crossed with painful red welts made by Lana’s fake nails in a pattern she had told him was an Egyptian death curse, but which was actually her clumsy attempt at a butterfly.
“Please…” he sobbed brokenly “please, I’ll do anything. You don’t have to”
“I don’t want you to do anything” said Lana quietly, bored with him now and starting to find him genuinely annoying; and as always she was critical of her own judgement.
“Please?” he whimpered and started to cry loud enough that Lana felt obliged to kick him in the crotch to make him shut up, in case they heard downstairs.
“Oh, just shush. Don’t be such a baby. It’ll all be over soon enough”
Gavin started to cry again, although at least more quietly this time. Lana licked her lips slightly as she noticed a small rivulet of blood running down his tanned, hairless chest. She wished she could grow her own fingernails long, but that was just another one of the things she would never have the chance to do. She placed one foot on his chest and forced him to lie still on his back; she ground the heel of her shoe into his left nipple and painfully and smiled at the way he squirmed. She teased and hurt him until he had shut up, and then she told him: “You can’t tell anyone you know. By the way. In case you were wondering. If you didn’t get that part of it. You can’t tell anyone about this. That’s how it works.”
“Why?” he whimpered, and although he knew it was true the moment she said it and that that was all that really mattered, she told him anyway.
“Because I don’t want you too. I could stop you knowing too. I could make it so you didn’t feel anything; but I don’t want to do that. I want you to know. I want you to curse every second of your life as it goes by, because you know it’s never coming back, because you know it’s all going to end so soon…”
Gavin started to cry again.
“Stop crying” she ordered, and he did. Soon after that, she made him get dressed and turned him out. She was surprised to find that everyone else had gone, although it was still early. Even her friend Aleshia, who had promised they would get a chance to have a real chat some time tonight. She sensed something strange and sad. She walked outside and stood on the grass, looking up at the stars.
“That’s where I come from.” She told the cold October air. “Look up there, that’s where I come from, that’s where I’m from…”

***

No one ever really figured out what happened to Ricky “Bez” Berry. The police were involved for a little while, and even when they dropped it his parents wouldn’t, but no one could ever find anyone who they could really blame, and the parents moved away, and people started to forget. The story was pieced together eventually, and it went like this. A bunch of kids had a Hallowe’en party at some girl’s house, and they got drunk and smoked some funny cigarettes, like kids do. Some of the lads had dared Ricky to spend a night at an old house in the woods that had been abandoned for years. Some local people said it was haunted, although no one really knew by what or who. Ricky Berry had gone to the house all right, and all the way up the supposedly haunted bedroom where he had been dared to sleep the night. And maybe by then he’d been scared out of his wits, or just to drunk or out of his mind on whatever else he’d been taking… because this is what he’d done. They’d given him a hammer and nail to hammer into the wall of the ghost bedroom, so he could prove he’d been in the room to those of the group only brave enough to face the ghosts in the day time. Somehow, he had got himself half in and half out of the room, and hammered the seat of his own trousers into the wall by the door; so that when he tried to leave he found he couldn’t. And the harder he had pulled and struggled to get out, the more surely the unseen force that held him must have gripped. No one could really guess how long it had taken for his heart to give out, but he was dead by the next day when his mother tearfully followed a young female police officer up the creaking old stares, and then vomited on her son’s corpse when she saw his dead face, his eyes half crazy, his teeth bared in the agony of terror.

Some of the older, more superstitious people in the village wondered what sort of demons he must have found in that room that had driven him mad and then to death. The more down to earth gossips spread (false) rumours that he had probably died from taking ecstasy. The kids at the local comprehensive had just come to terms with this tragedy, when, five weeks later, Gavin Raistrick, a boy from the same class, had been killed in a road accident just outside his own house. His mother had raced out when she heard him cry out, a young girl, Aleshia Bright who had been a passenger in the car had been badly hurt as the car skidded out of control trying to avoid the boy, and would spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. The driver swore that Gavin had just stepped out in front of him as if he had been sleepwalking, that he had no chance. No one really believed that, but he got off with just a ban anway, even though he was doing ten mile an hour over the limit.

***

It was the day after Gavin’s funeral that Joe bumped into Lana in the dining hall. “Hi”
“Hello, Joe” Lana tilted her head sideways a little and ran her hand absently down her hip to smooth out her skirt. She had been watching Joseph closely in the last few weeks, and she thought she saw something behind his sullen moods and blank eyes now.
“Hey… um… I’m really sorry about your boyfriend, Lana” Joe began nervously.
“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you to say” smiled Lana, wondering if that sounded inappropriate.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, recognition in each’s eyes. It felt like years to both of them. But it was Joseph, the heavily built tall boy with the dark eyes and stupid tattoo, who spoke first of course.
“How long have you been dead?” He asked quietly
“Oh, ever so long” said Lana sweetly, then felt stupid, and added in her normal voice “about 1600 years. How long have you been?”
“Um… not very long really, not as long as you, only about fifty years. I died in 1950”
“That’s not about 50 years, it is exactly 50 years!” Lana smiled coquettishly and edged one leg towards him.
“Well, yeah.” Joe admitted.
“Not as long as me”
“Still…?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I mean, still… there can’t be many of us, are there?”
“No, I don’t think so. I never knew there was anyone else.”
“Really?”
“Nope” Lana dipped her head and looked up at him “do you know anyone else like you?”
“Other than you? No… I just thought…”
“I always thought I was alone.”
“Maybe we’re the only two?”
“Maybe we are”
Lana noticed that Joe’s face seemed to be going red, and his eyes twitching in a way she was sure wasn’t healthy.
“Does your sister know? I mean, about you?” Asked Joe.
“No, of course not.” Said Alana, and added more gently “No, I mean, how could she know, how could she understand? What could I tell her? Does she know about you?”
“Oh no, no way” Joe assured her, his throat was feeling dry.
“Maybe, we could do stuff together, we could? I mean, you know… I guess you’re really powerful and I… I mean, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do, I just had this idea, and…”
Lana smiled and stepped closer to Joe until her knee was touching the inside of his leg, and she had to look up at an angle of 45 degree’s to talk to him. Joe seemed to be having difficulty breathing, Lana wondered how long it would take before he fell on the floor and started panting like a dog, or just fainted; she thought it might be a lot of fun to find out.
“Yeah, but aren’t you scared I might hurt you?” Lana asked softly.
Joe looked genuinely surprised. “No, I’m not scared of that, why would I be scared you would hurt me?.” He said, in close to his ordinary, toneless voice. For a second Lana felt weak at the knees and almost melted in to him.
“Well… because what I do hurts people.” Lana said. Her lips were now about an inch from his neck as she spoke, she was unsure exactly how this might look as they were standing in a crowded dinner hall, but didn’t really care. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and wondered exactly how someone’s face could go so red as Joe’s had now, and if it would draw undue attention if his collar exploded.
“No, no… I’m not scared… It’s just that thing, you know, that thing you do… I don’t really know how, but…”
“What thing?” asked Lana innocently, as she shifted her weight to her over leg and caused her knee to run up across Joe’s leg.
“Uh well, this thing you’re doing?” Joe volunteered, he had now broken out into a sweat. Lana wondered if it was her imagination, or if little wafts smoke were drifting out of his nostrils.
“Don’t you like it when I do this thing to you?” Lana asked, she backed Joe carefully against the wall, and forced one of his hands to rest on her hip. Her face was six inches from his, she placed her own hand over his and held it tight and immobile on her slim hip..
“Uh, um…well” Joe stammered helplessly, Lana realised he had lost the power of speech, and probably rational thought altogether.

In all the years since she had died, when she had slowly realised this power she had over men (and even women, although she preferred not to get involved in that sort of thing, and only killed women if she really hated them), Lana had never met anyone before who she could do anything she wanted to, stretch out as far as she liked, and hold there as long as she wanted, and he would never break. Joe appeared to be frothing a little at the mouth now as Lana concentrated all her mind on his, and slid her slender ankle against his bulky one, and started to rub her foot against his at about roughly the same tempo as if she had been masturbating him. In all honesty, Lana was pretty convinced that her power, whatever it was (and how little she understood it and herself still) was pretty much all in the mind, the physical part was really just for her. She had first learned what she could do, a few months after she had died and then the next instant found herself wandering round 5 miles outside a small village 200 miles from where she had lived her whole life, (and for some reason dressed all in white) while being raped by a holy man: she had caused his eyeballs to melt when, after he had finished using her, she had rolled over on top of him and started to suck his right nipple. For some reason, after that, and however she had developed and refined her mental capacity for attracting harm, it always remained linked in her own mind to her sexuality, even though she suspected this was a self serving delusion, and often wondered if it was a sign she was rather perverted.

She wondered how much more of this Joe could take, exactly what would happen to him if he went beyond what he could take, if he was just like her? She clenched his essence in her own, and wrung it and twisted it, when she decided from the pleading look in Joe’s eyes that enough was really enough (especially as he now appeared to be swallowing his own tongue…) she clenched and twisted for another couple of minutes, and then finally let him go. Joe’s face immediately became deathly pale.
“You’re really not scared?”
“No, I’m not scared” he said, speaking ordinarily, although he still looked rather ill.
“That thing… which I do?” She began
“Yeah?” said Joe, looking as if he was regaining health by the minute, his breathing was still a little ragged, but sounded human again
“You can do it to me, too… if you like?” Lana smiled up at him, let him push her hands behind her own back, let his superior physical strength pin them there.
“I don’t know if I know how.” Joe mustered
“Oh, I bet you do” Lana simpered.
They stared at each other. Out of the corner of her eye, Lana saw a teacher, Mr Boggs a Geography master, rising out of his chair and staring at her with an ugly look. She smiled at Joe, stood on tip toe, and kissed him on the side of the mouth. The whole world seemed to flex for a second, and then Boggs was sitting down again, a look of shock on his face. He had been watching those two monkeying around in the corner together for the last few minutes, and had just decided to get up and put a stop to such a shameful public display, when he suddenly felt as if someone had walked over his grave. In exactly 37 days, he would be diagnosed with untreatable lung cancer, although it would take 18 painful months to kill him.

Meanwhile, Lana and Joe went and got their lunch, Lana innocently chatting with the girl in line ahead of her, and while Joe looked a little flustered still, his face and demeanour showed little of the ordeal he had just suffered. They sat down at the same table. Lana noticed her sister, at the other side of the dining hall, staring hatefully at her. She noticed with distaste how much mascara she had on, and the ugly dark blue nail polish she wore. Scrumptiously, she nodded in Amanda’s direction, and Joe caught her eye, realised what she meant. He looked a little surprised, but then just shrugged. Lana smiled her sweetest smile at him, and he grinned his rare, silly grin for a second, before his face became one again more or less a mask, and he turned his attention back to his meal. Internally, he visualised his hands as huge, giant size – stretching all the way from here to his old house, and he pictured his girlfriend as if she were a voodoo doll. He imagined himself manipulating the ether of her soul; he plotted his skinny dark haired girlfriends death, while her pretty blonde sister kept breaking his concentration by knocking her foot against his and winking at him.

__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

bacon_masta

interesting and original. a little hard to read because of grammar issues, but i really enjoyed it.