A Collection Of Poems Novels & Stories

Lissa and Dan were happy to oblige my request to wait to find out the sex of our baby, but we all desperately wanted to see the little darling and get new pictures. I'd taken scads of photographs of Lissa every chance I got. I wanted to commemorate what she'd done for us, and I wanted to be able to show our son or daughter pictures of the pregnancy. I didn't know if Lissa would want one, but I was working on memory books, carbon copies, so we both had the same thing. I couldn't wait to add these pictures to those albums. It wasn't just a tribute to her-Dan, Brett, and I were in there as well. It was a collection of our lives.

"Step away from her, Caden." He turned. "What are you doing?" "Protecting myself. Protecting this pack." She walked closer. Pulled something from her pocket. A small pouch. My grandmother's herbs. Or what was left of them. "Found these in her room weeks ago. Thought they were medicine. Had them tested instead." She held them up. "Poison. Slow. Subtle. Designed to stop a woman from conceiving." My blood went cold. "I've been taking these for months," Serena said. "In my tea. In my food. She's been poisoning me. That's why I can't have children."

I dropped the panties back where they were and began to check the drawer. In it, she had some lotion, fingernails, and a book. In the bottom drawer, that is where the fun begins. She had 3 dildos of various sizes, lube, a vibrator, and a p**n magazine, which caught my attention. I grabbed and opened the magazine and started to flip through it. There was a naked posting for each session, and there was a picture of a girl licking the pussy of another girl.

I’m in a blue hip hugging party dress with a blue Mardi Graw mask. * *CELL* * “You cheated; you will be punished. The next clue will be tricky!” I warn. * *CELL ** “You look gorgeous. I want to be inside you right now.” Brady demands. * *CELL* * ”Good luck with the next clue. Love you bye!” I reply and I leave the envelope and disappear again. “Whoa dude, what's this clue?” Wesley asks. “Red is Toxic, Blue is Bayou, Pink ladies go here.” Brady reads.

If it wants, it can make your heart prosperous, and if willing, it can ruin your life ••• Sitting on a bench of the park, Taimoor was aimlessly looking around. The chilly wind of December brushes against his skin, making him shiver as he brought his hands up to blow some warm air in it. He forgot to bring his gloves. He didn't plan to leave his office and came to the park which is two blocks away, but the sudden wish of getting fresh air made him leave his office building. He was suffocated in his office, his mind was tangled with so many what and ifs. There were questions his heart was asking but no answer. Even in the park, where he was getting enough fresh air, he was unable to find peace

For a moment, it feels almost tender. Then reality crashes back in. What have we done?

The wind slammed against the lighthouse like it wanted in. Cara sat on the edge of the couch in the small living area, knees pulled up, trying to look like she wasn’t rattled. The power had flickered twice already. Each time the lights dimmed, her stomach twisted tighter. She wasn’t scared of storms usually. But this one felt personal. Like the island itself was closing in.

Cylvia’s POV: “Rock-a-bye, baby On the treetop When the wind blows The cradle will rock, When the bough breaks The cradle will fall; And down will come baby Cradle and all.” Memories kept on flashing in my mind over and over as the song automatically played, giving chills to my entire body and causing my tears to rain down directly on my cheeks. It’s been a year. It’s been a year since my most beloved and cherished person who promised not to leave me alone broke her promise. It’s been a year of carrying heavy emotions on my shoulders. It’s been a year of living alone. At this exact day, at this exact moment, my Mom perished.

All the way through. She did not speak. I drank my coffee. Outside the street moved. Inside the place was quiet and warm and neither of us was in any hurry. When she reached the last page she closed the sketchbook. Set both hands flat on the cover. “Anita,” she said. “I know.” “No.” She looked at me. “I don’t think you do.” She paused. “This is a collection. Not sketches. Not drawings. A collection. It has a point of view. It has a language. Every single piece is in conversation with the others.”

*A New Collection. .......... Tyler sprawled on his bed, sweatpants shoved down around his thighs, phone in one hand and his cock in the other. It was almost two in the morning and he was stupid horny. Lena hadn’t answered his last three texts he sent, the blue-light glowing from his screen made everything feel hotter and dumber than it was. He stroked himself slow, thumb brushing over the fat head where a bead of precum was already leaking. Looked good in the dim lamp light, it was thick, hard as fuck because it was already standing now, the way Lena always said she liked it.