Franny Glass Mga Nobela at Kwento

A large shard of glass was imbedded in the wound, keeping it open. Karn grunted, wiped the blood from his nose and then flipped her the finger. "No fornication!" "I'm surprised you know what the word means. Can't imagine why anyone would want to fornicate with a miserable old bastard like you." Brandon groaned and pulled himself to his feet, using Andrea to steady himself. He was well out of it, grinning madly. "I've heard of glassy-eyed stares, Andi, but glassy cheeks? That's a new one, girl. Is this a new craze 'cos man, if it isn't you're gonna be a trendsetter!"

Charity did my make-up a little heavier than I am used to but it enhanced my features instead of taking away from them. We waited on applying any lipstain, per Fran’s request and when she came in with a cart of canapes and 2 bottles of champagne on ice, I understood why. Now that I have Wyntre it is difficult to actually get drunk, so it won’t matter if I have a glass or two before the ceremony. “I thought you should eat a little something before the event tonight, because you’ll be busy mingling and may not get a chance to eat until after everything is over,” Fran explained as she poured flutes of champagne and passed them out, even giving the twins each a half a flute.

"No, please brag. You've earned it. We should get going, though, before Pierre shows up. Will you help me back into my dress, please? I need to try and fix my hair." "Yeah, sure. And there's some glass over here that you can try and use as a mirror."

one of the men said as he started walking toward me with a smug look on his face. "I'm not going anywhere with you, and you're going to regret coming into this shop tonight because I have a brother who is dying and I don't have time to play games with my father’s old lapdogs," I replied as I reached behind me and grabbed a heavy glass jar of antiseptic from the counter. I threw the jar at his head and he ducked just enough for it to miss, but it gave me the second I needed to lung forward and drive a jagged shard of glass from the broken window into the soft spot under his chin.

One of them wore glasses and appeared to have some standing among them, making the orders before anyone else could. When she was finished, she said, "That's all I need… What else would you like, Mr. Frankton?" Frank shook his head. "You girls decide!" The lady in glasses nodded. "Well then, you've had your chance! So, what are you going to drink?" "Spirits will do, if they have any." The lady's face lit up. "Impressive, Mr. Frankton! You can hold your liquor despite looking young! What a coincidence—I just happened to have some bottles of rum stored here! Waiter, bring them up!"

A thin, jagged crack appeared in the glass. “Be careful!” Cassandra snapped. “That’s a Waterford.” “Sorry,” Aria whispered. She wasn’t sorry about the bowl. She was sorry she was still breathing. She was sorry she was the shadow in the silver dress, waiting for a man who used silence as a weapon.

My reflection looks like a stranger, pale, sweating, eyes too wide. The heat spikes again, harder. A soft sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. I bite down on the inside of my cheek until blood tastes copper-bright. Pain is useful. Pain is something I still control. I turn the final corner toward the residential wing and nearly collide with a servant carrying linens. The girl’s eyes widened. She bows, scurries away. Did she catch the scent? I cannot tell. Everything is drowning in the rising tide of my own body.

Francesco's gaze is enough to make me pee in my panties. I have never been more scared of anyone than I am right now because of Francesco. “Get up!” He commanded and I jumped up. “Strip! I want all your clothes gone.” He said, his voice full of authority. “Francesco? I mean… Don. I can't do that.” I trembled. “Should I assist you instead?” He bellowed. I looked away for a moment before I returned my attention to him. It is only a matter of a few days. The shattered glass syndrome is at play already. I will just do as he had ordered.

I'm ready. We both hold the delicate wine glass. “ Uno, due, tre ,” I said, then dropped the glass. It bounced, but didn't break. The rod broke, but otherwise the glass remained intact, rolling sideways until it stopped. Francesca gasped, while Zia quickly made mano cornuto, the horns sign, toward the glass to ward off any evil spirits. — Faust! — Horror laced Francesca's voice. — It's supposed to break. I put my arm around her waist and spoke softly into her ear. —It means nothing, a stupid tradition from the past.

A man stared out his window with a glass of red wine in his hand. Classical music played smoothly as he stared aimlessly out the window. He ran a hand through his silver curls while taking a sip on the wine which was as thick as blood. A lone look filled his face, and his hand squeezed the glass cup hard. Suddenly the sound of glass breaking resounded around the room. "Oh, oh, oh no…. Master Rousseau I— I don't know what happened-" A small face girl knelt down on the ground and scrambled to pick up the shards of glass fallen on the ground.