Romans & histoires I Am A Stick

I said innocently They looked at each other and then turned back to me. " Okay, how about the two of us" I nodded, and I realised the person that I was going to fight against was bigger than his friend. Holding the stick tightly, I swung it at him and he easily dodged it. I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to this, but I just hope someone comes in time to save me because there was nowhere in hell I was going to beat them. I swung the stick again and he was quick to dodge it, holding the stick, he ripped it from my hand, leaving me with nothing to defend myself.

Seeing the strength of the enemy, I doubted it would do any harm to him, but when life gives you lemons, you have to do what you can, right? All I had was one chance, and I didn’t plan to waste it. I swirled around swiftly and launched the stick straight at the enemy’s heart.

Well not in the way you're talking about. 📞 okay. I'm sorry. 📞 is there something you wanted to say? I heard Amy ask. 📞 Oh yes, yeah... There is something I want to say. 📞 then what is it? Come on Terrance, just say it. 📞 I... Uhmm.. I really like you Amy. Why didn't I just say it. 📞 I like you too, Amy answered. I'm already feeling disappointed with myself. This is so stupid, I'm so stupid.

I guess my stubbornness brought me bad and good? Then, I realized bottled up so much today, so I turned off the recording and ran away. All the people turned their heads toward me as I marched out of the building. I could feel my mind fog as my heart bounced back and forth in my chest. All their eyes looked concerned, worried, or maybe, terrified. I don't care anymore! I wasted my whole damn time playing games with him! I keep on walking and walking and walking-- ---walking! "Miss!" I heard a young man call me, and it brought me back to my senses.

I am not broken". Emma and I said at the same time. "AhaHhaaahaaa" that witch laughed and then said," If both of you aren't broken than who is the one which is broken. Is it me? Denying the reality doesn't change it but it'll make you feel better". Emma and I looked at each other and then again to that witch. She continued," One is trying to fight with none other than himself and the other is trying to fight her destiny. Oh, it's so interesting. But remember that the fight with your own self is the harder one. Tell me. Why are you both here?"

Then she grabbed the stick. My heart sank, and I tried to crawl away, but she was too fast. The first hit landed on my back, a sharp, searing pain that made me cry out. She didn’t stop. The stick came down again and again, hitting my legs, my arms, and my sides. Each blow made my body jerk, and the pain became too much to bear. “You’re worthless!” she yelled, her words stabbing me as deeply as the stick. “You’ll never be anything more than a stain on this pack!”

She leaned on it lightly, her leg muscles tensing with the effort to maintain balance. She moved through the room, each step a delicate ballet of strength and vulnerability. The stick was a crutch she could do without, yet it served as a constant reminder—a symbol of her resilience and the violence she had endured. It was a reminder that, while she might stumble, Cathleen would never fall.

The sound of broken strings that held Evangeline's priced self-worth. Her pride. Her self-esteem. Her patience. Her tolerance. Everything shuttered. Her emotions stirred, laying waste in her mind. Anger, embarrassment, shame, humiliation . . . above all else –– unacceptance. Disbelief that a nobody rejected her. That a nobody dared to say no to her. This nobody dares to make fun of me! Evangeline's lips quirked forming a chilling smirk. She stood, looking down at Eric with eyes brimming with fury.

With a hair flip I laugh, and Maggie and I head off to stretch. Tonight we are working with the sticks from Tahtib. My sticks had a titanium core for strength, but to look at the art work etched into the sides one would think they were just decorations. Every individual had sticks made to fit their personality, and mine were covered with gymnasts and lightning bolts. I still loved to sketch storms, the more voracious the better. Only now I could just watch them on my phone to get inspired. Much to Dak's surprise I was able to conjure a blade on the end of one of one, turning this beautiful work of art into a lethal weapon. I took a few blows in the legs before I realized that crushes ca

We all turned our attention to the stick, like it would give us an answer if we continue staring at it. Then Mo muttered something that rang a bell in my head: “If this isn't yours, and yet not mine, then, whose is it?”