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Showing content with the highest reputation on 10/30/12 in all areas

  1. My name is Parkur I walk the mean streets of the internet looking for my next scoop There are those that speak ill of me, but it's okay, this is the life I have chosen to lead "No scoop, no life" is my motto
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  2. Dear Anonymous, You don't bother me. I feel that you're empty and lost and directionless. I feel like you're going nowhere and you don't care. I just want you to snap out of it. Maybe I'm not good at saying that. Maybe I'm horrible at comforting others. Both would be true. But I just want to let you know that you're my friend. Maybe you won't talk to me. Maybe you believe I've rejected you and shut you out. But that's not true. I still care about you. I don't want my friends to waste their lives and one day look back and say, "Man, now that I think about it...I don't even remember if I did anything worth remembering." I want you to smile and be happy. ...Or maybe I'm all wrong and it's just me. But still. Good luck with your life. ~ Jean
    1 point
  3. They aren't over rated, they are great and Imagine is John Lennon's solo career production not The Beatles.
    1 point
  4. Well, here's what can count as a prologue of sorts... ************* The night was dark, and rain poured from the heavens in torrents as strong as waterfalls. A lone figure stepped into the faint, barely visible yellow light of a street lamp. The boy couldn't have been older than fifteen. His blond locks stuck to his soaked face, the rain clotting his vision, chilling him to the bone. His eyes flickered about, trying hard to pierce through the curtains of water, trying to find something, someone. He ran through the dark alley, searching, frantically searching. Searching for her. She should have met him here. She had said she would. The boy's dark blue eyes tightened in fear, his stomach twisting as he imagined the gruesome possibilities of- no, it couldn't happen. She would be able to get herself out of it. He knew she would. He was merely overreacting. Breathe, he told himself, sucking in a lungful of air. There's no need to panic. You just got here early, that's all... He closed his eyes, trying to relax as well as he could, a difficult feat seeing every square inch if him was drenched in water, and the strong, whipping breezes did nothing to help his discomfort. Deciding to wait for a few moments, he leaned against the damp wall, shivering as the wind screamed by, blocking out all other noise, except for a boom of thunder. Eyes snapping open, lightning flashed, illuminating the dark, storming clouds above him, outlining the silhouettes of two people a couple hundred feet away. He started running, sensing in his heart that it was her, that she was safe, that nothing had happened to her. A lopsided smile hung on his face- he felt like a fool for worrying. The distance closing fast, he was about to call her name when he heard a crack, like thunder but not quite the same, and watched in horror as her dark form slumped to the ground, motionless. He was practically flying now, skimming the ground as he raced to her side, momentary joy forgotten in a sudden spike of worry. There was another deafening boom, sounding over the drum of rain and the howling wind, and the intense white flicker of light showed something dark flowing from her chest, like a black flower. His insides squirmed as his head gave the only plausible answer. Blood. The other figure turned to face him, gun in hand, but the sprinting boy had no concern for this potential danger. He dropped down to the girl's side, gently lifting her head as his other arm wrapped around her middle. She gave a weak smile as she looked at him, normally vivid sapphire eyes pale, crimson bubbling at the edge of her lips. Her mouth trembled, and the boy realized she was trying to talk, and leaned down so he was pressed against her, trying to shield her faint whispers from the wrath of the wind. He could feel her warm blood seeping through his clothes and onto his skin, and a little voice in his head told him she was dying. And he knew. One look at her was enough to tell. "I love you," she murmured with all the feeling she could muster, her voice shaking with both pain and sorrow, azure orbs holding all of the love she couldn't say. "Never forget that." He heard the finality in her words, the hidden, yet obvious 'good bye' in her tone, and fiercely wished he could deny it. Wished he could say 'It's not the end', wished he could say 'You're going to be okay', just wished he could save her. But in the end, death won all battles. And he always reaped his reward. "I won't," he replied, taking her hand and squeezing it tight, feeling her faintly return some of the pressure. "I promise." His tears were indistinguishable from the rain drops that rolled down his face. She struggled to answer, but had no power to speak, and with her last bit of strength, leaned in just the slightest bit to touch her lips to his. He responded gently, summoning sweet memories, conveying them through the soft movement of his tongue. Those quiet afternoons spent walking in the park, the happy times where they just laughed and laughed at some forgotten joke, the kisses they'd share before, the fire, the electricity, all melding into this last final moment they'd share together. It ended all too soon, her head suddenly drooping back, fingers motionless in his palm. He didn't do anything except sit and stare, stroking her hair like he had done when she was alive. It felt like everything he was, his spirit, his strength, had disappeared with her. What was left was a broken shell. The other figure watched with little interest, staring down at the pair, cold eyes glistening. He walked over, but the boy's gaze remained locked on the girl. But he spoke, quietly, but the whisper still managed to reach the man standing next to him. "You killed her. Why?" "She was a traitor. A traitor deserves nothing more than death," answered the man coldly, glaring down with contempt. "She deserved it." The blond boy said nothing, continuing to stroke her light brown hair, fighting back the urge to break down, resisting the desire to slaughter the man beside him. He only thought one thing, a promise to the dead girl in his arms. I'll avenge you... I swear it.
    1 point
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