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Tumultuous Music The building rang with a magnificent noise. The choir sang, the band and orchestra played, and the conductor gesticulated wildly. My very bones vibrated with the sound and I sat trembling from the power of it all.Tumultuous Music by ~BellaVDashwood
It seemed unlikely to me that teenage boys in poorly fitted tuxedos and young women in unflattering, matched dresses could be the source of such inspiring music. In my awe, I wondered absently what the foreign lyrics might mean; the words sounded strange to my ear and I could not even determine the language.
The voices built—the song not even at its climax yet—the bass line keeping a low steady beat, tenors moving double
The Aftermath The Aftermath Version 1The Aftermath by ~BellaVDashwood
Sure that my partner was—finally—sleeping, I rolled silently out of bed and started collecting my clothes. Dark as it was, I had some trouble distinguishing my clothes from his. I tried to stay quiet, picking through the fabric that littered his bedroom. I eventually found my nylons, shoes, underwear, skirt, even my bra (which somehow ended up on the back of the door).
I checked the whole room twice before pausing, confused. Where the hell had my shirt gone?
The Aftermath Version 2
I waited, lying still in the darkness for my one-night stand to fall asleep. When his breathing finally slowed and evened, I
Revised-Fourth of July Schemes The glare of sunlight off the water blinded Samantha for a moment before she remembered to slide her dark glasses onto her face. Out on the dock, a handful of teenage boys—her cousins and their friends—were messing with bottle rockets, ground blooms and smoke bombs. In the deep water around the floating swim dock a few yards away from the young pyromaniacs, the girls their age splashed, swam, tanned and talked, occasionally rebuking the boys if a firework strayed too close.Revised-Fourth of July Schemes by ~BellaVDashwood
On the narrow, sandy beach and in the water that reached no higher than Samantha's waist, her oldest cousins (the ones with small children) were showing the bab
We Always Learn the Hard Way I've always wanted to askWe Always Learn the Hard Way by *Dametora
A Muslim,
"What is it like to feel the searing burn of scorn?"
I've always wanted to ask
An immigrant,
"What is it like to be second-class?"
I've always wanted to ask
The disabled man,
"What was it like to be a lesser being?"
I've always wanted to ask
An old woman,
"What was it like to have no place?"
I've always wanted to ask
The elderly black,
"What was it like during the Civil Rights era?"
I've always wanted to ask
Elie Wiesel,
"What was it like in Nazi Germany?"
"How did you feel?"
Since I met you,
I don't need to ask anymore.
I know.
Overwhelmed 
| No, that is not a random creeper behind me, curiously wearing formalwear. That was my prom date. |
hi, I love you 
Thanks for the fav! 
Sta.sh
