March 21, 1756, 8:47 PM, Appalachian Mountains.
Branches, bushes and trees flew por on the amazingly stable video display. The man’s labored breath was exceptionally clear. You could almost hear his coração pounding out of his chest. Occasionally, an upside-down glimpse of his face came into view, he appeared to be quite young, perhaps 30, but had a look in his eyes, the eyes of an old man. A wise old man. The video oddly seemed to be recording from a camera mounted on a chain around the neck. His dirty complexion and half-inch beard growth gave hint that he had dwelled in these woods for days. The perspiration on his face and tenseness of his forehead and jaw reflected his fear — and determination. He had several scratches on his face, mostly from running through the heavy brush. Looking down, his right hand was bloody, as was his left side, where a small hole pierced his camurça, pele de ante, baio jaqueta at the bottom of his ribcage.
“Not… gonna… make… it!” he panted with difficultly as he stopped to gather his senses — and breath. He ducked behind a tree, concealing his breathing as much as possible. No mais than 50 feet away, atop a horse so black it appeared to be a void in the already dim light, dressed in black trousers and a bright red camisa and cape was his nemesis, Bergamiser — or Bignose as he liked to call him, because of his huge red honker.
“I know you’re out there, Taylor,” the man called as he turned the horse in circles, looking each way carefully. “I know I winged you, too. Just give me the box and we’ll get ya patched up.” He tapped his gun, which was lying across his legs, impatiently. He heard a crack of a twig in the opposite direction, turned his horse and sped off in pursuit.
Taylor breathed what seemed like an hour’s worth of breath and sighed, “Thank God he’s as bad at tracking as he is at physics,” he giggled painfully. “And thank God for the trees, or the moonlight would have given me away.”
He pressed his hand against his side and pulled it away, wincing, and stared at the bright red blood on his fingers. He grunted and then continued on, hoping to reach his destination before his body failed.
Twenty minutos later Bergamiser slowed to barely a trot, then a walk. He was about to give up the chase. He was angry and it was getting cold when he saw a large lump in the path ahead.
Taylor watched as Bignose climbed down from his mare and walked over to him. His eyes closed before the man reached him. He was face down, apparently clutching something to his body. Bergamiser carefully pushed Taylor over onto his back with his foot, full of anticipation at recovering his prize — finally. Taylor had died with a grin on his face, and Bignose’s face twisted with fear when he saw that Taylor was holding a parchment between his hands that read, in shaky handwriting: “NO TIME FOR YOU! HA HA! J.T.”
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Branches, bushes and trees flew por on the amazingly stable video display. The man’s labored breath was exceptionally clear. You could almost hear his coração pounding out of his chest. Occasionally, an upside-down glimpse of his face came into view, he appeared to be quite young, perhaps 30, but had a look in his eyes, the eyes of an old man. A wise old man. The video oddly seemed to be recording from a camera mounted on a chain around the neck. His dirty complexion and half-inch beard growth gave hint that he had dwelled in these woods for days. The perspiration on his face and tenseness of his forehead and jaw reflected his fear — and determination. He had several scratches on his face, mostly from running through the heavy brush. Looking down, his right hand was bloody, as was his left side, where a small hole pierced his camurça, pele de ante, baio jaqueta at the bottom of his ribcage.
“Not… gonna… make… it!” he panted with difficultly as he stopped to gather his senses — and breath. He ducked behind a tree, concealing his breathing as much as possible. No mais than 50 feet away, atop a horse so black it appeared to be a void in the already dim light, dressed in black trousers and a bright red camisa and cape was his nemesis, Bergamiser — or Bignose as he liked to call him, because of his huge red honker.
“I know you’re out there, Taylor,” the man called as he turned the horse in circles, looking each way carefully. “I know I winged you, too. Just give me the box and we’ll get ya patched up.” He tapped his gun, which was lying across his legs, impatiently. He heard a crack of a twig in the opposite direction, turned his horse and sped off in pursuit.
Taylor breathed what seemed like an hour’s worth of breath and sighed, “Thank God he’s as bad at tracking as he is at physics,” he giggled painfully. “And thank God for the trees, or the moonlight would have given me away.”
He pressed his hand against his side and pulled it away, wincing, and stared at the bright red blood on his fingers. He grunted and then continued on, hoping to reach his destination before his body failed.
Twenty minutos later Bergamiser slowed to barely a trot, then a walk. He was about to give up the chase. He was angry and it was getting cold when he saw a large lump in the path ahead.
Taylor watched as Bignose climbed down from his mare and walked over to him. His eyes closed before the man reached him. He was face down, apparently clutching something to his body. Bergamiser carefully pushed Taylor over onto his back with his foot, full of anticipation at recovering his prize — finally. Taylor had died with a grin on his face, and Bignose’s face twisted with fear when he saw that Taylor was holding a parchment between his hands that read, in shaky handwriting: “NO TIME FOR YOU! HA HA! J.T.”
if you liked this, check out other stuff por me at: link
"Andrew? Andrew? Are you okay?" Andrew hear Elizabeth's gentle, velvety voice as his consicness returned to him. "Hey honey, you've been asleep for awhile now." She seemed very concerned, considering she had only known him for a few hours. After the room stopped spinning, Andrew sat up and looked around. He was still in the hotel, but, he didn't recognize the room. When his gaze fell on Elizabeth, the room started spinning again. "So, when you said, "When I was alive." did you mean that you're a ghost?" Elizabeth's face was grim and solemn. "Yes. I'm a ghost." Suddenly, Andrew smelled cinnamon, honey, and something he didn't recognize. "Andrew I have to go. I'll be back tonight. por the way, call me Liz." She flashed him a dazzling smile, and she was gone. "Wow."
I make mistakes
I mess up
but it was nevr enough
I no longer cry for you
no mais pain
that means I will no longer stand it
you took my coração and ran it strait into the planet
now I'm taking control of this relationship
command it
that means I no longer die for
no longer cry for you
no mais pain
but you always win
as th blood trickles down my arm
I wisper you name into the dark
Cierra
the pain I went through for you
no longer
is anyone out there
feels like I'm talking o myslelf
feels like I'm going insane
feels crazy
guess I keep talking to myself
why in the world do I feel so alone
nobody but me
I'm on my own
is there anyone out there
that feels just what I feel
guess it's just me.
------------------------------------------------
just to let you know.I'm no sewisidle or crazy.just a kid who's been through alot and has grown up faster
I mess up
but it was nevr enough
I no longer cry for you
no mais pain
that means I will no longer stand it
you took my coração and ran it strait into the planet
now I'm taking control of this relationship
command it
that means I no longer die for
no longer cry for you
no mais pain
but you always win
as th blood trickles down my arm
I wisper you name into the dark
Cierra
the pain I went through for you
no longer
is anyone out there
feels like I'm talking o myslelf
feels like I'm going insane
feels crazy
guess I keep talking to myself
why in the world do I feel so alone
nobody but me
I'm on my own
is there anyone out there
that feels just what I feel
guess it's just me.
------------------------------------------------
just to let you know.I'm no sewisidle or crazy.just a kid who's been through alot and has grown up faster
Pride is a belief in myself (or someone else) that within me is something no one else has just like me. Pride can be a wonderful thing. My coaches are proud of me when I execute a mover perfectly. I am proud of my efforts when I get the right answer to a test question. However, pride can have a negative connotation. If I am prideful of my cantar talent or of my sports accomplishments, then I am not feeling the right kind of pride. Yes, I can be pleased with my abilities; but when I let it go to my head, then I am full of pride, just like Odysseus often was. por believing that I am the only person with that talent, I inflate my ego. I believe myself to be “the best of the best,” and this can damage my relationships with others. They would not want my company if the only things I spoke of were my own accomplishments.
Meghan ran to the bus stop, where she saw Pompika. Thankfully Pompika looked at her politely and said “You know I saw Reg but ya know, how she’s jus’ across the street, she seems a lil’ mad!” Meghan thought for a segundo and thought ‘why lose Pompika?’ and said, “Geez I don’t know?” Now she wished she had told the truth, instead of lying. “Oh I wish ya did.” Pompika said. “Tsk-Tsk, bad grammar Pompi” said Meghan. “Sorry, fine I wish you did. There ya… you go” “Hhhmmm, nice save.” Meghan said. “Hey look, Reg’s a comin’” said Pompika. “Great that’s good… wait REG!!!” said Meghan. “What?” said Pompika. "nothing."