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posted by ashleigh-jadee
It was a winter’s morning when Nicola realised something strange. It was a peculiar morning, yet she didn’t understand why.
    Nicola called her mum from her bedroom, but she got no reply. She tried a sekunde time, and even third time lucky. Yet Nicola still got no reply.
    Finally, after a few dakika of what was an eerie silence, she jumped out of her kitanda and ran across to her mum’s bedroom. She flung the door open with such force that it made a loud bang, scaring herself at first for sure.
    Nicola took a glance at the bed. It seemed as if no one had slept in it all night. The kitanda covers and sheets were neatly laid down, there wasn’t a single crease.
    She walked back to her bedroom, worried and confused. Thoughts were racing around her mind as she tried to focus and concentrate. She picked up her dressing kanzu, gown when all of a sudden, her phone started ringing. She looked at the caller’s name. “Ella” she muttered to herself as she answered the phone.
    “Hey Nicola” Ella said, rather happily too.
    “Hi Ella, what wewe ringing me at this time for?” asked Nicola, curiously.
    There was a silent pause for a few sekunde as Nicola patiently waited for Ella to reply.    
    “This morning, I woke up. My mum’s usually up before I am. I went downstairs… and no one was there!” Ella exclaimed, pausing for a moment. Ella went on to say, “Maybe our parents have… vanished?”
    Ella had a huge grin on her face. At the other end of the phone, Nicola wasn’t too sure about that idea as it worried her a little. There was a long silence at first. After half an hour, Ella put the phone down after successfully reassuring Nicola that everything would be fine.    
    That same siku 1pm, Nicola and Ella decided to meet up at the park. They got there quite soon.
    The park was silent; wewe could only just hear the whistling through the bushes and the trees.
    Ella sat on a bench outside of the park and Nicola followed straight after her, sitting beside her. It was quite cold and frosty and the ice cold wind was blowing against the girls faces.
    Nicola coughed. Then she alisema “What if what wewe alisema was true? Maybe all the adults in the country have really….vanished?!”
    Ella thought for a moment. Then she smiled. She turned to Nicola as they both looked at each and grinned, as if kusoma each other’s thoughts.
    After a few dakika of their silence, Ella suddenly said, “I have an idea.” She grinned, a big grin too.
    “Go on, what is it?!” Nicola eagerly asked. She had her eyes locked on Ella, waiting for her reply. Her eyes were wide open.
    “Let’s go take a look at the shops, down town! I know, I know, I know, wewe might not think it’s the most exciting thing in the world. But come on!” Ella replied, still grinning.
    Nicola paused for a moment and had a think. She didn’t really like shopping, especially for clothes. She was definitely not one of the girly type. But Ella seemed to upendo it, for whatever reason.
Screenwriting: An Example Of A Wounded Hero aliyopewa A Chance To Change kwa Peter Russell at Story Expo 2014 via link zaidi video interviews at link
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added by MirabelleBevan
A story of the human animal bond and the story of a guide dog that was in the World Trade Center when it was attacked on 9/11
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uandishi
mwandishi
book
911
michael hingson
world trade center
guide dog
roselle
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added by shubzGswag
added by Trentdalton
added by axemnas
added by pport
added by TheKingsWard12
added by TheKingsWard12
added by ZekiYuro
added by 241098
added by 241098
added by 241098
added by segafan
added by segafan
added by SymmaGirl2
posted by amoremusic
Please tell me why do people tend to always harshly judge me for my creative moments and seem to enjoy criticizing me for the emotional material that I write down on paper, they never once see the real person that i would, could be, some-how they never ever see the deepening convictions that surrounds me and my soul.

They try to take control of every-little thing that i say and even write out, but i'm not ashamed to really tell them how i really feel about having this empty-longing to try to expose myself, to let the world see me for who i am from the inside out.
how can they not see my heart...
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posted by shenelopefan
Personalidad

"-Yo sé que lo puedo hacer- dijo Tom Downey,

Mientras se servía otra mazorca de maíz del bol

Humeante… -Estoy seguro de que con el tiempo la

Muerte de ella será un misterio, incluso para mí-"

Secret Window, Secret Garden

Stephen King

-Calma, Andy. Eso no ha sido real- me dije a mí mismo, mientras encendía un cigarrillo nerviosamente. –Ha sido un sueño. Sí, sólo una horrible pesadilla.

No podía evitarlo, pero mis manos temblaban. El placer norma del cigarrillo no calmaba mis nervios. No podía haber sido cierto. Era imposible. Yo estaba en mi jardín, sentía como el aire...
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posted by flabaloobalah
I glance at my watch. It reads quarter past ten. I sigh and tap my feet impatiently.
I remind myself that Daddy's only human. Still I lift the curtains, expecting his Escalade to rumble down the drive and park, but it hasn't. I mean, how long can it take a fully grown man to buy a dozen eggs?
After another ten dakika he arrives home. I grin and open the door like a lady for him.
"Thank you, Arissa," he majibu coolly. I close the pristine white door behind him and lightly walk upstairs. I turn to the right and walk another seventeen steps to my bedroom. I throw open the door and settle into...
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Why Every Writer Should Use uandishi Prompts - Jonathan Blum via FilmCourage.com.
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