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Prologue

The sun is just minutos from rising and the night is growing lighter. An alter made entirely of blue marble, jade, and amethyst is illuminated. Two tiny bebés lie on parte superior, arriba writhing and screaming in discomfort. They are naked, only a few days old and the chill of the stone slowly seeping into their bones will surely kill them. The larger of the two will not stop screaming while her twin just sobs quietly.
Their frail mother stands a few feet away determined to finish what she came here to do but her eyes are bloodshot and red raw from her constant tears. But she is not alone. Her husband stands beside her a pillar of strength. The pair couldn’t be más different.
He has hair as red as the now rising sun and eyes as blue as the deepest ocean. He is stockily built with muscles straining to burst out of his clothes. A birthmark o perhaps a tattoo- half hidden por his clothes- runs down the side of his neck. It is césped, hierba green and seems to depict an upside-down triángulo, triángulo de with a line through it. An unusual choice for anyone let alone a man that looks as though he could rip your head off with his teeth.
His wife hides herself away in the protective arm he wraps round her. She is small, thin and mousy with lank, wispy, brown hair and pale, brown eyes. She seems to be constantly trembling from cold o fear and her skin is paper thin mostrando the outline of every bone. tu can see a pale lila tattoo on her left ankle almost exactly the same shape as her husband’s except it’s the right way up.
She’s still crying but her husband gives her a hard look and she hastily dries her tears. They turn and walk away leaving their children behind.
They remain stranded on the alter. They scream but there is no one to hear. But they have to keep crying. If they don’t they’ll die. First one girl goes silent then the other. The air is deathly cold.
It seems the twin’s fate is sealed but then a middle-aged man- maybe in his fifties- walks his dog por the clearing where the bebés lie. Hearing their screams he gives a gasp of surprise and rushes over to them, his blue eyes wide.
Cradling them to his chest he looks desperately around for someone, their mother perhaps, anyone to tell him what to do. But the clearing is deserted. So Sam (for that was his name) had no choice but to take them inicial to his wife. She would be angry, he knew but he had no choice. He couldn’t just abandon them, not when their own parents had already done so.
Sam was terrified of is wife. He was ashamed to admit it but it was the cruel truth. He was scared of his own wife. Bertha was big with huge beefy arms and huge rolls of fat spilling over her tight floral skirts and bulging beneath her worn apron. Her hair was in blonde curls that were hair sprayed within an inch of their life and her face was a ruddy red. She liked everything just so and always immaculately clean. If something wasn’t up to her high standards then Sam knew he would get the sharp edge of her tongue.
Of course he knew he could leave whenever he wished- Bertha was never violent she just shouted a lot- But he loved her. She had a soft corazón under all that bluster and she was an amazing cook besides. So he stayed. But god knows what she would say when he brought two stray children home.
He couldn’t fathom how someone could just run off and abandon their kids like that, he had always longed for kids but Bertha was unable to give him any due to her being born with no womb. Sam had known these girls all of five minutos and he already loved them as though they really were his own. He could only hope Bertha would too. Juggling both the dog and the bebés nestled inside his capa Sam hurried inicial before they all died of cold.
Script Secrets - Full Film Courage Interview with William C. Martell at Story Expo 2014 via link For más videos, please visit link
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Screenwriting: An Example Of A Wounded Hero dado A Chance To Change por Peter Russell at Story Expo 2014 via link más 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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escritura
autor
book
911
michael hingson
world trade center
guide dog
roselle
twin towers
terrorist
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 minutos he arrives home. I grin and open the door like a lady for him.
"Thank you, Arissa," he respuestas 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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