Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Chapter 3

The man with the red scar at his face was called Ivan. Twenty years ago, he used to live with his father in the same shack where he lives no

live by a lake also arranding fresh flowers and grapevine wreaths would like a name that fits into setting, rustic also have houseplant care. something different and classey

I did this just now, as a way of getting rid of writer’s block, but if people find it interesting I might finish it as an actual story. Here goes:

The door of the bar swung open. A man in a big coat stepped in. His collar was pulled up to his neck, hiding half his face, and the tilted hat on top of his head concealed the rest. He stalked up to the front of the bar, leaning over the counter.
“Can I help you?” The bartender asked.
The man’s voice was low and rough. “I’m looking for a Seth Fairweater.”
The bartender raised a hand from the cup he was wiping and jabbed a thumb toward a corner of the bar. There were three tables. One was empty, the next was crammed with drunk men and women, and the last had only one occupant – a tall boy. The boy was in his late teens, with tousled black hair and eyes darkened from lack of sleep.
The man in the coat crossed the room to the boy, his boots clacking against the wooden floor.
“Seth Fairweather?” He said again, looking down.
The boy looked up from his drink. “Yes?”
“My name is Jack the Ripper. I’ve come to kill you.”
“Oh.” The boy said. He paused. “I’m not sure how to reply to that.”
“That’s fine – just die!”
The man tore a cleaver from his pocket and swung it. The boy cursed, ducking down and rolling under it. It sliced the top of his chair off, sending a chunk of wood spinning through the air.
“Stay in one place!” The man shouted.
“Like hell I will!” The boy scuttled across the floor of the bar as the man brandished his weapon. Chairs were sliced, the free table was smashed and two drunken women screamed as the man and boy tumbled between them. Finally, the boy was cornered. He was pinned against the far wall, with the exit on the opposite end of the bar. The man in the coat stepped forward.
“There’s nowhere to run.” He said. “Goodbye, Fairweather.”
The boy muttered something beneath his breath. It sounded like “I hate doing this.”
He reached for his pocket, producing a slim knife. As the man in the coat swung his cleaver the boy shot forward, slashing the knife across the man’s neck. It melted straight through his collar, slitting his throat. The man staggered forward, gurgling, and collapsed in a heap on the ground.
The boy looked down at him, then turned and began back in the direction of his seat.
He stopped. Up ahead he saw the drunken men and women staring at him in horror. Of course, he’d just slit a man’s throat. But something was wrong. Slowly, he realized that they were looking behind him.
He spun around. The man was on his feet. His jacket hung open, and his hat had fallen from his head. Underneath, his hair was black as night, and his skin was pale as snow. His pupils were blood red – slitted, like a cat’s. His mouth opened in a razor-toothed grin. The wound across his neck slowly sealed itself.
“Bravo!” He shouted. “This is exactly what I want! This is why I came for you!”
The boy scowled. “Vampire…”
“Seth Fairweather, the most dangerous boy alive!” The man said, twirling his cleaver. “Let’s paint this bar red, shall w–“
He didn’t get a chance to finish. In that instant the knife shot from the boy’s hand. It plunged straight into the man’s heart. He stared, his mouth still open, a look of surprise on his face.
Then his body went black, and crumbled to dust.
The knife clattered loudly onto ground.
Seth Fairweather slid down to the floor against the wall. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, looking at the ceiling.
“So they’ve found me.”

another poem based off an original, this one’s based on Where I’m From by Ella Lyon

I am from black coffee mornings
from pancakes and scrambled eggs
I am from the bradford pear
with it’s strong monkey-bar limbs
and the perfect chair built in
I am from cardboard box forts
on hot summer afternoons
with doors cut just for my size

I’m from dress up and Thomas the Train
from baby-dolls and the cleanup song
I’m from early baths and Disney movies
a new one every night
I’m from animal crackers and the big blue Book of Virtues
the stories inside I now by heart

I’m from getting inches and taking miles
from early mornings and late nights
I’m from grandmas house and buttermilk biscuits
from thousand piece puzzles and witches brew
I’m from friendly hellos and lengthy goodbyes
the last minute flash of a sign-language "I Love You"

what do you think about this one?

I have been looking all over ottawa and I can’t find decently priced pieces, they all come in sets. anyone have any suggestions?

I am looking for a rustic cabin rental or a campground close to a State or National park. The cabin/campground needs to be dog friendly as I’d like to bring my dog. I am not only looking for a recomendation for Cabin/camping, my goal is to do a lot of hiking as well so the park is just as important. Please let me know if you have any recomendations.

Today one was adressing the lower people of Dorksville and telling them how wonderful I am, then suddenly one of the maids came to me in tears and said "Please my Lord I think I broke my ankle, please take me to the hospital" so I said "Insolent woman can’t thou see one is in the middle of a speech here!" and she said "but please it’s important" so I said "womenfolk art not important go back to the kitchen sit on a stool and cook, and thou art lucky I’m even letting you sit today!" then suddenly the people of Dorksville started saying BOOOOOOOO so I turned to her and said "Look what you have done they are booing you because you interrupted my speech!"

I say can thou believe the nerve of her to upset not only me but also the people of Dorksville?

My boyfriend does not drink at home and only drinks when he goes out with his friends, but most times when my boyfriend goes out, he gets smashed, to the point where someone has to help him into the house.

A couple of months ago, we had a series of weddings and birthdays to attend. At a birthday party, he got really drunk, almost got into a fight with someone in a bar. At a wedding, he got really really drunk, made a little scene and passed out again when he got home. A week later at another wedding where he was a groomsman, he got so drunk that he made a scene, threw chairs, and some other stuff.

Now, after the last wedding, he said he was never going to get like that again (upon threat of a break up). Since then, he hasn’t drank, which I was really proud of and happy for. I knew that he would eventually drink again, but I thought he would be better.
Last night, we went to dinner with his bro and cousin, we had a few drinks and then went back to his house and (cont.)
and he had a few more drinks with his brother. After than, he was pretty buzzed and went out with his friends that same night to go drink.
I get a call at 5 am from his friend saying that he’s passed out and he needs somewhere to stay. So he comes over and we both have to carry him in my house.

Now he tells me today that he had no more than 2 drinks and he got that drunk from what he drank prior to that.

I am upset that he drank to that point and am concerned that he is turning into an alcoholic. But he doesn’t drink unless he goes out.

He doesn’t think anything is wrong with it and that I am over reacting. Also, the fact that I bring up what happened at the wedding is like throwing it in his face.
I dont want to break up with him so please don’t tell me that.

His arguement is that he was well behaved, didn’t fight, and had a DD.
Mine is that his first time out should not have lead to passing out, that he should have showed me he can not reach that point.
I am concerned that this will lead to alcoholism and that he is so easy to dismiss passing out yesterday.

I’m looking for 3 seperate songs– all featured on commercials. ANy help is appreciated– thanks!
1. University of Phoenix – chorus goes "hey-nah, hey nah, hey nahhh, heyyy naaaaaahhhhhhh……."
2. CLorox wipes – cute baby in a high chair. the background music sounds like iron & wine or interpol (but that’s just a guess)
3.Miller lite – old time b/w photos of friends @ a bar with these lyrics "angels watching us…. strong as the sun"

be like a tarp that covers a bicycle. If so where are they sold? And how much do they cost?

ok so im moving out and i made a checklist of everything i need. is there anything you forgot or that you find very helpful in your home?

kitchen:
pots and pans
baking dishes
cookie sheets
cupcake pans
serving dishes
plates and bowls
silverwear
cups
coffee cups
storage containers for food
serving utensils
knife set
kitchen scissors
can opener
mixing bowls
coffee maker
microwave
electric mixer
blender
croc pot
toaster oven
water pitcher
cutting boards

bedroom:
bed
dresser
sheets
hamper
pillows
matress cover
blankets
down blanket
alarm clock
night stand
lamps
hangers

bathroom:
rugs
towels and washcloths
soap pump
over the door towel rack
shower curtain and liner
tooth brush holder
hair dryer
straightener

living area:
couch
chair
floor lamp
coffee table
window coverings
frames
candles
tv entertainment center
dvd player
tv
extension cords
book case
desk
chair
computer
printer
shredder
waste basket
desk lamp
message board

other:
laundry baskets
iron and ironing bored
step stool
first aid kit
broom and dustpan
swiffer
vaccum
mats for the door
toilet bowl brush
plunger

thanks!

At the time there was a lot of open bigotry among the NYPD and the gay population. They are arresting anyone who was suspected of "gay behavior" in public and shutting down many gay hang-outs.

The Stone-Wall incident was when the police raided this gay bar and started beating a few people with night-sticks. When people were being brought to the squad cars, bar patrons started throwing bottles and chairs at the police and the violence led to the streets.

It is held in the gay community as an honorable day but I wanted to know if the police today think the same thing. Is violence against the police ever "ok"?

Please help heres the poss answers:
a. bandwagon—the idea that “everybody” does this or believes this
b. categorical statements—stating something in a way that implies there
can be no argument or disagreement on the issue
c. personal attack—criticizing an opponent personally instead of rationally
debating his or her ideas
d. testimonial—quoting or paraphrasing an authority or celebrity to support
one’s own viewpoint

The quest:
6. Victims have absolutely no rights at all.
7. Everyone agrees that victim reforms are false promises made by legislators
seeking to please voters worried about crime.
8. The victims’ rights movement developed because victims of crime felt they
had no rights in the criminal justice system.
9. Thurgood Marshall, a pro-criminal, bleeding-heart liberal, considers the
harm a victim suffered irrelevant in a criminal trial.
10. As Justice John Paul Stevens correctly points out, the defendant should
have more rights than the state in a criminal trial.
11. Victim impact statements force juries to base their decisions on emotion
rather than on objective facts.
12. As Deborah Kelly, chair of the American Bar Association’s Victims’ Committee,
accurately concludes, victims’ satisfaction with the criminal justice
system depends more on how they were treated than how severely their
assailants were punished.