She lay down on the wet stone floor of the alleyway covered in her own blood. She knows it is hers because she isn’t smirking like the man above her. He isn’t showing any signs of giving up. She is, though. She is exhausted from fighting him off. Minutes seem to be hours. Her tight fitting dress doesn’t seem so beautiful anymore. It is wet, covered in dirt and her
Note: Names have been changed to protect the identity of the people in this story. Everyone at work spoke a lot about Mesh and her abilities. I was always curious to find out more, as I was a firm believer of the spirit world and still am. It was 2010 and after a few years of running off the tracks, I needed something to put me back on them stably.
I can’t remember the first time I heard Miami to Atlanta, but it did come at a perfect time. It was a horrible year that 2008, where I saw the word ‘depression’ being written out by my doctor. I suffered the biggest blow and many more were to follow. After ending my two year streak of unhappiness in one department, a domino effect occurred where I became unhappy with the
“Pou eime?” “Ti?” “Pou eime?” I hesitated to give any response to the question for a few seconds, but I finally answered. “Spiti?” My answer was in itself a question. After living in this house for six years why is my father asking me where we are? We are sitting on the badly torn leather couches that are covered in this horrible grey colour that he bought, aren’t we? The