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Romance. The lights went out. A silent wind swept the crowd. Expectation

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´╗┐The lights went out. A silent wind swept the crowd. Expectation- no it might as well be called intoxication- rattled the rickety gates; demanding. A need for effect? a want to be moved, rudely expressed by the audience for their money?s worth to be paid. The stage?s lights sparkled in midnight. The crowd screamed. Layer over layer, the noise propagated; fuming with excitement. All the bottled feelings of these estranged individuals found their voices here: shaking, blending; synchronized. The ringing persists in your ears for much than what amount the air can carry. A muffled ecstasy runs through your veins. Fulfillment! Lights? screen? music. An enlightened presentiment. The pulse resonates in the arena. ...read more.


Silent enjoyment of an admirer?s advances and the vigor to resist them; or the stubbornness of greed overtaking: I had to choose. ?Let it rest,? I thought, ?enough!? Stay; stay? oh yearning! Only conflict can arouse this wasted battlefield. I had to go outside. I pushed my way through the darkened figures that sprawled the moss pit. They had been unwelcoming to this of course. But it was only the prologue? there was much more to look forward to. ?Not for me though,? I mused, smirking. One tiny obstacle in their long journey? a little stepping stone would only serve to expound the servile pleasure of reaching their destination. ?But what lies at the end of your journey? Peace? Quiet? Your demise or?? Splash! Pitter? pitter? pitter. Sticky tears squirted from my drenched jacket. ...read more.


Ugh! My back still felt eerie. I recollected my courage. ?Are those the kind of words you should use in your situation?? ?They are words. If not, what is?? ?I AM SORRY.? She was taken aback. Building on this momentum, I continued, ?One would think you were actually the victim.? She turned scarlet. ?And was it my fault some idiot was trying to leave before the prologue even finished?? I couldn?t retort. ?You must really think highly of yourself: forcing your whims on people like that.? I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me short with a wave of her hand. ?Anyway? for the jacket, I?ll pay the cleaning bill. This is my number.? She dictated unto the palm of my hand. Parting with which, she vanished into the darkness. I clasped my hand and squeezed it. ?This might just turn out interesting?? ...read more.

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