JAEGERRRR

"What is this?" My fingers shook as I stared at the envelope in my hands. Osa stood erect in front of me, panting slightly. Even from where he stood I could smell the sea on him. "Tell me, Osamaru. Why do I have your letter in my hands?" Some teardrops splattered on the asphalt in front of my feet. "I thought . . . I thought when you  receive your letter, you get the feeling. I have the feeling, but it's makes no sense. Why you? What do you have to tell me that couldn't have been said out loud?" "Please, Kia-" "What is so bad that you can't tell me to my face?" "Nothing!" Then why?" I screamed at him. I couldn't see Osa's face through t

“There was a boy . . . a very strange, enchanted boy . . . they say he wandered very far, very far over land and sea . . . a little shy and sad of eye but very wise was he. And then one day, a magic day, he passed my way . . . and while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me: ‘The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.’”  -Toulouse Up above a sign that says “Bar Absinthe” and through the window of the rundown “L’ament” garret, you’ll find a man named Gilbert Weillschmidt, who by now, probably has a beard. You see, inside

    "It's funny really. What you do is you take your letter, and just continue passing it on till someone opens it. But you have to get the feeling. It's the feeling brides get when they find their wedding dress. When you hold the letter, you'll know. Don't worry about who you hand it to. Here, this one is mine," he said, placing the light slip in my hand. "Now let fate take care of the rest."    I held it in my hand, and he just turned away, smiling to himself. I looked around for the nearest person. An old man was sweeping garbage into a tray in front of a deli shop. I ran over and thrust out the letter, startling him. I wasn't even sure

"Claire?" "Yeah?" I said. She stuck her tiny frame partially through the crack in the doorway. "Don't stay up too late. You have class tomorrow and I'm only driving by the printer's once." I stifled a yawn as I replied, "Yes mom, I'll go to bed soon." "Love you." "I love you too." If you're wondering what I was doing, I 'd spent the majority of the afternoon reading Lowell's Paradise Lost book. I had no idea what he was talking about when he said that there was nothing in here worth reading. The margin's were chock full of beautiful poems, notes about life, and helpful tips to living. Since I was returning the book tomorrow, I had reco

The surrounding air had become so blazing hot and arid from his flames that in order to breath I had to perform something between a pant and a cough. Smoke and steam stung my eyes and forced them to water.   “HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!” Maleficent roared in anguish. “YOU MUST BE HALF-DEAD BY NOW!’   I speared my sword into the ground like a stake and hauled myself upward, drawing little comfort from the familiar grip of its hilt.   “Maybe I am,” I gasped. “But until my armor melts and the bones of my body burn, I will never stop fighting for him. The prince deserves to live—“   I b

Mary looked at the man before her. He seemed quite older than her; she, a girl no older than fifteen years of age, and he, a tall, fit man of eighteen. He had hair blacker than darkness, and bright green and yellow eyes, the pupil’s narrow and thin like a cat’s. He wore dark green slacks and brown boots, bound with cloth. A pine green coat covered his bare chest. The strangest thing though, was that he was covered in scars, ugly Frankenstein scars that were thick and bumpy against his porcelain white skin. One stretched across his face underneath his right eye, down his neck, around and out of sight. “Who are you?” Ma

There are some days I feel like crying. I don’t know if its cause I’m weak, or want attention, but…I just don’t know. I feel like crying. An excuse a lot of people use at my age is its “hormones”. But trust me, you can tell what is and what isn’t if it happens enough to you. I try and cheer myself up, but I don’t know how. I’ve always wanted some kind of special secret, not an embarrassing one, or disgusting one. Just a private secret that is all my own and no one else’s. I haven’t found it yet, and maybe that’s why I’m so sad. Because every time I find a secret, s