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Perfidous to Prom Last night I watched Frank Darabont's The Mist, written by the wonderful Stephen King, and read a bit of a novel called The Long Walk, also by Stephen King. I enjoyed a few piece of French toast and sausage, and had a glass of mixed juice.Perfidous to Prom by ~ickyickyickyahtoo
All while this was going on, the Solvay High School Prom was being held, attended my the majority of my peers. I had previously said I would not go, and for very good reason.
The prom is said to be a very "special" event, and that I should attend it, because it is my "prom", but what is prom, actually? It's a room full of sweaty individuals who dance as if they've lost
Men of Miracles I rember it like it was yesterday, and I remember it as well: it was on a Friday.Men of Miracles by ~ickyickyickyahtoo
I was laying down on my bed, whistling the melody to Mozart's Symphony in G Minor. I can't remember which number opus it was, for he wrote more than twenty-five symphonies. Of that I'm sure.
All at once, I heard a crashing noise, and felt the bits of glass land on me. There was a small stone on my chest; someone had thrown it through the window.
I sprung to my feet and stuck my head out of the window, fixing my gaze to the forest clearing afar.
In the distance, I could see a man with dark hair. He was so far w
Sta.sh
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WAPOW!