I woke up and applied my clown makeup with a careful hand. “Society is going to hate this so much,” I said with a comical grin before putting on my 3-piece purple suit that doesn’t fit right. After double-checking my blue eye-liner in the mirror, I walked out the door, passing my poorly developed love-interest in the process.

You and your beloved fuzzy friends deserve to live in a world free of those who claim the dogs are better. It is certain that cats are far superior and that they will inherit the universe in centuries following the demise of man and dog-kind. We will show the others that no one can stop us.

“Aaaaaaah,” the little lad screamed.

“Aaaaaaah?” irrelevant side character questioned?

“Aaaaaaah.” The little lad screamed again

“Aaaaaaah…” another irrelevant side character sighed.

Once upon a time, an apple fell off a tree onto Isaac Newton's head. No, not the Isaac Newton you're thinking of. Isaac Newton, owner at Newton firms where they grew any type of apple you could think of. The new apple was the kind where when you bit into it, it just turned to dust.

Bees buzzed in the distance, while a yeti’s stomach grew louder in hunger. He knew he shouldn't – the countless times he's been to the made-up-animal-hospital rendered in his mind – but they looked too appetizing. They were a whole damn meal… The white crunch of their wings and the fuzzy aftertaste; he knew what he had to do.

I wake up every day asking myself, why does God hate me. Let me explain what happened. So, it is a normal Monday, and I am heading to school and all of that. Nothing crazy happens, I just cross the street and head down the road for like five minutes then I am done. I mean sure I did step on this weird star in a circle, but like I said, whatever.

When we were younger

Laughter and fun warmed the air

Like heat from a Summer sun

Brighter than our fears, it was our whole world

Like Magic, our memories of youth

Glow brighter than stars

There’s nothing that matches the feeling of hands gliding across a piano:

running through a river of notes, creating whirlpools of melodies,

and finding solace in the darkness and waterfalls of notes.

Control is forsaken in the quiet of the afternoon,

There is a woman who lurks in the shadows

She finds comfort within the darkness

It does not judge her

It does not expose her insecurities

The darkness protects her from the harshness of the light

Who knows the difference between wrong and right?

The yellow light’s directly on my face.

Who knows what monster I’ll become tonight.

The full moon hanging in the sky is bright;

It takes my strength to keep me in my place.

Who knows the difference between wrong and right.

Let me meet a sylph

Creativity and song flowing

With my notepad and quill

The airy wind blowing

Let her inspire me,

Guide my pens,

Lead me, oh how I plead

Give me words, take my sense

Water is warm and lands softly

On my face, my hair.

It is soft and gentle on

Everything it touches,

Leaving the world gleaming quietly.

It patters as it falls into my bucket,

The loudest sound there is.

Every day you woke up

And loved me like a chore

I don’t think you realize

I know I was a bore

Every day I loved you

I waited by your class

But if I didn’t call to you

You’d just let me pass

What is love?

Is a desperate promise you’re too scared to break?

Is it a feeling so rich and pure you’ll never really understand it?

Or is it something else?

I’d like to be held by him

Not just because I’m feeling blue

But because his arms feel safe

And his voice is worth sleeping to

I’d like to curl up next to him

Not just for his attention

But feeling his body next to mine

Is my own comfy pocket dimension

He was like the dark of night, with its depth covering and surrounding me, just like his arms, shielding me from fear and cold. The stars littering the sky were like the freckles that littered his face, and the moon was his smile; soft, mysterious, and comforting. Most would compare someone’s presence to the sun, warm and inviting, and would be offended to be compared to the night, its chill unnerving.

I would like to begin by saying that my upbringing in the cathedral has not been pleasant.

There are rats in the walls– so many that when you finally lay in bed after a hard day’s of work, you lie awake due to the everlasting sound of their skittering. The only chances of the cats catching the rats is if the rats come out from the walls and into the rooms or hallways, but they have become smarter over generations.

Hello, my name is Nigel Evans, and this is my story of the iPhone 9. I have been a dedicated Apple products user for many years now. From Macintosh to iMac and iPod to iPhone, I have always been there for every new release. Hell, I can even be considered an Apple expert. I do a ton of research on all of the products Apple offers, and I know everything from the year it was created to its display and build and all of its inner workings.

No, he has no conscience, he thinks, climbing back out the window. It’s the only reason he’s still alive. He thinks he’d like to have one, sometimes, just to know what it’s like. But he knows it would probably kill him, feeling guilt over what he does. It’s easier this way.

Lay sticks the weapon in his belt and grips the top of the window frame, pushing off.

"What do you want for Christmas this year?" Mom asked. She shoved a catalog in front of me, full of colorful pictures of toys and games, and words too big for me to read.

"Do you want this doll?" she pointed to one of the pictures. "It comes with a special purple hairbrush." It did look like a nice doll, with three sets of clothes, and long golden locks for brushing. But another toy on the page distracted me.