HeatherSincerexX

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKk1u5RMTn4 D' you breathe the name of your saviour in your hour of need, And taste the blame if the flavor should remind you of greed? Of implication, insinuation and ill will, 'til you cannot lie still, In all this turmoil, before red cape and foil come closing in for a kill Come feed the rain 'cause I'm thirsty for your love dancing underneath the skies of lust Yeah, feed the rain 'cause without your love my life ain't nothing but this carnival of rust It's all a game, avoiding failure, when true colors will bleed All in the name of misbehavior and the things we don't need I lust for after no disa

The beginning of a short story based during the potato famine in the late 1800's. A boy is sent away from home as his parents encouraged him to work with farmers in Canada during this crisis. He was deported from England from an orphanage called "Home Child." Upon his departure, he meets a girl, whose name remains dormant as he does not find love, nor any promise to retrieve love on the ship. Although, he remembers her face, especially when she is diagnosed with Typhus and swooned into going to Gross Iles (sp?) on the edge of Quebec city. Her illness tears her away from him, and he is disposed to Staten island; a camp ground for Europeans to

A story I'm writing. The glow of the monitor stretched into the recesses of the room. The light touched the heads of the figures that stood concreted to the floor. Ahead, lines of grey sizzling across the screen cut through a face, glowering stagnant and morbid. Scanning left to right, his eyes probed the faces all lowered from his gaze, with shadows casting deep into their eye sockets. His shoulders rose as he brought his hand to adjust the tie wrapped around the drooping skin spilling off his neck. He cleared his throat. "Without further ado, would anyone here be so kind to explain to me why none of you have a viable answer as to why he