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USER: - Artsy
SEEKING? - I'm willing to be contacted. Not exactly sure if I want to jump into a roleplay yet, since I still feel a bit new. OPEN TO CRITIQUE? - Yes. Definite yes. PROMPT-CODE: Character prompt A, OC, Female SAMPLE IS AS FOLLOWS: You are the princess/prince of a small country. You deeply love your country and are willing to do very nearly anything for it - even at the expense of your own wishes and desires... Quote:
Edit: oh man, its been a while since I rp'd. The mulan story is based on the story concept that I thought up a while ago, but now its finally coming into fruition. Maybe I should start roleplaying again. To better my writing skills. Or to just unleash whatever imaginative juice I have. :DDD I'm sorta pleased with myself, for coming up with such a detailed entry. Never thought that I had it in me. |
USER: Wavi
SEEKING ROLEPLAYS: Can contact via PM. OPEN TO CRITIQUE: Yes. Feel free to rip it to pieces. PROMPT-CODE: J1e SAMPLE IS AS FOLLOWS: "Code Red. I repeat, Code Red."PROMPT-CODE: J1e J -- He was an amazing agent/assassin. Couldn't advance or quit without gaining power. To get said power, he had to kill the devil's daughter. 1 -- He ended up breaking things off by killing her. The ultimate way to end things. e -- At the end, he was at home and it was storming |
I quite love this idea actually, I may post something o.0
brush up on my rusty skills. |
USER:Dyme
SEEKING?Yes, please pm me. OPEN TO CRITIQUE? Of course! Be brutally honest, I'm here to improve. PROMPT-CODE: C14er SAMPLE: Today, Aiden woke up just like any other day. Just like any day, it was very average. Or, at least that's what he thought. The young man's honey eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim morning light of a cloudy day. As he sat up, he brushed his hair from his weary eyes. Expecting his feet to connect with the soft carpet of his bedroom, Aiden opened his eyes in shock. Cold and damp cement shocked him fully awake. As the realization hit him that he was indeed outdoors, he realized he'd been lying on the ground, not his comfortable and warm bed. Aiden scrambled up, and looked around him wildly, trying to get an idea of his surroundings. A small breath of relief escaped his lips as he realized he was close to home. However, that relief quickly vanished as another realization hit him. What exactly was he doing outside, barefoot, and with no memory of how he got there? As Aiden stood on the sidewalk pondering, people passed him by giving him no notice. It was if he wasn't there. Pain flared in his temple, sharp and disorienting. What was going on? He was further disoriented when someone passed through him. Aiden fell backwards in shock. It was something he always thought to be over-exaggerated in movies and stories, but now he'd actually fallen over in shock, of all things. He pushed himself up and began running blindly, not wanting to face the thought that had just presented itself to him: 'What if he was dead?' By the time he'd stop running Aiden didn't recognize where he was. He shivered and hugged himself, looking down and walking. Once he had collect himself, he looked around. He was in a cemetery. "How fitting." He muttered with a small and bitter laugh. He had died without accomplishing anything in his mundane life. Up ahead, he could see an entrance to a crypt. Aiden descended, deciding to spend his undead life where the dead belonged. |
User: Tachigami Seeking?: Sure, why not? I’m always searching (click the link in my signature for more information and PM me if you like!) Open to Critique?: Why wouldn’t it be? Prompt Code: OCM13j Sample as Follows: The blazing city lights could almost be mistaken for true sunlight. However, in reality, the beams of the sun were much higher above the domed roof of the cavern, a roof that was always shrouded in darkness save for the electric bulbs that had been strung up upon the descent into the earth’s crust. After the war, which Carter had been told much about, humanity had to leave the decimated world of light and natural foliage to resume an existence in semi-darkness, the only light coming from fire and electricity. Though while he loved to learn, and loved to teach, he hated his job. Being a high school teacher was, in Carter’s mind, a sentence to spend the majority of the year flailing in a Hell pit of screaming teenagers and thundering hallways. It didn’t pay well, so he had to rely on his top-floor office as a small home. The truth was that he’d been denied many times a position in New Angeles’ colleges, a city held high for its prestigious schools. Carter wasn’t dumb. It burned him that he couldn’t leave behind this thankless position for one a bit better. He sighed. Being in town was a bother, but he didn’t want to take the several-mile tunnel-walk to a little chamber which harbored an underground lake. Instead, he sat in the heart of New Angeles, in a small park. The wrought iron bench was underneath a stunted, pale tree, the product of artificial growth. The grass under his old leather shoes was short and rather prickly. Leaning back, he brushed the loose blonde hair from behind his wire-rimmed glasses, glancing to the empty bench seat next to him. An old leather-bound book sat there, a peeling silver text spelling out ‘Mitchell Stone’. Carter Hall recognized the name, it was one he’d heard too many times. His own great-grandfather. From that old, world-weary mouth a lifetime of sunlit experience fell, talking of massive fields of long, soft grasses, flowers of many colors, with scent, of blue skies and wind and trees that sometimes had been around for several thousand years. For Carter these were tall tales, myths, often forgotten or rarely spoken of. Even his father dismissed Mitchell’s words with a wave of the hand and snicker, as though he’d heard them when he was a boy and could retell them word-for-word. His father had given the book to Carter when he died, much younger than Mitchell Stone. The book, Carter had been told, was filled with Mitchell’s recounts of the world before the war, the fall. But Carter didn’t even open it when he had gotten it. He had come directly to the park and sat, in a little corner underneath one of the only trees that had been planted not long ago. The pages were yellowing around the edges, the leather binding terribly battered. Some of the pages had been torn out with age and replaced. Cautiously, he let the book fall open in his hands. The pages went directly to the middle, where a newer bit of paper had been folded and stowed away, with Carter’s name signed in his father’s handwriting. Curious now, but still cautious, Carter picked up the paper and unfolded it, flattening it on the old, slightly faded script in the unlined, off-white pages of the journal. The writing was certainly his father’s. Straightening his glasses, Carter read: Carter. When I give you this, it’ll not be with my own hand. But there are things you must know, and I cannot be around for you to argue. I know you would want to after reading this diary, this letter. Your great-grandfather’s stories were much, much more. I gave this journal specifically to you when I died because I know you’ll do well to handle the contents. Don’t let anyone else read it. Make sure you keep your following actions to yourself. You’re quick in mind, I know I can trust you to avoid or talk your way through any... difficult situations. You wouldn’t know it now, but when you were little, I always admired that about you. Go to a quiet place, like I said. Don’t let anyone, even someone you’d trust, read this journal. If humanity ever wants to see the sun again, you’ll have to lead them to it. I trust you. And you may not have heard it for too long after you left home, but... I love you, son. I always did. And wherever I am now, I always will. Carter took a deep breath, but couldn’t suppress a tear. He hadn’t heard his father’s voice in years, but when his eyes traversed the old bit of paper, it was as though his father had read the note aloud. He sniffed hard, standing and shoving the paper in his pocket. Sometimes, Carter’s slightly-oversized clothes came in handy. The wrinkled beige dress shirt certainly helped him hide the book from anyone who would want to snatch it up, tucked protectively in his belt against his stomach. The heart of New Angeles, while crowded, could also be dangerous, and it wasn’t rare for a fleet-footed thief to take off with something not properly guarded. Vehicular transportation had been lost in the war. Bringing it along seemed too much of a bother with the previous two generations, and because of that, streets were narrow and the quickest way to travel was either by running or biking. Carter didn’t have a bike, but he had a swift gait and many shortcuts others wouldn’t attempt for their off-the-grid locations and dark alleyways. A particular alley, one that led between two taller buildings, was often avoided because it was so dark. Carter, however, had traveled it many times. But, for the sake of safety, he put his hand in the pocket of his black trousers. Generally hidden in the excess folds of fabric, his blade always stood by his side, ready to be used. Underneath the hilt of the blade a small lever could easily be pressed in, extending the blade twelve extra inches to give it a sword-like feel. Luckily he managed through the narrow alley without disturbance, and made it to the underground river. It ran along the west side of New Angeles and people generally avoided it because of talk of odd creatures that pulled stragglers down into the water. Carter had never seen one, though. Taking a seat on the damp stone with the book, Carter pulled a small light from his other pocket, clipped it to the side of his glasses, and switched it on. The book in his hands was illuminated immediately, easy to see while not too bright. He didn’t know how much time he spent there. But he had finished the book by the time he looked up and strained to focus on the river’s rushing water. The book was amazing, something that resembled a fairy tale. But there were photos. Snapped over one hundred years ago, pictures of the sky, forests, fields, wild animals he’d never seen in reality but had always heard of and thought about. And his grandfather, his great grandfather, and his father, standing in the midst of a ruined city that resembled New Angeles. An alien race had attacked the earth long ago, a dying species in search of natural resources that, in desperation, had begun attacking everything in sight. The human race retaliated with their own weapons, and a war quickly ensued. While resource was taken, most of the humans and alien race had been destroyed. The straggling humans escaped to various subterranean tunnels, and the few remaining alien beings had retreated. Carter’s head buzzed with so much information. So much information he had believed to have been real all along. For the first time in months his heart was racing from excitement rather than homicidal rage, and at that moment stood and took off toward town, book stuffed away safely. He had a lot to review and not much time to do it in. |
USER: Cora Lorington
SEEKING? Always OPEN TO CRITIQUE? Sure, It's been awhile and my skills are rather rusty PROMPT-CODE: A1b SAMPLE: Ella stood at the edge of the balcony looking out across the vast spread of lush trees that grew over the kingdom, her kingdom. She corrected herself for the hundredth time. She had never asked for this, in fact the truth of the matter was she never even wanted this. She had been more then happy to let her older sister Sellia take the throne with whatever man would be her king, and she would have served her loyally till the very end of time, if that was what Sellia had wanted. That was in the past now. Sellia had been taken from them without a warning, how cruel the world was to take such a delicate flower from the world. Crushed beneath the weight of the world. No, She thought to herself, fighting back the tears that where struggling to leave those emerald eyes, Sellia didn't deserve to die like she did.Now the kingdom fell to her. Even if she didn't want and certainly didn't ask for it, it was hers. Absentmindedly her eyes fell on the village of Quastha in the distance and a soft sort of sardonic smile played her lips. It wasn't as if she didn't love her kingdom, the fact was she did love it. It was because she loved the land and its people that she had to do the very thing she did not want to. But for the kingdom, and her people she would do anything, even marry a man she did not love. Ella heaved a heavy sigh, gently wiped the tears out of her eyes and turned from the balcony to re-enter her room. It was a simple room for all intents and purposes. She could have had virtually anything she wanted, and she chose simple. A nicely but simply furnished bed, A comfortable chair and a vanity table where the only furniture in the room. She passed all of the furniture towards a door on the other side of the room, and stuck her head through this. The room served as a room for her Lady in Waiting, whom at the moment was seated at a small wooden desk writing something. "Aya, would you come prepare my hair for tonight dinner?" More then needing her hair done for the very important dinner that night, Ella wanted a friend to talk to. Aya's mother had worked as the Lady in Waiting to Ella's mother, and the two, despite social class differences of course, had grown up in the castle together. Aya was, and Ella would never doubt this, Ella's best friend. She could tell her anything, even if it was just a shoulder to cry on, or another mind to bounce idea's off of. Right now Ella needed both. She crossed the room and took a seat at her vanity table while Aya set to work on combing out her long fiery red. For a long time she sat like this without saying a word, and Aya, who knew that Ella needed her silence to her thoughts, worked in silence on combing and styling her hair. Finally after long moments of deep thought Ella once more spoke to her best friend. "Aya, what am I supposed to do?" There where tears in her eyes as she spoke despite her will to push them back. "I am sure you have heard by now Prince Calleph of Teripheme plans to propose to me tonight" "But my lady, Teripheme is a rich country, with a lot of land. Surely this is a good thing for you" She was attempting to sound reassuring, Ella could here it in her voice though, and she knew that Aya knew why this was not good news. "What am I to tell Richard? I was already promised to marry the Duke's Son Richard. And, Aya.....I Love him" "Couldn't you choose to not accept Prince Calleph's offer?" But again Ella could here the tone under the cheery exterior. Aya knew as well as she did, that wasn't the way things worked. "Father has already made the arrangements, tonight is just a formality. The pairing will help the country, more then the marriage to a Duke's son will." She felt Aya's arms wrap around her shoulder, like that of a comforting friend. "You'll be alright, my lady. Richard will always be a part of you, but the Prince shall be a part of you as well." |
USER: There is Only ZUUL
SEEKING? A role play, I am opened to be contacted via PM, or by my thread. OPEN TO CRITIQUE? Sure. PROMPT-CODE: OC-H-j SAMPLE: H) You have a secret. Perhaps it's something relatively innocent. Or maybe you could go to jail or even be killed if people knew the truth. By nature, you are a very honest person. And this secret is sitting heavily within you... j) In the heart of a major city. Blood coated her left arm; she had been pegged by a bullet when one of her associates startled the male she was trying to do business with. She held her right hand over the wound as she braced herself against the side of the “Get Away” car as one put it. She was waiting for the gunfire to stop she was more than positive one or two were dead. The sound of alarms caused her to freeze up, perfect just what she needed, the wonderful Gotham Bacon patrol. She took a few breaths and moved in a sprint, vaulting off of the ledge of the parking garage. She didn’t have time to even try to brace herself her body hit the roof of the small business below and she rolled with a groan. This could have gone so much better. None of her ‘associates’ knew who she was; they just knew the name she went by. “Scarecrow.” Elizabeth had done well for herself, she was known as the one that could get anything. She had her father’s old connections and a few new connections, she had been lucky enough to keep herself low enough she hadn’t the pleasure of meeting any of these so called ‘heroes.’ She stayed close to the ground as she moved to the roof’s door; she slipped down into the building and quickly made her way down the hallway so she could get out of this building. Her heart was pounding, she hadn’t expected to have to take a leap off the roof, luckily it wasn’t a horrible fall, had she been any higher she would have probably broken her neck and a dead Scarecrow was not in her cards today. She hissed a bit in pain as she walked quickly, she turned the corner quickly and growled to herself slipping back around it when she saw the cops. Really? Was this really happening to her right now? She checked her airborne toxin system before nodding. She waited until the cop got closer before she thrust her arm out and twisted her wrist enough to trigger the system filling the air around them with the man inhaled the toxin and within seconds he was down on the ground trying to crawl away from her. She raised an eyebrow at the man, had she had any more time she would have stayed to study him more, but time was being pressed and she couldn’t risk getting caught. She quickly moved passed the man, she took off in a run jumping from the balcony to the stairwell to avoid two sets of stairs, She did it again at the other stair case and moved to slip out the side door, she looked around and moved down the alleyway. She had to get home quickly, to fix her arm, how was she supposed to explain this to work? Oh well, she wouldn’t worry about that right now. Right now she had to worry about getting far enough away and getting home. She moved quickly through the alleyways dodging cops and homeless people. She quickly moved to take off her goggles and mask once she got back towards the main part of town. She quickly moved to take off her jacket and wrapped the mask and goggles in them as she walked. It didn’t take her long to hail a cab and get home. She paid the man and moved quickly into her apartment, being quiet as not to disturb her room mates. She quickly moved to throw her jacket into her bedroom before she moved to her bathroom she got out her first aid kit and went to work. First step was to get the damned bullet out of her arm. She could just hear her father now. ‘You need to be more careful, and never go first, let your henchmen do that, never actually touch the things, the henchmen do the dirty work’ She shook her head, If only it was that easy, she didn’t actually trust her henchpeople. She dug around for the bullet and pulled it out she hissed again and dropped the shards onto her counter as she moved to clean the wound up before she went to work on sewing the wound shut. “….“Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly; "Tis the prettiest little parlor that you ever did spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things to show when you are there." "Oh no, no!" said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair can never come down again." She hissed a bit as she worked on her wound. See she could have gone to the hospital, but if anyone knew Elizabeth properly they knew she would risk death rather than going to the hospital. It was just a thing, she hated hospitals, and they frightened her. She always blew it off as ‘that’s where the zombie apocalypse would start.’ Most people left it after she went to ‘zombies’. Elizabeth was normally a rather serious person, but she did know how to have ‘normal’ fun. She was quite fond of horror movies and her favorite ones were those slasher gore ones. Not the newer movies but the older movies. She only liked a few of the newer movies, perhaps she would get a movie…no…she had to focus. She dabbed on some of the stuff to clean the wounds before she wrapped the stitched up wound with gauze so things wouldn’t have a chance to reopen it. She heard a meow at her feet and looked down, her black Abyssinian cat. “Yes Ich?” She asked lightly the cat jumped up to the counter and pawed at her hand. “I’m busy.” She sighed but moved to pet the cat lightly. It meowed again and moved to climb up on her she sighed and grabbed him cradling the cat. “You are the biggest baby Ichabod.” She sighed. The Cat purred and rubbed his head against her shoulder lightly. She sighed and moved to take Ich back into her bedroom closing him in, she moved back to the bathroom to go clean up the blood on the counter, because that would be hard to explain. Not that she couldn’t do it, she was sure she could explain it if she needed too. She quickly returned to her room, she didn’t make it a task to really talk much. Then the fact that she was in pain, and it was early in the morning made her not want to risk talking to people. She slipped into her room and locked the door. Ich was on her bed mewing for her she shook her head and moved to get undressed and redressed for bed. Brahm , her crow, cawed from his corner cage. She sighed and moved to feed him, “Tomorrow when I am working on my new formula you can come out I promise.” Her fingers trailed against the birds head before she locked the cage and moved to curl on the bed, Ichabod curled against her stomach when she flipped onto her side. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep. -break- The morning was rough for Elizabeth she woke up later then she planned on it. Fed Ichabod and let Brahm out of his cage for a while as she worked on her formula. Brahm took perch on her bedframe as it eyed the mice in the cage. “You’re hungry?” She asked the bird not looking up from her formula, the bird gave a soft caw sound and she sighed moving to get up and grab one of the mice from the tank. Brahm cawed and moved attacking the mouse Elizabeth watched and shook her head, Brahm finished the mouse. She sighed and moved back over to her bed. That was until her phone went off, she looked at it and remembered what day it was, Saturday. She had to go meet Ray at the coffee store; it was a ritual after all. She moved to get Brahm back into his cage and started to get dressed. Today she wore a tank top under a white lacey see through short sleeved shirt. She wiggled into her jeans and put her heels on as she moved towards her door. “Ich stay…” she sighed but Ichabod ran off and hid under the couch. “If you get eaten I’m not responsible.” She called to the cat before slipping out and started towards the bathroom to get make up on. After that she started for the door and left. She took another cab to the Starbucks. She happily got out paid and moved to meet Ray, but first she needed a double chocolate chip iced frap. Once it was in her possession she sipped at it as she moved over to meet Ray, she slipped into the seat across from him and inspected him. “Well hello there RayRay.” She smirked and sipped at her drink some more. “How was your night?” she asked calmly as she looked around. She remembered that she had class Monday, she sighed, how was she was going to juggle all this stuff. |
USER: RetroTV
SEEKING? Sure! Feel free to PM me, I'm not looking for anything specific. OPEN TO CRITIQUE? Yes please. PROMPT-CODE: H 16 e SAMPLE: Some people may find this content disturbing This sample is about a young man stalking a young woman, and eventually doing unmentionable things to her, some of which aren't mentioned, but alluded to. This is my first attempt at a dark roleplay post. It's nothing graphic, but the idea is there. Yes, it is in first person, sorry.[gonk] I don't know what came over me. It was such a dark time. I tried not to think of her, with her golden flowing hair covering her shoulders, cascading down her back. She had heterochromia, which only added to her beauty. Her eyes reflected the beautiful colors of the heavens, the inner ring of her iris put all the gold in the world to shame, while the second ring was the color of a blue Morpho butterfly. Aphrodite would turn in shame if this woman ever arrived on Mount Olympus. That doesn't explain what happened though. I can't really remember. It was sunny out that day. Probably a Sunday, her favorite day of the week. I remember calling out to her at the park, "Marna! Marna!" I was reaching out to her, trying to touch her silky skin with my hands. I was shocked when she pulled back, and gave me such a chilling look. Maybe I was too overbearing, but she would come around. She had agreed to go to the park with me for the Midsummer festival, after all. She wore a short sundress. White and yellow, like a daisy. Small gusts of wind would pass through, and throw the back of her dress up. I saw her panties. She ignored me for the rest of the day. We ate our soused herring, with baked potatoes quietly. The only sound the two of us made were when we moved our cups to sample the beer, or when I would reach for the sour cream and chives. I can't remember what happened after that, I may have drank too much. I remember the two of us made it to my home after the festival was cut short by overcast clouds, and the threat of rain. I invited her in to say, but she refused. I don't think I took her refusal well, "Marna, you have to," I screamed at her, pulling her wrist to the point of almost dislocating her arm, "It's dangerous out, with the storm coming. You have to stay here!" I wailed at her, but she didn't look like she wanted to stay with me. I made her stay, I begged, pleaded, and eventually used force. She finally caved, and stayed. I went out back to my study to tidy up. All those pictures of her I had, I tucked neatly away into my folders. Every single one was labeled by date and time. Some were filed by what she was, or wasn't wearing, some were filed by where she was, or what she was doing. All I knew, was that she didn't know I had these. What I really wanted was a picture of us together. I finally rejoined her after sorting my materials. I brought my camera with me, and smiled at her, "How about a picture so we can always remember the great date we had?" She didn't reply. She only looked around my living room, taking in every detail from my vintage tufted leather couch, to the paintings on the walls. I don't think she liked the paintings as much as I did, especially Saturn Devouring His Son. I had so many renditions of that painting, but if she hated it, I would gladly throw it away. I hoped she didn't see the painting in the corner, so small, almost like a picture in it's tiny frame. It was custom, made for me, of her. Maybe she didn't see the resemblance. I sat down next to her, and smiled, "Maybe?" I quizzically asked her, forming a sheepish smile. She finally agreed after a couple minutes of badgering. I told her I'd be right back as I had to change clothes. I didn't want to change, so I just took my jacket off. She didn't know what I wore under it, because I didn't take it off. I returned with a simple button up white collar shirt. I felt so dashing in it, she couldn't refuse me! I sat next to her, and got as close as I could. Our legs were touching, and that made me euphoric. I set the camera on its tripod, and turned on the timer. "Cheese, Marna!" I smiled towards her during the picture, taking in all her beauty. She didn't smile, not for the picture, and not for me. Around an hour of idle chit chat passed, simple questions like how many people she's slept with, or how she feels about people touching her feet. She started to get antsy with me, and started pushing me away when I tried to kiss her neck. I could feel the fury welling inside me. Why agree on a date then refuse my kiss? Another hour rolled by, only this one was of awkward silence. Marna had moved to a chair directly across from me. She was staring at me with hatred in her eyes. Another five minutes passed of her just staring at me... Judging me. She got up to leave, luckily for me, when I brought her to the door, it was storming out. Thick rain pounded on the roof, and lightning light up the skies. There was no way she was leaving, even though she tried. Marna went to walk out the door, but I managed to grab her by the upper arms, "You can't leave, it's terrible out. I know! You can stay in my room." I could see fear growing in her, but there was nothing to fear. I loved her, and she would be mine. I pulled her back inside, and started to stroke her hair when I pulled her onto my couch with me. I could feel her whimpering, and stifling her sobbing. I passed her some tissues, and she finally spoke, "Please... Let me go home. I don't want to be here!" The rage I felt earlier was now boiling over. "You ungrateful bitch, I bring you on a beautiful date, show you hospitality, and this is how you repay me?" I started screaming, and then blacked out. I don't know what else happened, but when I woke up the next day, her cold, mutilated body was laying on the floor next to my bed. I had beaten Marna to death with my own two hands when she refused to be with me. I didn't know what to do, so I dragged her out back, and tried to find a shovel to bury her body with. Luckily for me, the ground was soft and easy to move now. I removed all of her bloody clothes, right down to her underpants. These, I would keep, and store them in with the rest of my collection of her. A week passed, and the police showed up at my door. Someone had said that I was the last person they saw with Marna. I could almost feel that bile of rage in my throat again. I had to keep cool this time, the police were here. I smiled at them coyly, "No, she went home after we had a 'run in' if you know what I mean." I winked at the officer, but he didn't seem thrilled with the answer. He then pulled out a notebook, and began reading. At the end, he added, "In conclusion, we've had reports of you stalking this woman. None of her friends say she would have willingly gone on a date with you. We have reason to believe she may still be in your home. We have a warrant to check." Pure uncontrolled rage filled me. I jumped up, and swung a glass lamp at the man, ripping it from the wall outlet. I missed, the lamp shattered on the floor, as he drew his gun. I saw my life, and all my regrets, of which, the biggest was ever harming Marna. How could something that began so innocent as me loving her, turn into me being the reason she's not with us anymore? I finally felt it, sadness. I was the reason her family would never see her, I was the reason she would never complete college, and I was the reason that Marna was dead. In my last moments of life on earth, I felt anger, and regret, knowing that her last time on earth was intimately with me. It was done. A bullet straight between my eyes. I could feel my skull shatter, and my blood, and brain tissue be ripped from my body. "I'm so sorry." I mumbled before my body hit the floor. I never intended for this to happen to her, but in the end, this world is much better off without people like me. |
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