Shakespeare Was Right About The Stars
My mom gave birth to me at 17 on 1st October 1998 at 2:38 AM. According to Astrosofa.com, this means I'm a zodiac sign Libra with a Leo Ascendant and a moon sign of Aquarius. I have no idea what any of this means.
Indecisive Since the Womb
Are we defined by when we are born? Is a preemie who was supposed to be born two to three months later and spends the first few months of his/her/their life in an incubator going to have the same zodiac sign as a fully developed healthy baby who was born at the same time? Or would the preemie have a personality that reflects when he/she/they would have been born healthy?
Born in December
I was born in December. Two weeks late. Originally due to be a Scorpio but fate had destined me for a Sagittarius. I come from a long line of Sagittarius. My Father and I share the same birthday of December 3rd, his father before him on December 2nd, and my Mother is December 13th. Not only is my mother a Sagittarius but her rising sign is also a Sagittarius. Turn up the heat! That’s a whole lotta fire signs in one house baby.
Is the Fault in YOUR Stars?
It’s easy to make fun of astrology enthusiasts, but when it comes right down to it, a lot of the population readily engages with the predictions and descriptions they entail. Admit it, even if you are someone who preaches about how dumb zodiac signs are every day, you secretly know what yours is and have looked into your readings at least once in your life.
The Power of Fantasy After Failure
“Without this playing with fantasy, no creative work has ever come to birth.” Carl Jung I was 10 years old when I opened Robert Jordan’s Eye of the World.
“She will be missed.” “Thank you,” I whispered. My Great Aunt Stacy still clutched my hand. Shaking it as if she could ring the tears from my eyes. I hoped she hadn’t noticed how clammy my hand was. I wished I swiped it on my dress first, but she snatched it up, before I could prepare to be touched.
Top 3 Ways To Become Immortal & Other Cool Stuff You Can Do With A Dead Body
When my son was 9-years-old, I found him standing in front of our fireplace staring up at our beloved dog’s urn and pondering over the profound questions of life and death, or so I thought. As my middle child, he was analytical and advanced in his mental age with a dark, sharp blade of a mind.
Wet Wood Burns Black
Zebi says that in the old times, people used to light fires just for their own sake. He told me they burned wood when it wasn’t cold and ran fuel even when they didn’t need to cook anything.
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A Letter From A Scorpion
Dear Reader, You may think you know what it is like to be a Scorpio, but you're wrong. I'm here to tell you the deepest darkest secrets. I pride myself in my mysterious aura, so you better keep these secrets to yourself. If you even so much as think of whispering them to anyone else, you'll have hell to pay. And I should warn you, revenge is a dish best served Scorpio style.
I see the mother crying, praying to God to let him live. Her little boy remains on the hospital bed, lifeless. The mother caresses her son’s cheek. “I love you, Sam,” She says in a breathless whisper. I yawn in pure boredom. Can humans be any more pathetic? Do they seriously believe if they pray to God, he will fulfill their wishes? I look at my watch, the time is ticking. It’s past 4:05, the boy should be dead by now. “How long does it take one person to die?!” I murmur. Running out of patience, I slowly walk over to the hospital bed, examining the pale, boy with sunken eyes. I tilt my head in amusement “You’re a stubborn lil human, aren’t you? Look at you, so desperately clinging onto this pathetic life.” His eyes stay closed. The annoying mother finally takes a step out of the room for fresh air. Curious, I place my hand above his forehead. This was my favorite part. When someone was near death and I placed my hand on their forehead I could relive their life temporarily. Their most significant happy and horrible memories come to me, and it’s as if I’m the person. I call them mini dreams. As sick as it may sound, this was my favorite part because when I did it, I felt emotions. No matter what the emotions were, pain, fear, happiness, or love, I craved for them. After feeling nothing and living in numbness for so long, you’d do anything to feel again. Within seconds, I am brought to flashbacks of the dying boy’s life. I was now the boy and reliving every pain, every happiness, every desire and sorrow he felt. I was at school standing by my locker, when a boy who I thought was my friend punched me, causing my nose to bleed. I watch around as all my friends laugh. I feel humiliated, betrayed and most of all sadness. I run away, trying to hold back the tears. I’m angry and want to punch someone. Then I’m in a room. I see two adults, who I assume are the kid’s parents. The dad breaks down crying. “I’m so sorry Andy.” I feel my heart sink. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I promise to be a better father, but please… Don’t ever run away again. Your mother and I were worried sick.” The mother stands back, looking heartbroken. Then I run to them, sobbing. “I know. I’m sorry for running away. I’ll never do that ever again. I love you.” I begin to feel an overpowering emotion of sadness and guilt. Suddenly I’m entering the next flashback. I’m standing outside, by an oak tree in front of a pretty girl. “Can I kiss you?” She asks, her cheeks turning red. I nervously nod. I can tell this was his first time. She leans and we kiss. I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest. Then I’m brought to a street with cars. I see my mom talking to a saleswoman on the sidewalk. I see my friend who has been ignoring my texts across the street. “Henry!” I shout. He doesn’t hear me. I sprint across the street to him, wanting an explanation, when suddenly I hear my mom scream behind me in bloody murder “Andy!”. The cars honk, and I see a truck coming at me full speed. I feel pure fear, as I stand there in shock and terror. My heart is racing. I attempt to run, but before I can move my foot I feel the truck plow into me at full force. I scream in immense and agonizing pain, and everything goes black… I’m brought back to the hospital. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. After every time I enter a mini dream, I feel weird at first. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, but it never lasts. I’m awoken from my trance when I hear someone talking. I look down and that’s when I see him. Andy Scott, the 10-year-old boy who was hit by a truck. He has two loving parents, and a nice house, money, but no money in the world could buy him a friend. His life lesson was acceptance.
The infamous Bull
Taurus, the most stubborn out of all the signs some may argue? Haha you’re not wrong there (yes what a shock, a taurus agreeing to a statement. I just made history). We do indeed tend to be bull-headed. Whether that simply means not wanting to change our Mcdonalds order which we have kept the same for the past 6 years (I know I know, we are loyal beings which is another thing about us, make sure to note that down) or even sticking to topics we feel strong about. You think we are going to back down when we are passionate about something? Lmao, maybe in another life my friend. (Definitely not quoting from a verse of ‘ski mask - nuketown’)
Write it down, John said, handing me the little black notebook. Write it all down in here. And you’ll give me all that money?
The Raven's Path
Raven thought astrology was dumb. She was in the breakroom with her coworker-turned-friend named Mary, who sat cross legged on the cool linoleum tile. Raven couldn’t understand the desire to sit on that grubby floor, knowing all too well how many times she said she had mopped for closing duties when in fact she had not.
There are many ways for a lobster hunter to die in Nicaragua, but Claude Padilla never considered a meteorite to be one of them.
Small Town Luck
He reminded me of Grandpa Joe from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and the truth is, I had never given any thought to my zodiac sign until I met him. One winter evening, in December 2006, I was working as a waitress at a small diner in my home town. A man by the name of Gus had come to the restaurant and asked for the manager. I told him that the manager wasn’t in at the moment, but I offered to take a message. The word “quirky” came to my mind at the time as I studied this man and listened to his request. I’m a painter, an artist, he tells me and he asks if I think it would be okay that he paints a Christmas themed picture on the outside windows. Being from this small town, I recognise immediately Gus’s artwork from other businesses as he takes some pictures out to show me. I agree, knowing my manager would be okay with this, and the quirky man gets to work outside. He paints an absolutely beautiful winter scene on the window, complete with Santa, and his sleigh, the words “Merry Christmas,” in fancy handwriting. What intrigued me the most about this man was that he wanted to do it for free, (makes for good morale in the town and the kids like it, he tells me), and he did it in under 10 minutes. He comes inside, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them, and asks for some hot coffee. I bring him his well-deserved hot beverage, and our conversation eventually takes a turn towards Chinese zodiac signs. Do you know your sign, or anything about the signs at all, he asks me? I say no, I don’t know anything about my sign. He tells me that he has many talents but being able to guess one’s sign and information about them as a person, is another talent in addition to the painting. He offers to write up “my sign” and I simply shrug and say, “sure.” What do I really care and he seems like a nice man, probably just wanting to hang out and warm up a bit too I think to myself. He pulls out a notebook and begins to write, and I busy myself with my other tables.
In Conversation With Chiron
I was out on a Saturday. You know, spending some time in nature, cooling off the stress, with occasional Facebook checks. The Pine Forest is a famous tourist spot, but to my surprise, it was not crowded that day. Except for a few horses and a trainer nearby, it was practically empty. The trainer was a good-looking man. I wouldn't lie if I said I threw a couple of glances at him. I sat down on the grass, took a deep breath, immersing myself in "Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief"; I don't know how much time had passed when I suddenly heard a voice say, "I trained him";
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