They say everyone prays before they die. Although, I never got the chance to, my last breath was taken from me before I knew what was even happening. I had been sick for the first weeks of snowfall. Days would go by and I wouldn’t wake up. All the days seemed to collide together during these dark times. I was getting thin, too thin to be healthy anymore. I could see my rib cage bones; they were sticking out farther than they usually would or even should. A week had gone by and my family had only seen me awake, maybe three times.
Published 19 days ago
He was not a big fan of the beach, let alone on a 100 degree day at Panama City Beach, his last favorite of beaches. She insisted he come along for this weekend jaunt to the pan-handle; being a good husband he grudgingly complied to join her for a few days of fun in the sun.
“Fight, fight, fight!” The group roared as they watched Billy Madison pin then pummel Dexter Knight. Mr. Rennell broke through the crowd and yanked Billy off Dexter and threw him several feet away.
Tag stares at his empty hand as the frantic, bumbling Christmas shoppers make careless circuits around him. He doesn’t move, as if freezing the moment will somehow let him roll it back and undo it. His breath hangs in his throat. His right hand remains poised in mid-air, ready to type out a forgotten message to Sonia.
I awoke that night to the sound of furious hammering.
I awake. I feel myself drawn back into the world of reality. Not quite ready, I permit my eyes to rest a few more seconds, minutes maybe. The image in my mind, the trace of a lost dream, is too beautiful to let go.
Supernaturals are being hunted down by hunters that can temporarily take the powers of those they hunt, allowing them to further hunt down more. Making them the ultimate killing machines. As the killings continue they gain more knowledge on attracting and killing supernaturals. 25 years have past since they've started and the supernaturals have started to fight back trying to regain their freedom and to preserve their kind.
Name's Sascha. I'm not as well-known as the male resistors. Yes, we're all made and resist the strain itself. We rebirth into our next lives with no memory of being made, but a strong sense of duty to our last left purpose as we died. We can't remember that unless we Awaken, which is the process of remembering all our lives. I'm reborn from Ileana, not Illona, Jusztina Szilagyi Tepes.