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thezombiequeen
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thezombiequeen
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beach
The children laugh and play as their parents sigh; dying, dying, dying. Their lives are slowly passing by and they don't seem to give a fuck. It's so nice, to be young, to wander the beach and feel the sand squirm around your toes. So carefree.
tide
She let the tide rush over her tired limbs, walking deeper and deeper into her troubles. The feeling of anger, guilt, and denial surged around her and she sighed. She had to go with the flow, or as her brother would say it, ride the tide.
waltz
She felt her feet glide her across the floor and his hands carrying the small of her back. A delighted laugh surged out of her lips and blended into the music that echoed through the room. The waltz was over too soon, over much too soon, but she knew it would begin in no time once more.
revolt
It's revolting, when you think about it, how long it took for him to realize how terrible he was acting. It's revolting that he couldn't see, as his fist collided with her cream-colored cheeks, that he was killing an angel.
leap
She knew what she was doing when she fell for him. A giant change, a giant risk, a flying leap. But she wanted it; she wanted him. So she leapt.
matching
The glass shimmer and shook, throwing off the identical image for only a moment. Her reflection's eyes burrowed into her. Matching. How very strange.
matching
She stared quietly at his chest. Tubes shot out and covered him like a necklace would, but she knew that they were keeping him alive. Smiling, she looked at her identically-medicated chest. The were matching.
driven
There is only one way to explain her personality. Driven. She is utterly driven, to say the least. The look of pure power seems to radiate, to seethe from her very person.
driven
I was driven; it was so normal, for me, I suppose. I was trying, harder and harder with each passing second, though the minutes were flying by like cherry blossoms in spring. I was driven, but only in the best type of way.
wash
I cannot view anything over the wash that hangs so carefully off of the many clothespins. The long, thin wire is spinning and spiraling, it seems, but I cannot see. I do not look. I grip the rough wash for support, but I am falling. Falling from grace.