A long time ago. In a run-down rooming house. Upstairs, where all the four children slept. Except that night, two of the older ones were gone, staying somewhere else. The mother was at work. The father was home. The baby was sound asleep in her crib. But the five, six or was it seven year old was awake. She never slept well; the TV downstairs in the living room was always on so loud, she couldn’t sleep. Sometimes she liked it though because it was kind of like she got to stay up late and she could watch tv without watching. Listen. That could put her to sleep sometimes. But this night, the TV suddenly stopped. It was quiet. She knew that he was the one who had turned it off; who else, no one else was home. And then she heard his footsteps. Slowly, because he was crippled in one leg. He couldn’t climb stairs like other people. As a matter of fact, he never came upstairs, it was too hard. But this time, he was coming. One step at a time. One. Then one. Then one. Why was he coming upstairs now? She put her hand on herself. He was coming up for this. For her. Yes. He had done that once before, she remembered. And every time he took another step, she screamed inside at what was coming.
Creaking stairs. Click clacks of heels on tile floors. Sticky feet, sucking themselves into the ground. Wet footprints left behind on hot, dry concrete.
footsteps
take me away,
to a land of ecastacy,
moons and planets,
my eyes glow,
i hear my own voice tickle my soul
as it flows
from the foot steps i take forward
then im quick sanded
by some unknown invisble bandit
oh thats
the thousands of negative thoughts attempting to attack me
each foot step’s regimine
communes with my all-mighty operational controller
wherever i’m stuck,
dreaming gazes me into the future
the very glimpse,
a tiny ant
of hope
brings about the feeling
of
dope!
The word footsteps has many meanings. I have heard this from childhood. I think it’s more important to stand on your on foot than following other’s footsteps. It is good to be unique in your own way.
footsteps, a trail, a path, left behind, leaving an impression, a story, a clue for others to find. Hoping that someone would care to see where you go. Someday.
Sitting here in this creepy house, I came to wonder why he would murder his family so cruelly. As I was sitting there, I started to hear a creak in the floor boards and footsteps gathering closer. I quickly turned around to see that nothing was there. I thought to myself, maybe this is just my imagination. It’s probably my mind being in a state of paranoia being in this house.
I hear footsteps coming up the hall. I know he’s home from a night of drinking. I pray that he just takes his shower and passes out on the couch without incident. I hope that he doesn’t see or find something that’ll make him mad. He’ll wake the whole house if he does. He’ll disturb the peace that I try to so hard to maintain.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I could hear the footsteps echoing down the corridor. I had to get out soon, I knew if they got any closer that would be the end of me. The end of everything.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
They were getting closer. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans so I could get a grip on the lock. I had to find a way out and then hide. I had to.
Tap. Tap. Tap
baby sand sea walking in someone’s footsteps. heavy footsteps. light footsteps. walking on my tip toes. approaching. car doors opening. hesitating footsteps. someone looking for me.
My footsteps are precious to be left on a heart that pours water over them. Instead I would rather walk on a path with muck all over. Life is short so I choose to be wise and keep my step with care every time. Too proud you think but I know how it feels when people act sick.
the room was silent and the walls echoed every time a noise was made. this was an excellent place for her to practice tap dancing. her footsteps echoed off the walls as she practiced her routine.
as she walked across the room in her high heels, she could her her footsteps clopping and echoing off of the silent walls of the abandoned hallway. she loved the way they sounded and the rythm that went came with taking the next step.
His footsteps were heard in a great distance, yet one couldn’t see him. Despise of being an impacable being, he wasn’t reaching dor a higher goal in his life. Just step by step.
Footsteps left on the sea are temporary, but the footsteps that a person leaves in our heart is permanent and it is not erasable be it good or bad. It gets imprinted in our memory forever.
¿Adónde vas, con esos pasos locos? Te llevan a la locura del alma loca, enloquecida de la luna ansiosa, fría y suya. ¿Crees que así será? Pues que así sea.
Whenever I hear the word footsteps, I think about how I have played a role in someone’s life. Whether me being in their life and them being in mine has made a difference or not. When I think of footsteps, I think of a person walking on the beach and the marks which they leave behind. It is very important for us to be a part of one’s life. When we will their life with lots of love and care, they will feel loved.
Footsteps are the first achievement in your life. The first Footstep you or your child makes always leaves a memory , that you cherish & it is the first accomplishment in your life :)
Footsteps on sand are washed by the waters, but few people’s footsteps in our hearts can never be erased, not even by tears. They are more like imprinted ones. That will never leave us. Few make us smile, some let us cry. But all are memories, sweet memories.
imprinted in the sand
under the weight of a person.
a temporary trail,
the manipulation of the earth
how it molded
to ones movement,
leaving a lasting after thought.
just another one of the million that you may leave..chose where you would love to set your feet and where you wouldnt be seen. It is all a choice that we make..to last a lifetime and more.
Do not forget those who were with you during your struggling periods. They are the ones who will tell you the truth always. Theirs are the footsteps that will walk along with you always.
Foot steps are the steps looking forward to be follow.
May be safe or a trap
Depends on the Successor
Lets go to the safe zone
so that the followers land the safe zone
a couple days ago my family and I went on a hike to silver falls,when we got out of the truck we found a cool trail, so we hiked it for a while and all the sudden my sister saw footsteps on the ground.We could not figure out what type of footprints it was, at first we thought it was a cougar print but it looked like a wolf print too.
I hear footsteps in the night. They start out quietly and get louder as they come down the hall. I think they are tiny footsteps, like those of a baby. Someone crawled out of their crib.
I’ve been avoiding my roommates for some time now. A week, to be precise, if precision were what I were after, or if to weren’t also true that I’ve been avoiding them since I met them. I like one a little better than the other one, but yet I find that even she and I have little in common when push comes to shove.
The woods rattled with clacking beaks and seeds rushing toward the forest floor, smacking leaves and branches as they fell. On the ground, meanwhile, everything else was soft and silent.
Some people come into our life and leave their footsteps in or hearts while some make make crazy drawings and and jump off from our lives leaving no footprints.
I took all wrong footsteps in my love life. I believe I’m not yet mature about it. But I am happy the way I am, the person I am with and the future I’m starting to picture in front of me. I learned how to make me happy, how to make him happy, and have fallen in love with someone I wouldn’t ever bet I would. And this feeling is awesome. Life is unpredictably beautiful.
My heart beat so loudly, I could hardly hear my own footsteps against the wood. And how that wood creaked! It threatened again, and again to give away my position. The sun was setting, casting long ominous shadows down the hall, and my own shadow stretch in front of me, creeping along with me like my partner in this crime. The cimmerian hallway seemed alive with the darkness. My nightgown tickled my ankles and for a moment, I felt a presence behind me. I whirled around, but nothing, no one was there. My shadow on the ground copied my every move, and it almost made me laugh how scared I was. I proceeded further, the floor groaning and creaking under my weight. I opened a door but was disappointed to see that it was only the closet. I sighed and started to go back to my room. I was just imagining things–this was my first time at my grandmother’s large yet remote estate. But just as I was about to close the closet door, something shifted. It was if the shadows inside were gaining depth and I couldn’t look away. I was drawn to the darkness–a strange instinct tugging within me. Then something happened that to this day, I still can’t explain. The darkness turned, gaining shape and definition and red eyes were staring straight at me.
A long time ago. In a run-down rooming house. Upstairs, where all the four children slept. Except that night, two of the older ones were gone, staying somewhere else. The mother was at work. The father was home. The baby was sound asleep in her crib. But the five, six or was it seven year old was awake. She never slept well; the TV downstairs in the living room was always on so loud, she couldn’t sleep. Sometimes she liked it though because it was kind of like she got to stay up late and she could watch tv without watching. Listen. That could put her to sleep sometimes. But this night, the TV suddenly stopped. It was quiet. She knew that he was the one who had turned it off; who else, no one else was home. And then she heard his footsteps. Slowly, because he was crippled in one leg. He couldn’t climb stairs like other people. As a matter of fact, he never came upstairs, it was too hard. But this time, he was coming. One step at a time. One. Then one. Then one. Why was he coming upstairs now? She put her hand on herself. He was coming up for this. For her. Yes. He had done that once before, she remembered. And every time he took another step, she screamed inside at what was coming.
Creaking stairs. Click clacks of heels on tile floors. Sticky feet, sucking themselves into the ground. Wet footprints left behind on hot, dry concrete.
The footsteps are hollow and empty and echo in the long barren corridor in the ancient hall. The feet patter and the sound fades into the night air.
footsteps
take me away,
to a land of ecastacy,
moons and planets,
my eyes glow,
i hear my own voice tickle my soul
as it flows
from the foot steps i take forward
then im quick sanded
by some unknown invisble bandit
oh thats
the thousands of negative thoughts attempting to attack me
each foot step’s regimine
communes with my all-mighty operational controller
wherever i’m stuck,
dreaming gazes me into the future
the very glimpse,
a tiny ant
of hope
brings about the feeling
of
dope!
The word footsteps has many meanings. I have heard this from childhood. I think it’s more important to stand on your on foot than following other’s footsteps. It is good to be unique in your own way.
footsteps, a trail, a path, left behind, leaving an impression, a story, a clue for others to find. Hoping that someone would care to see where you go. Someday.
its important ,as we are leaving our marks in this world. footsteps are step by step to our destination of lives.
Sitting here in this creepy house, I came to wonder why he would murder his family so cruelly. As I was sitting there, I started to hear a creak in the floor boards and footsteps gathering closer. I quickly turned around to see that nothing was there. I thought to myself, maybe this is just my imagination. It’s probably my mind being in a state of paranoia being in this house.
Walking through the hallway was the man in dress shoes. His every step sounded off with a click and echoed throughout the empty hall.
I hear footsteps coming up the hall. I know he’s home from a night of drinking. I pray that he just takes his shower and passes out on the couch without incident. I hope that he doesn’t see or find something that’ll make him mad. He’ll wake the whole house if he does. He’ll disturb the peace that I try to so hard to maintain.
walking on the muddy trail ,my feet were soaked.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I could hear the footsteps echoing down the corridor. I had to get out soon, I knew if they got any closer that would be the end of me. The end of everything.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
They were getting closer. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans so I could get a grip on the lock. I had to find a way out and then hide. I had to.
Tap. Tap. Tap
baby sand sea walking in someone’s footsteps. heavy footsteps. light footsteps. walking on my tip toes. approaching. car doors opening. hesitating footsteps. someone looking for me.
My footsteps are precious to be left on a heart that pours water over them. Instead I would rather walk on a path with muck all over. Life is short so I choose to be wise and keep my step with care every time. Too proud you think but I know how it feels when people act sick.
the room was silent and the walls echoed every time a noise was made. this was an excellent place for her to practice tap dancing. her footsteps echoed off the walls as she practiced her routine.
as she walked across the room in her high heels, she could her her footsteps clopping and echoing off of the silent walls of the abandoned hallway. she loved the way they sounded and the rythm that went came with taking the next step.
His footsteps were heard in a great distance, yet one couldn’t see him. Despise of being an impacable being, he wasn’t reaching dor a higher goal in his life. Just step by step.
As she exited the beach house, Rory scanned the ocean view and her eye fixated on the set of footsteps leading to her back steps.
Footsteps left on the sea are temporary, but the footsteps that a person leaves in our heart is permanent and it is not erasable be it good or bad. It gets imprinted in our memory forever.
¿Adónde vas, con esos pasos locos? Te llevan a la locura del alma loca, enloquecida de la luna ansiosa, fría y suya. ¿Crees que así será? Pues que así sea.
Your children follow your footsteps. Make sure you leave a good trail.
Whenever I hear the word footsteps, I think about how I have played a role in someone’s life. Whether me being in their life and them being in mine has made a difference or not. When I think of footsteps, I think of a person walking on the beach and the marks which they leave behind. It is very important for us to be a part of one’s life. When we will their life with lots of love and care, they will feel loved.
this is what life is. in each step we are creating a new us. to cherish this wonderful universe.
Footsteps are the first achievement in your life. The first Footstep you or your child makes always leaves a memory , that you cherish & it is the first accomplishment in your life :)
Footsteps on sand are washed by the waters, but few people’s footsteps in our hearts can never be erased, not even by tears. They are more like imprinted ones. That will never leave us. Few make us smile, some let us cry. But all are memories, sweet memories.
Footsteps on sand are washed by the waters, but few people’s footsteps in our hearts can never be erased, not even by tears.
imprinted in the sand
under the weight of a person.
a temporary trail,
the manipulation of the earth
how it molded
to ones movement,
leaving a lasting after thought.
just another one of the million that you may leave..chose where you would love to set your feet and where you wouldnt be seen. It is all a choice that we make..to last a lifetime and more.
Do not forget those who were with you during your struggling periods. They are the ones who will tell you the truth always. Theirs are the footsteps that will walk along with you always.
Foot steps are the steps looking forward to be follow.
May be safe or a trap
Depends on the Successor
Lets go to the safe zone
so that the followers land the safe zone
a couple days ago my family and I went on a hike to silver falls,when we got out of the truck we found a cool trail, so we hiked it for a while and all the sudden my sister saw footsteps on the ground.We could not figure out what type of footprints it was, at first we thought it was a cougar print but it looked like a wolf print too.
I hear footsteps in the night. They start out quietly and get louder as they come down the hall. I think they are tiny footsteps, like those of a baby. Someone crawled out of their crib.
Fuck Off. Im walking away now. Footsteps….
Sex porn Riley Reid BBC Girl gets it hard by bug blind
and they crept through the dark night’s lair, the noise filling up spaces of emptiness and longing, the silence rejoicing in its new companionship.
I’ve been avoiding my roommates for some time now. A week, to be precise, if precision were what I were after, or if to weren’t also true that I’ve been avoiding them since I met them. I like one a little better than the other one, but yet I find that even she and I have little in common when push comes to shove.
The woods rattled with clacking beaks and seeds rushing toward the forest floor, smacking leaves and branches as they fell. On the ground, meanwhile, everything else was soft and silent.
Some people come into our life and leave their footsteps in or hearts while some make make crazy drawings and and jump off from our lives leaving no footprints.
Quiet, listen…
Listen for my footsteps
I won’t be on my tiptoes
Keep your ears open for the echoes of my footsteps down those halls
I took all wrong footsteps in my love life. I believe I’m not yet mature about it. But I am happy the way I am, the person I am with and the future I’m starting to picture in front of me. I learned how to make me happy, how to make him happy, and have fallen in love with someone I wouldn’t ever bet I would. And this feeling is awesome. Life is unpredictably beautiful.
My heart beat so loudly, I could hardly hear my own footsteps against the wood. And how that wood creaked! It threatened again, and again to give away my position. The sun was setting, casting long ominous shadows down the hall, and my own shadow stretch in front of me, creeping along with me like my partner in this crime. The cimmerian hallway seemed alive with the darkness. My nightgown tickled my ankles and for a moment, I felt a presence behind me. I whirled around, but nothing, no one was there. My shadow on the ground copied my every move, and it almost made me laugh how scared I was. I proceeded further, the floor groaning and creaking under my weight. I opened a door but was disappointed to see that it was only the closet. I sighed and started to go back to my room. I was just imagining things–this was my first time at my grandmother’s large yet remote estate. But just as I was about to close the closet door, something shifted. It was if the shadows inside were gaining depth and I couldn’t look away. I was drawn to the darkness–a strange instinct tugging within me. Then something happened that to this day, I still can’t explain. The darkness turned, gaining shape and definition and red eyes were staring straight at me.