its where things happen when its dark at night, your stuffed animals come alive and live their lives, where old photographs talk and movies play on their own.
I close the door gently, making sure not to wake my sleeping roommate as I leave the room. My footsteps are quiet and I try not to step on the creak as I go upstairs into the room I am so familiar with. The room I have found myself spending the night for the past week. The room where it all started. The room where I made the biggest mistake of my life.
“Wonderful things are upstairs,” said the lady to the Anton as he walked down the Reeperbahn, the well-known red light district of Hamburg. Of course, she said it in German, and he didn’t understand. Still, he managed to make his desires known in an old-fashioned manner. By pointing at his crotch and groaning. On the second floor, Sven nicked his wallet.
i went upstairs and saw my bedroom to the left and my parents’ to the right. there was a vent between the two where christmas morning conversations happened. I want a two story house now.
Upstairs I honestly think there’s the dead body of the old neighbor that used to live here. I’m pretty sure my landlord killed him and hid his body in the attic. There’s just way too many inconsistencies with the story.
Tell me something about upstairs. Well right now three people are asleep down there and here I am wide awake. What am I doing. Why are they asleep. Why does everyone disregard night. Why am I not outside?
I heard a noise upstairs and freaked out. Do I go up and see what it is or do I stay down here where it is safe? I decided that it would be better to go upstairs and see.
I walked slowly upstairs to my fate. I knew it would be a difficult task to keep up appearances. But I walked up, and prepared to take my medicine. I had to suffer the consequences.
I was waiting for her. The anxiety in the room was growing with every step she took down the stair well. Her gown was stunning, bringing the entire room into a silent yet supportive smile. “You look beautiful.”
a lot of things are upstairs my heart is somewhere upstairs inside your attack that is your heart and that is where it will always be since you wont ever be back here ill miss you forever justjust
I live upstairs in my house. I walk both up and down the stairs everyday, no matter what. I’ve always lived above someone. May it be neighbors or my family.
my old room used to be upstairs. now in my new house, i’m downstairs. i can hear everything and i feel like i have no privacy. i miss my old house. my only home that i lived in for 17 years. now it belongs to someone else. it’s bullshit. i miss it. i hate this new house. i want to go home. i want to go back home. back upstairs.
upstairs is where he lurks. i hear him. i tried climbing the stairs once but stopped at the door. the coldness, the hatred oozing under the door was unbearable.
i ran upstairs as fast as i could; the Thing was following me again. every night, when i wanted a glass of warm milk, it would appear, horrible and hairy behind me as i touched the buttons of the microwave. it would terrify me, and i would scramble up the stairs to my bedroom, leaving my hot dairy in the kitchen.
Where I live. Where I’ve always tried to live. I love to observe what’s below me and be closer to the skies above me. The added exercise is a definite bonus as well.
esto es lo que pienso en la vida no todo es lo que parece y la gente a veces piensa que puede hacer uso y abuso de uno sin permiso ni cuestionamientos es una falta de respeto
I walked upstairs to his studio apartment. Finally I was going to see where he lived. Where he slept at night. Well, where he slept when he didn’t pass out drunk somewhere else.
Where I live. Where I’ve always tried to live. I love balconies, I love being able to observe the world below me and be closer to the skies above me. Plus the extra exercise is an added bonus.
The dust falls so gracefully, highlighted in the sun that pours through the small window on the otherwise dank and likely unstable stairway leading to the attic. I can’t wait to see what secrets it will unfold, what ancient mysteries can be solved and what memories will be uncovered when the age is wiped away from items long forgotten.
The stairs went to the pits of the earth, Jason following every single one deeper and deeper. Until, when one second, he decideed down wasn’t the only way. He turned around and started back up the stairs, on by one.
in the house it was crazy. you could see the attic from one of the rooms. but it wasn’t stable for us to go in. and josh said that if I were to even think of it he would tell mom. But one day I did anyway.
As I climbed the stairs in a hurry, I wondered how my life had gotten this crazy. I checked to see if the man was still following me. I didn’t see him at first, but then there he was with the bloody knife in his hand and the sick look on his face.
upstairs i have my bedroom which holds pony island…my sanctuary…it’s magical. my go to home, you know? i eat up there, even though I’m not allowed to. Don’t tell them…cause nothing might happen.
I live upstairs. It’s weird, because I can hear the garage door. Every time someone needs to leave or come home, I can hear the low rumble of the door opening, and the floor shakes ever-so-slightly; almost like the house is trying to tell me that my loved ones are leaving.
I was afraid to see him. I was standing there at the bottom or the stairs. Taking one step at a time. Wanting so badly to run down them and away from him. What would he say? Does he even still care?
Going upstairs entails a lot of muscle usage. Legs. Arms. Better hold onto those handrails. You wouldn’t want to fall, would you? I’ll wax the handrail so you can’t get hand traction, pig.
Upstairs is where I keep it. Locked away. If you ever go there, I’ll kill you. And you’ll never come down again.
its where things happen when its dark at night, your stuffed animals come alive and live their lives, where old photographs talk and movies play on their own.
I close the door gently, making sure not to wake my sleeping roommate as I leave the room. My footsteps are quiet and I try not to step on the creak as I go upstairs into the room I am so familiar with. The room I have found myself spending the night for the past week. The room where it all started. The room where I made the biggest mistake of my life.
“Wonderful things are upstairs,” said the lady to the Anton as he walked down the Reeperbahn, the well-known red light district of Hamburg. Of course, she said it in German, and he didn’t understand. Still, he managed to make his desires known in an old-fashioned manner. By pointing at his crotch and groaning. On the second floor, Sven nicked his wallet.
i went upstairs and saw my bedroom to the left and my parents’ to the right. there was a vent between the two where christmas morning conversations happened. I want a two story house now.
There are many places upstairs I’ve never ventured towards. Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to go into the attic and discover something new.
I walk up the stair into the dark room. I am scared. Scared of the things that might await in the horrifying darkness ahead. Help me .
Upstairs I honestly think there’s the dead body of the old neighbor that used to live here. I’m pretty sure my landlord killed him and hid his body in the attic. There’s just way too many inconsistencies with the story.
Tell me something about upstairs. Well right now three people are asleep down there and here I am wide awake. What am I doing. Why are they asleep. Why does everyone disregard night. Why am I not outside?
I heard a noise upstairs and freaked out. Do I go up and see what it is or do I stay down here where it is safe? I decided that it would be better to go upstairs and see.
I walked slowly upstairs to my fate. I knew it would be a difficult task to keep up appearances. But I walked up, and prepared to take my medicine. I had to suffer the consequences.
I already wrote about the word “Upstairs”
This is lame; please give me another word to write about.
I was waiting for her. The anxiety in the room was growing with every step she took down the stair well. Her gown was stunning, bringing the entire room into a silent yet supportive smile. “You look beautiful.”
is roof , i live upstairs , in nyc i lived upstairs , I heard something from upstairs while sleeping ,
Justin Wayne Sprow
a lot of things are upstairs my heart is somewhere upstairs inside your attack that is your heart and that is where it will always be since you wont ever be back here ill miss you forever justjust
I live upstairs in my house. I walk both up and down the stairs everyday, no matter what. I’ve always lived above someone. May it be neighbors or my family.
my old room used to be upstairs. now in my new house, i’m downstairs. i can hear everything and i feel like i have no privacy. i miss my old house. my only home that i lived in for 17 years. now it belongs to someone else. it’s bullshit. i miss it. i hate this new house. i want to go home. i want to go back home. back upstairs.
my mother rest upstairs. she lay locked in her room for hours at a time, without so much as a word to me or any of my brothers.
upstairs is where he lurks. i hear him. i tried climbing the stairs once but stopped at the door. the coldness, the hatred oozing under the door was unbearable.
Up the stairs we climb
To go upstairs we’ll run
We’ll go upstairs to rise up stairs
Above the world below
Upstairs we roam
Up to the stairs we’ll walk
We’ll walk around the stairs to see the stairs
What’s beneath the stairs alone?
Under the stairs
we do not know we cannot know
what does lie below
In dark and dreary room
In no room at all
Beneath the stairs there are no stairs at all
And there you’ll find a boy
All sad and lonesome still
Beneath the stairs
Within the stairs
This is his home
i ran upstairs as fast as i could; the Thing was following me again. every night, when i wanted a glass of warm milk, it would appear, horrible and hairy behind me as i touched the buttons of the microwave. it would terrify me, and i would scramble up the stairs to my bedroom, leaving my hot dairy in the kitchen.
I went upstairs and found her lying there in a pool of her own blood. At least i thought it was hers.
Where I live. Where I’ve always tried to live. I love to observe what’s below me and be closer to the skies above me. The added exercise is a definite bonus as well.
esto es lo que pienso en la vida no todo es lo que parece y la gente a veces piensa que puede hacer uso y abuso de uno sin permiso ni cuestionamientos es una falta de respeto
I walked upstairs to his studio apartment. Finally I was going to see where he lived. Where he slept at night. Well, where he slept when he didn’t pass out drunk somewhere else.
Where I live. Where I’ve always tried to live. I love balconies, I love being able to observe the world below me and be closer to the skies above me. Plus the extra exercise is an added bonus.
Upstairs, six floors. But we really don’t use the stairs. Up-elevator. Maybe that’s what we should call it.
lets go into the smooth darkness, up into that distance, take me where it leads me. who knows where? i don”t care
The dust falls so gracefully, highlighted in the sun that pours through the small window on the otherwise dank and likely unstable stairway leading to the attic. I can’t wait to see what secrets it will unfold, what ancient mysteries can be solved and what memories will be uncovered when the age is wiped away from items long forgotten.
The stairs went to the pits of the earth, Jason following every single one deeper and deeper. Until, when one second, he decideed down wasn’t the only way. He turned around and started back up the stairs, on by one.
in the house it was crazy. you could see the attic from one of the rooms. but it wasn’t stable for us to go in. and josh said that if I were to even think of it he would tell mom. But one day I did anyway.
As I climbed the stairs in a hurry, I wondered how my life had gotten this crazy. I checked to see if the man was still following me. I didn’t see him at first, but then there he was with the bloody knife in his hand and the sick look on his face.
upstairs i have my bedroom which holds pony island…my sanctuary…it’s magical. my go to home, you know? i eat up there, even though I’m not allowed to. Don’t tell them…cause nothing might happen.
I live upstairs. It’s weird, because I can hear the garage door. Every time someone needs to leave or come home, I can hear the low rumble of the door opening, and the floor shakes ever-so-slightly; almost like the house is trying to tell me that my loved ones are leaving.
I was afraid to see him. I was standing there at the bottom or the stairs. Taking one step at a time. Wanting so badly to run down them and away from him. What would he say? Does he even still care?
Going upstairs entails a lot of muscle usage. Legs. Arms. Better hold onto those handrails. You wouldn’t want to fall, would you? I’ll wax the handrail so you can’t get hand traction, pig.
I should have listened when you told me to stay upstairs, if i had maybe things would have turned out differently.
i like upstairs@!!11!!11! chocolate is sofreakin goodddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd … Play room!:)
I went upstairs to brush my teeth so that when i kissed my husband on the lips he wouldn’t taste the the other man on my breath