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She was scarred far more than anyone could ever imagine. But her heart was stronger, and she felt more love for life because of it, making her the person she was today.
By marylou wynegar URL on 05.13.2015
she was scarred but no one could see where. the scar was deep–buried–in a place so sacred and unknown that an xray would miss it. this was her private place and she alone had access. she preferred it that way.
By Safon URL on 05.13.2015
He ran out of the house, screaming.
The flames seemed to continue forever, wrapping their tendrils around him like a mother from a horror movie holding out her arms to her child or something.
He screamed as the fire melted his skin.
The phoenix was reborn.
By betaveros URL on 05.13.2015
Let my arms tell my story, the broken and bruised spots blurred, the marks faded, the incisions healed. The story is of growth, love after death, walking through the pain, breaking bad habits. I cannot erase these marks, would not want to: they are mine, my story, my history.
By emay URL on 05.13.2015
By Gena on 05.13.2015
Tears brim in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. The memories come rushing in like a tsunami, breaking my very being and reminding me that while I have healed from my wounds, their scars remain as an eternal reminder.
By TayTay on 05.13.2015
The fear was overwhelming. It was swallowing her whole. She was shaking now, she had never seen him like this before. It was terrifying.
What could she do?
She had to get out and soon.
By oliver on 05.13.2015
I was lying in bet one night. I didn’t think I was cold it was summer, but the chillness inside does not go away. Ghosts tormented my sleep, and they would not go away
By Jane on 05.13.2015
people can be scarred by injure or by hurtful words. you can be scarred for life by burns.
By Shanmuga URL on 05.13.2015
This is exactly the same word that I got yesterday. Now I feel like I’m scarred with this experience. I love to write — so I’m hoping that this is not the word every single day orrrr,
I will REALLY be scarred. hahahaha And with that — I can think of nothing more.
By Nicki A on 05.13.2015
He hated her. He hated her fingers. So scarred and mutilated. Ugly little limp sausages. Gnarled and disgusting. He didn’t like her touch.
By Anna on 05.13.2015
The jagged lines on my knees and face were once crusty tracings that I couldn’t wait to be rid of. They’ve remained in a faint, withered outline.
By asavas URL on 05.13.2015
The barest sleep of the endless tortures
By Carol Traxler on 05.13.2015
I am a bit scarred by the decision. Is he leaving me for a reason? I can’t help but feel a little betrayed. I know he loves me, but why would he want to be without me for six years? Six years is a very long time. We can do it. I will love him for my whole life.
By Acela URL on 05.13.2015
“You’ll carry this with you, you know!”
He couldn’t help but shake his head. How many times had he heard that one?
“You won’t be able to sleep at night!”
Poor bastard. Had no idea he’d always been a night owl.
By Brandon Steward URL on 05.13.2015
I have been scarred. Physically and emotionally. Having gone through so much in life has been very hard on me. I have also seen more than I should have seen. Especially from someone so young. Some may say this is a good thing.
By Melissa on 05.13.2015
There was a scarred man in a scarred world. He went along, with a large sword, creating more scars on other things; trees, plants and anything his sword could cut. Even though people tried to be friendly with him and be cordial, the emotional scars, the scars on his heart, made that impossible. The physical scars warded most everyone else off.
By Titus on 05.13.2015
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.