abbifede @ 2010-12-23T23: 22:00
Ok, I rewrite because it always helps lj xD
Bla bla bla, I hate to repeat myself, new story, no sims, your participation, we get to the point!
Void.
did not know why.
Maybe it was just Christmas.
Well, you know, everyone has heard stories about Christmas. People are more sad, increase suicides ... yes, ok, that thing had been told in a movie, but that movie had heard on a newscast and then ... so in theory there was a basis in reality.
And then at the end she loved Christmas.
The roads were so many lights that always seemed a day, and running alone at night would not let that sense of disquiet him. He could squeeze in the smoke-colored coat and buried his face in the wool scarf, pretend that all those little drops of moisture they were not infiltrating into the body and hair.
hair.
hear them.
felt the knots to form, the fold down and stick to the head, e. .. felt that we shared at that point, just that, in the middle of the neck, forming the small cut that gave the impression of bald spots.
But that was the winter.
No, that definitely was not the fault of Christmas,
After all, why blame him?
The children love it ... and children see the long, so maybe she would adore Christmas, not by convention, but because it relied on the opinion of so many little souls that had not been contaminated. Then there
pensç.
little souls that had not been contaminated.
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
Why should admit it.
The children were no longer so, and would not think of any example of a child "child",
adults were low.
Adults who do not have to worry about low taxes to pay and who complained of tasks. She had had them
tasks, they even knew what they were,
And at that moment he heard his mother.
It was strange.
It was strange because just then the phone rang.
And all was dark.
And she was facing the window and looked out.
For that half hour in the evening when he stopped to think and she was only e. .. in the evening.
He left to play, did not want to get up from that couch, and if a star had fallen at the time, and just at that moment she had turned to answer the damn phone ... and if it were lost? No, he did not, could not. If it had been important to have invoked.
And let him ring them in the bag, a few meters from her. She knew that she was on the phone to call. The sought for Christmas lunch. Here, a point less for Christmas, I knew that he had to listen to children and trust them. She remembered the kid he had seen on TV, which had all but look at the innocence, and that the answers you gave to journalist sembrav studied diction. Who knows, maybe before going on air Mum had touched with a little 'face powder, her father had given him a pat on the back, because that was Channel 5, and his brother the year before it was done by interviewing Open Studio, which brackets is not even a news show, and then had to take another step up the social ladder to the family. Brown remembered the sweater and shirt chess perfectly matched, the fold perfect ... and began to laugh, because if you start to think that December 23 was because maybe, maybe it was really just one person. She would have been enough to get up and go answer that phone, and would talk to a real person, pattern designs in the dust of the table, she would have felt guilty about the lack sisarebbe and wondered why he did not want to answer. Let the phone ring and lsciò head back down on the couch, looked at the ceiling, then the lights out the window, then the ceiling, then his eyelids. It was dark.
I hope it was not boring. Let me give you a demand, in addition to wanting to be criticized harshly and cruelly, I want you proponeste a title for my story, not just read the chapter to the story, then sbizzarritevi, I will choose the one that inspires me more and the story will take a certain direction. Yes, at the end of each chapter you will be asked a question like that, so in a sense you are truly that influenced you;)
So ... I repeat, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO GIVE TITLE TO MY STORY? worth any thing, then sbizzarritevi!
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