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All Alone All Along December 18th, 1970
Hed seemed fine up until then.
He hadnt betrayed anything that dwelt inside his aching heart, hed pushed it down, forced his grief deep within himself and he had tried to think about it as little as possible. And up until then hed done quite well. Hed coped. Hed proven to himself that he was quite strong actually, and in a strange way he was almost proud of himself.
But then that day came, and of course all his efforts had been for naught. Itd all become just too much to control, and he suddenly realised that actually he wasnt quite as strong as he hoped he was. And that day had only been the beginning; the terrible countdown to Christmas had begun and he doubted if he was going to last the whole of December the 25th without a few tears.
Things had been bleak, lonely of course. And hed missed her so entirely; just the way she had always been there to look out for him, the way she ha
The Burden of Friendship June, 1951
I dreamt in memories last night.
And while this is not an odd occurrence in itself, for I often revisit my memories to examine different points of view and clarify little intricate factors I may have forgotten, the rather perplexing aspect was how these dreams related to this evening. It was almost as if I had dreamt them on purpose, as if I knew somehow before hand that I would be once again severely reprimanded for my self discipline.
Such little occurrences can almost make you doubt your faith, to believe in psychics and other such silly things. Perhaps it was simply some part of my sub-consciousness that was aware of Jans concern and it tried to prepare the conscious part of my brain for this evenings argument. It quite clearly did not do a very good job.
I dreamt I was ten years old again, rebellious and impetuous, and I relived the day that I smashed the windows of my schools dinner hall. I had been dared to do it by my equally immature young
Baring All For Art January 13th, 1983
How could you ever know who you are, unless you could see who you were?
This was the little enigma that was almost tormenting Dmitris consciousness. He tried not to think about it; he tried to tell himself such thoughts were sheer vanity and he even tried to reason with himself that his face could be beyond repulsive and it was better for him to remain in ignorant bliss. But every time he passed a mirror, every time he caught the reflection of a mortal on a pane of glass, some part of his mind craved understanding. He hadnt seen his face since he was five years old and what memories he had of that dark haired child were vague and blurry. Dmitri couldnt be sure that his memories were real, the face he remembered, how he identified himself, may have been nothing more than fiction.
The teenage years had seen him grow at an almost alarming rate; one year he had been a skinny, little thing, and within two years he had sprouted up to 5ft11 and st
Sides Against the FamilyAlex used the end of his sleeve to wipe away the droplets that had trickled down his chin, and he ran his thumb quickly over his lips before he stepped back out into the main road. Behind him, the comatose but still adequately healthy drunkard lay forgotten, the small wound on his neck the only reminder of what had happened in that alley. But while the scar remained, the memory would not, for the man was far too drunk to remember being approached by the teenager; he would wake hours later with a hangover and go home to a shrill, hysterical wife who would admonish him for staying out all night.
He was getting used to staying out during the night hours although some of Alexanders mortal behaviour remained. He still felt uneasy on certain streets, fearing loud noises and the sounds of drunken fighting. He was probably more dangerous than anything he could ever encounter in the darkness but he was still only a young man, out all on his own, amongst adults who were far less sensible t
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