Escape the hotel

I’m walking down the hallway of my hotel when I feel something vibrating on my arm. Then a glowing light pierced through my skin. I immediately knew it was a bomb.

If I was going to die I’d rather not drag a hotel full of people with me.

So I rushed out and into a vacant strip of road and awaited my explosive demise.


It Is Hard Being An INFP


I relate to this so deeply ….  Except for the reading people part I’m terrible at reading people … 😂

Okay. It is hard being an INFP (Check out the Myer-Briggs Personality Test if these four letters mean as much to you as leaves at the bottom of a teacup). I mean REALLY hard. Every day I feel like …

Source: It Is Hard Being An INFP

Moving Out

My name is Harper Dean. I’m about to start college and move in with my boyfriend soon. I love my boyfriend, Logan. He’s really sweet, sensitive and affectionate. He’s always there for me. He tells me I’m beautiful. On our first date, he gave me a rose. Most guys don’t do that anymore, ya know?

He’s very kind to me, he’s very accepting of my crazy past. He doesn’t mind my criminal record, my angry outbursts. He gets angry when I steal from him, but he doesn’t stay angry. He’s got a steady job, and he’s getting his own place soon. He said that he can’t wait to move in with me. I told him I have to wait until I graduate first. I can’t wait to move out of my parents house either.

Don’t get me wrong; I love and feel a strong affection for Logan. I just hate his mustache. It’s a huge turnoff for me.

To be honest, we don’t have much in common either. The reason I’m moving in with him is to get out of my parents house. What happens then? Who knows? Maybe I’ll learn to like him that way.

Weird dream

My dad had a dream once that he’d die next year. Then he said “With my luck, that’d be the only dream I’ve had to come true!”


Unique Writings

Everything has a limit. If you love someone too much: it’ll hurt you. If you drive too hard: you’ll crash and probably die. Too much is never okay.

The same is with freedom. The word “freedom” is often used by ones who uses it as a shield.

We have the freedom of action: but that doesn’t mean that you can kill someone. We have the freedom of thoughts: that means that you actually can think whatever you want to until you can’t anymore (thought reading stuff are coming in the future).
We have the freedom of speech. Freedom of speech includes the freedom to offend people. But that doesn’t mean that everyone could offend when they want to. Know the difference.

If everyone goes berserk to each other and uses the excuse “I have the freedom of..” then we are worse than animals, because even if you give animals full…

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Creative Torture Device

His scalp felt like it was being set on fire. Sweat was now dripping from every orifice imaginable. His throat was beginning to feel like sandpaper. How much longer was he going to have to endure this, he wondered.

“Please let me out of here… I’m begging you.” He said weakly.

His captor shook her head with a sadistic smile on her face.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Drevor. I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not until you tell me what I need to know.

“Please!” He cried, his voice rasping.

“Ladies, don’t let him out of there until he talks, got it?”

One of her henchmen nodded her head in understanding, and cranked up the heat on the hair drier to its maximum level.




There once was a girl who walked down the block on her way home from school. When she crossed the street she noticed an abandoned building just a block ahead. She walked over to the building and noticed something strange. There was an ominous looking figure peering at her from the window. She curled up and furrowed her brows skeptically.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s just a mannequin.”

Just then an older woman walked by, smiling at her.

“Oh! Whew! Okay. Just a mannequin, huh?” The girl couldn’t believe she almost got worked up over a mannequin!

“This building once belonged to a woman who used to run a clothing store. They say her store had some of the most lifelike mannequins in town. There’s a rumor going around that she kidnapped people and encased their bodies in ceramic, so as to capture the beauty of her clothes.”

“Haha good one!”

“Careful. They say the spirits of the people she captured are trapped in the mannequins and now they move around the building every night!”

That made the girl flinch and sprint the rest of the way home. When she got home, she went to the bathroom to wash her face. Then, she looked back up and from her mirror, she saw an old gray faceless mannequin standing behind her.


The Flit That Turned Into a Fish


When I was 10 years old, I started doing swimming lessons. (Yes, I didn’t know how to swim until I was about 10-11 years old. I’m a New Yorker who’s never owned a pool, so sue me. ) I thought it was fun because I was taking it with my friends. However, problems arose when it came time for everyone to jump off the deep end and swim on their own. I was always too scared.

Then, on graduation day, I was so excited that I, Hilary Flit, was to graduate from a Guppy to a Minnow with all of my friends. But then, when everyone else had gotten their graduation certificates, I had stood and waited for my name to be called.

“Patsy… Helen…. Adam…. Jennifer….”

The list of classmates that had graduated had went on. Then after a few minutes, the crowd had dispersed.

I hadn’t gotten my certificate.

First I felt a wave of shock wash over me. Then crushing disappointment.

I went over to the swimming coach and asked why I was the only one who didn’t graduate.

“Um… Coach Peggy… Where’s my certificate?”

The coach gave me a puzzled look which then turned into a forlorn, sympathetic one. “Well, sweetie, you were the only one in the class who didn’t jump the deep end like the rest of the kids, so… you didn’t graduate…”

Being a very eager and ambitious 10-year-old at the time, hearing this felt like a punch in the stomach.

So, out of desperation, I looked over to the deep end of the pool, and it looked back at me. I let out a loud gulp.

Well it was nice knowing me, my 10-11 year old self thought.

And without thinking, I jumped.

When I got out of the water, I saw my dad waiting for me at the other side of the pool. I ran over to him and we gave each other a big hug. He was so proud of me. I was so proud of myself. I gave it a shot, but I still didn’t graduate. But at least I got over my fear of the deep end and finally became a real swimmer.

A Flit that turned into a fish.