Romans & histoires Realism

"You should take Dad's reputation into consideration, Mom. His subordinates are still around." Mom scoffed as she looked at the crowd of people behind us. "I suppose I can keep myself in check for Matthew's sake." Dad breathed a sigh of relief before shooting a grateful look at me. The three of us conversed with each other while ignoring everyone around us, leaving the Morenos and the outlaws stunned as they watched us. Frank was the first one to snap back to his senses. "You faked your own death, Matthew?" he demanded. "Did you do it so that the other Morenos would drop by our home to demand money from us?"

Then, she turned to me guiltily and whispered, "I'll… I'll buy you another one next time." I nodded indifferently. I'd heard her make promises like that countless times and never seen her follow through. … At the photography studio, Marcus went first and even took several photos with Jessica. When it was my turn with her, the photographer raised his camera but awkwardly lowered it again. "Oops. Sorry, but I'm all out of film." I secretly cheered, but kept a straight face, saying calmly, "Oh. Forget it, then." As we left the studio, Jessica pulled a train ticket from her pocket and handed it to me. It was a standing-room-only ticket to Lisbeth, departing in four days.

I would do everything in my power to keep her death from becoming a spectacle for the world to see. Rumors had been swirling around the city like a vicious tornado that I was dating Lisa and that we were expecting a child together. My publicist, Jane, had been frantic, urging me to make a statement and put an end to the rumors, but I had refused. What did it matter what the public thought? They didn't know the truth, and they never would. The only person who truly mattered, Anna, was no longer here to hear me deny the rumors. So, I simply let them talk and spread their lies.

Celestin opened her eyes and got up from bed without any expression. She went straight into the mirror, just a few steps across her bed, and look at her young reflection. A pale-faced woman appeared before her, with gray hair like ashes from a fireplace and eyes like ice, clear yet cold. "I'm 18 again. How nice." She sarcastically smirked after. Celestin always regresses at the age of 18, just three years before her supposed death. 'I have no time for this. I must continue where I left off.'

"You are the only one who knows yourself, your feelings, and what you need. Therefore, the opinion of others should only serve as a reference, but not as a guide." - Don Miguel Ruiz - Kimani Trinity Campbell - I was seated in my professor's office, surrounded by the mess of art supplies and completed works. The walls were cluttered with paintings, sculptures, and sketches. The room was cramped and cluttered, but it was clear that my professor loved every inch of it.

' she asked looking at me questionably as seems to judge my maturity level. I don't know how I can explain the thing I saw that day on those snowy mountains. I can't even tell if it was real or just my imagination but that feeling of being stared at was too real to be a child's imagination. So, calling it an alien for now is good enough. I was never good in the area of romance. Every time I look at boys around me instead of love I feel disgust. May be alien is my choice. I grabbed the towel and entered shower having a good relaxing shower finally brought my mind at peace. Its the only place where I can get some 'my time' or so what I thought. Just when I was thinking of peace she called agai

She is perfect for me, not him or anyone. " I mean if you be my model, it will be perfect. So please say yes. " " I am sorry, but no... I don't want that. First of all I am very camera shy. Another reason is that I don't want my pics to be published anywhere. I am a wallflower kind of girl. I don't feel comfortable with all that. Recently my pics got published in a local newspaper and I really got fed up. So, I am sorry Siddharth, but I don't want to do anything with this. "

Soon they were touching each other, mimicking the movements of intimacy in bare minimum clothes. Reyna averted her gaze to the knotted hands in her lap. Her heart raced. In her peripheral vision, the dancers moved as the men took the stage, performing stunts that pleased the female crowd. Tonight there wouldn't be any boundaries as they celebrated the first day of winter. What was there to celebrate? She never understood. Winter was all about cold and death. Many died in winter. The mundanes slipped in and out of the crowd, distributing drinks. A few groped the females. They hid the grimace and moved away with a sly smile. Any other reaction warranted punishment worse than death.