As a writer, I will go down any dark alley, inch my way through the tightest crawl space, and feed on your every fear. I will take your sense of calm and tear it to shreds. - Horror Author Barbara Watkins
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I envy people that know love. That have someone who takes them as they are.
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Let the spirits guide you, but never let them take you.
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We come together, we create our families, we chose our mates out of the desire to form a life together. Love takes many forms, wears many faces, but when it's real, when it touches your heart, you will know it and--with hope--embrace it. Love is stronger than hate, love is stronger than anger. Love is stronger than all artificial divisions that exist n our world.
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They say love is blind.. But it isn't. Love is perfect sight. Love is the ability to see a person, I mean really see him-his strengths, his weaknesses, his flaws, all his past triumphs and mistakes-and view that person not as the world says you're supposed to see him, but as you see him-as that special someone you know you will always embrace, body and soul, no matter what anyone else says or thinks I know I can't tell anyone what I've been through. I know they wouldn't understand. They don't see him the way that I see him. All they know is the legend, the darkness. They don't know the inner beauty, the warmth and the joy more intense than anything I ever thought was possible to experience. They don't know the truth behind the name. My angel. My only. Lucifer.
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Lips to lips, mouth to mouth, Comes the speaker of the shrouds, Suck in the spirit, speak the words, Let secrets of the dead be heard.
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Weave the circle, tightly sewn, Let nothing evil or unknownEnter within. Stay withoutOn pain of death, we cast you out.
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What do we do while we wait for my parents to find Jersey? She let him go, took a step back. We live a normal life. The words left his lips without emotion or meaning, because at this point he knew there was no such thing as a normal life for him. Deep in his heart, he was still a vampire.
paranormal-fiction vampires
Congrats, bro. You've just sold your soul to the devil. Wait. You don't have a soul.
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Millions cheer the warriorspilling blood across the ringwhile the one who stands for peaceis ridiculed and shamed. Must hearts forever sufferfrom ignorance and greed?Can bombs heal our soulsor set our spirits free?
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In the woods lay a bleeding angel in all her glory. Her arms posed gracefully above her head and her hair soaked in the mud, the blood and feces in which she lay. Dying, fading into the other realm, her form christened by the rain as though the trees had begun to weep upon her in sadness for the brutality she had endured. (The Children of Ankh series)
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Life ends with a snap of small bones, a head cracked from its stem, and a spirit unmoored..
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Rosehill was shady and beautiful, the most serene place I could imagine. It had been closed to the public for years, and sometimes as I wandered alone - and often lonely - through the lush fern beds and long curtains of silvery moss, I pretended the crumbling angels were wood nymphs and fairies and I their ruler, queen of my own graveyard kingdom.
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