One ironic thing about the past, is it never really is the past. Or it never really stays there at least. It always finds this leverage on which to claw and hang back on our present, and eventually, alter the future. Michelle Jacob is a thriving police officer in the quiet city of Exasthen when one murky night changes everything. Bringing back ghosts from her past, skeletons in her closet, and ultimately, forcing her to confront them all. She must now choose a way out. Addressing them, or forsaking them, all of them, forever
What do you want to hear? What side am I on? Who I admire and who I detest? What words should I use to appeal to your psyche? Do you even feel, for me? Look through my writing and tell me what you really think about me. Am I the culprit? The one who played all the cards? Or am I the victim? Just an unlucky bastard on the wrong end of the coin.
As your eyes carelessly run past my only outlet, whisper to me, the picture life carefully drew out and bestowed on your feeble shoulders as a child, your unworthy ones as a youth, and your last few years of indifferent living. Whatever your status may be, whoever you are, whatever you've become, accrue it all to the soft, rattling lips of fate. She is but a fickle mistress. One day she's in your bed, the next, the tumor in your head.
Denying the crimes that have been shoved up my black ass would be pointless, wouldn't it? Sometimes, it's better to leave things as they are. Just being the autumn leaf swaying in the northern breeze. As ironic as it sounds, these cold steel bars have provided me a distinct peace of mind. One I could barely grasp, lost in the tumultuous existence I conformed to outside it.
After 43 long years on this awry earth, I have stumbled on but one universal conclusion. Predictability will be the end of our kind. Every single nook and cranny of mother nature wreaks of it. Of the need to satisfy this circle of nature. The treadmill of destiny. The putrid stench of an all too familiar story you call life. I chose to free my people of this burden. I chose to take the weight on my shoulders. Sacrificing myself for the greater good, and like every martyr before me, the cause for which I proudly stood for, they spat back at my face, realizing its importance only after it could never again be grasped.
My advice to you brothers and sisters, for your sake, run. She will be the end of you, as she was my people. Sounds almost ironic, calling them "my people" when they never saw the comfort in my eyes, nor the serenity in my methods. Their fragile understanding allowing them see the painter on his canvas, but never the full picture. The mind is a torturous weapon, even to the strongest of wills. It is like a lion unlawfully chained and tamed by a master. For one day, he will rise up against you, clouding your judgment, upsetting the balance you once proudly dangled. But even in that imbalance lay a notion of predictability.
Good versus Bad, Right versus Wrong, Angel versus Demon. For centuries and millennia's on end, we chose to latch so tightly on the ideas of ideology. Judging right and wrong by sheer emotion, or laws with feeble foundations. Answer me this, what value does man hold dearest? What Ideal does he refuse to let slip time and time again? Love? Well, why do you suppose there exists a thing called, "first love"? Because it's an everlasting feeling you'll never forget? Because it's some genuine love bullcrap you've been fed since the first cartoon your restless eyes glanced upon? Don't be naïve with your judgment you whimpering soul. The only reason there exists a thing like first love, is because there's going to be a second, and a third, and one after, and another one after that. Like pawns on a chess board, the death of one being sacrificed for the life of another. Now if your greatest value isn't even genuine, what is? All the values born out of that singular feeling, are they genuine? Your ignorance is but a lingering tumor, ready to eat you up from the inside out.
To believe that man has survived 2 Millenia with that clouded judgment, now that's the most unpredictable shit I stumbled upon. Your hope, your grit to keep going, to keep moving forward, expending time and energy on a future that is all but guaranteed. That mentality I envy. The tenaciousness in their voice is my waking call everyday in this facility. The glimmer of unrivaled power, of an unquenchable thirst to subdue all that lay in your path regardless who or what it was. A skill possessed by one too many in the Ninth Continent.
I have been misinterpreted many a times because of my manner of vague communication, but hear me when I say, that, was not a metaphor or a figure of speech. Once upon a yesteryear, there did exist an Ninth continent. Besides, hiding from the limelight was pretty easy, all one needed to do was take a step back, your kind was too preoccupied with each other to care anyways, too busy fighting yourselves. Once again, too predictable.
My cellmate feeds my aching ears with fantasies, divergent off reality that the world would conjure to often distract themselves. Werewolves, Vampires, Elves, Happiness. Sounded pretty interesting after wasting 10 minutes of my life I can never get back on it, but you know the funny thing about always distracting yourself from the rudiments of reality, always running from it? The second you start, you can't stop. You don't stop. Because the second you do, her divine lips are there to reward you with a kiss of death. I say that from experience, so trust me, close to no one will tell you the truth like I will.
I stopped, for a single second, not even because I was tired or had grown weary or cared much about a conscience. I stopped, because for once in my life, I wanted to know what it felt like to hope, to shuffle the card deck and re-create for myself an image outside the one I was meant to portray, and then she kissed me. Wrapped her tongue round mine until I was drunk with Eros. That intoxicating wine that never really lost its taste, just laid in wait for the right moment to hit me. And...
To be honest, talking never really was my sport, probably never will be, but if I'm being executed in a couple days' time, passing on the barest knowledge I possibly can should do a hierarchy some justice. So instead of telling you, I'll show you. The Legacy of the Ninth
A classic high-school love story takes deadly twists when the all already burdened life of 18-year-old Marcus Boaz, is made even more difficult after his drug addicted brother gets out of Rehab. When love seems to be the only way out, a path he unhesitatingly takes, he almost immediately gets his heart crushed, and is pushed into even grimmer darkness. Now, to get back at the one person who broke his heart, he stumbles on one final conclusion. ALL HEARTS MUST BLEED.
After leaving their past in the hands of fate, Shelby Claire and Malcolm Lautner decide to start a blissful new life in the neighboring town of Exasthen in ‘The 9th Continent’, a setting whose existence is a poisonous secret to all of mankind. Their plan impressively works for five long years, but just when they seem to finally have some breathing space, ridding themselves of the voice of their conscience, demons from their past begin to resurface. One of which is the multi-millionaire ex-husband of Shelby, and sworn nemesis of Malcolm, Jacob Fackler. His appearance fueled by revenge is a mere sprinkle of salt in an already open wound as the death of a fundamental character in the town of Exasthen turns Shelby and Malcolm’s life upside down. Confronted by the skeletons and their closets, and secrets literally to die for, they most choose to either keep running or finally stop and confront their past. More wounds are open, more characters come back for blood, and secrets beyond your wildest imagination are brought to light. Will this be the end of the once peaceful habitation of the 9th Continent, or will it just be a stepping stone to the calamity and evil that await them all
"You're a creepy bastard." His eyes smolder me and his answering grin is nothing short of beautiful. Deadly. "Yet you hunger for me. Tell me, this appetite of yours, does it always tend toward 'creepy bastards'?" **** Widower and ex-boss to the Mafia, Zefiro Della Rocca, has an unhealthy fixation on the woman nextdoor. It began as a coincidence, growing into mere curiosity, and soon, it was an itch he couldn't ignore, like a quick fix of crack for an addict. He didn't know her name, but he knew every inch of her skin, how it flushed when she climaxed, her favourite novel and that every night she contemplated suicide. He didn't want to care, despising his rapt fascination of the woman. She was in love with her abusive husband. She was married, bound by a contract to the Bratva's hitman. She was off-limits. But when Zefiro wanted something, it was with an intensity that bordered on madness. He obsessed, possessed, owned. There'd be bloodshed if he touched her, but the sight of blood always did fascinate him. * When Susanna flees from her husband, she stumbles right into the arms of her devilishly handsome neighbour with a brooding glare. He couldn't stand her, but she needed him, if she was ever going to escape her husband who now wanted her dead. Better the devil you know than the angel you don't. She should have recalled that before hopping into Zefiro's car and letting him whisk her away to Italy. Maybe then, she wouldn't have started an affair with him. He was the only man who touched her right, and the crazy man took no small pains in ensuring he would be the last.
Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all—from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn’t return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel’s terminal illness and realized she didn’t have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."
After spending a night with a strange man on the day before her wedding, Arianna left the country to start her life afresh. The 22-year-old Arianna Jason lived her life pleasing those she loved the most, without knowing that she was simply a prey being nurtured for the day of her ruin. Her life has tasted the butter pill of betrayal. She wants to give back to the world what she's got but how can she change her good, innocent personality to fit into a cruel society and world? Can her sweet nature be contaminated, or will she make it through, paddling on the right path?
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
"You're my wife in name only, on paper only. My heart and love will never be yours." Edward made it clear to Daisy that she was nothing to him. They were both victims of family greed -- the marriage was arranged for them. Six years passed. She remained quiet, gaining a reputation in the army as a tough-as-nails colonel. When she walked into his life again, Edward fell in love with this woman, unlike any he had known. She surprised and delighted him. But will Daisy take him back? Can their son keep them together? Can the rift between them be healed? Pick this one up and find out!
She was a diamond covered by ashes.... King Dakota was known as the most Powerful Alpha King of all times - more powerful than any other King that had ruled from his lineage. He was cold hearted, introverted and dangerous in anger. Cursed by the Moon goddess, King Dakota had to get married to three wives all in search of a male child that would become his heir, but it was impossible as the curse would only let his wives bear she -wolves. But on a different day, the King meets a lady who offends him and as a punishment, he took her home as his fourth wife. Her name was Shilah. Shilah was a powerless wolf and as a result, was disregarded and intimidated by all. But, when she begins to do things that the King had never felt for years, he began to wonder who she really was. Slowly, she crawled her way into his icy heart and turned out to be something nobody ever expected - a storm.