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streamofthought

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Truth [Apr. 5th, 2004|05:40 pm]
streamofthought

shepline
Helen must kill someone. I think Andy must die.
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Overheard [Apr. 2nd, 2004|05:24 pm]
streamofthought

shepline
He was the one that started it, I swear to god. Some people are just idiots!
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newbie ^.^ [Mar. 30th, 2004|03:33 pm]
streamofthought
iamacashew
[Current Mood |contentcontent]

Gently she let frigid lips brush against the heat of his flesh. She could feel the pulse of the vein just beneath the fragile skin of his throat. Throbbing. Screaming her name. A smile pulled at the corners of her maw as she felt a moan vibrating his Adam's Apple.

"There is still time to turn away, love. We can stop at anytime." She whispered into his neck, her husky voice so cunningly sweet; the predatorial undertone almost masked by her carefully spoken words.

He shook his head, silken locks of dark brown flying against her pale face. "Please," he pleaded, his voice catching in his throat, "please don't stop. I-I need it. I need you..."

His hoarse whispers trailed off as she pulled away from his embrace to stare into his chocolate hued eyes. One crimson painted fingernail trailed down the side of his face, as she smiled into his gaze. So innocent, she thought. So beautiful. A flash of pink as she licked her suddenly dry lips. She nodded her head once, twice, before slowly leaning back into his strong arms. Before pressing her lips against his neck. Before plunging those dagger-like canines into his soft flesh and feeling the sweet liquid of his life pour down her parched throat.
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(Beginning lines stolen from Buffy!) [Mar. 29th, 2004|08:24 pm]
streamofthought

rachel2205
"Tell me you love me," she said.
"I love you."
"Tell me you want me." Her eyes were on his. He could feel his pulse tearing against his throat.
"I always want you," he said softly, seizing her hands, his fingers trembling, and then their mouths met and they tumbled, tangled together, limbs and hair and faces moving, and then silence.

Later she pulled on her clothes. He watched the shape of her back as she slid her shirt on. He wanted to reach out and stroke her skin, but despite their recent intimacy he felt as if a great sea divided them. Blood roared in his ears like waves.

She stood up, put on her raincoat, pale cream and belted against the elements. She reached out to the dresser and picked up the ring, a single diamond, and put it back on her hand.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, the lamplight shimmering on her unspilt tears. "I wish..." She let the words trail off. "It had to be - it had to be just that, just once." She bowed her head and left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. He remained in bed, his bare legs wrapped in the sheet, and in the silence could almost hear his heart breaking.
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(no subject) [Mar. 21st, 2004|11:52 am]
streamofthought

rachel2205
*tap* Is this thing on?!
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(no subject) [Mar. 1st, 2004|07:10 pm]
streamofthought

rachel2205
Cmon guys, write away!
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(no subject) [Feb. 27th, 2004|06:05 pm]
streamofthought

rachel2205
My head is thick. There's a peasouper in my skull, a Victorian fog, a mass of cloud and dirt. It tries to escape through my nose, rendered liquid under pressure. I bark out breaths of steam. Sipping hot tea, I scald my tongue, dry as plaster. Snuffling, I wrap my scarf about me and look around the cafe. A man reading a book, still dressed in his coat, an uneaten sandwich before him. A teenage girl, tapping her fingers on coffee stained formica, chewing gum as she waits for her order. Her hair is as scarlet as her nails. Behind the counter a man wipes down the surface with a bored expression on his face. How long will I have to wait?
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Interaction encouraged, members! :) [Feb. 15th, 2004|05:52 pm]
streamofthought

rachel2205
The taste of blood in my mouth. Warm iron and salt, liquid metal. My teeth are cold, my tongue hot. My mouth is wet from bleeding. I pull myself up from the ground, dirt pushed into my hands, my knees. Leaves in my hair. They have left me here, on a grey afternoon. How will I get back?
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Honeymoon on Mars [Feb. 6th, 2004|11:05 am]
streamofthought

veeb
The sand beneath their feet was as fine and white as talc, baked hot on the surface and yet still cool only inches below. They stood gazing over the cyan lagoon as the palms rustled in the breeze. They were the furthest they had ever been from home, and yet the closest they could be. He reached out for her hand.
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Destination [Feb. 1st, 2004|05:41 pm]
streamofthought

shepline
The girl sat opposite him on the train, her blond hair shrouding the side of her face, she was reading Catch 22, and leaning against the rain-splattered window that reflected back an image of her. Occasionally she looked up from the thumbed pages of the paperback and looked about with big, wide eyes, that sometimes seemed to stare right at him. He wondered if she was thinking the same as he? She was beautiful, and, he could just tell, intelligent and witty, and how he longed for her to be bound for the same destination as he.

Simon felt in his heart the pain of wanting to speak to her, of wanting to open a conversation, of finding out more, of maybe, perhaps, one day...

What was he thinking? It was futile, all of this thinking. If by chance she was bound for the same destination, she's probably already got a boyfriend, or the age gap? ...the age gap is probably too great. And even if she was, and she didn't, and it wasn't, he suspects that he's not her type.

He reads his book, and he listens to Dido's Life for Rent chant through his mind, but he cannot help looking up every now and then to gaze upon her opposite him...
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