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Hector vons anger in the pain (part 4)Hector fell back on his bed and looked at the ceiling when his mother left his room; he stared at his ceiling for long while before he started to drift to sleep. Hector's dreams where filled with weird images thoughts that where not his own, he woke up in the middle of the night and franticly looked around his room. Hector got out of bed to look around his room to make sure nothing was out of place, he heard muffled sobbing from the room next door. He leaned against the wall and slid down the wall and brought his knees up to chest and listened as his mother cried. Every night she cried hector never knew why she cried but it hurt him to hear it, he wouldn't ask her why he also never understood why his step father kept his mother in a different room. Hector got back on his bed and pushed himself into the corner that his bed was pushed into; he waited until he could no longer hear his mother crying.
Hector woke up against the wall siting up he looked around rubbing the back of
Hectorvon anger in the pain (part 3)A ring of students sat in the hall shouting "fight" as a boy punched another one strait in the jaw, the boy rubbed his jaw, his jaw length hair with a rat tail in the back was dirty blond with hazel eyes he was skinny and very pale. They stared at each other, the other boy had brown hair cut so he looked more like a good boy then a bad, he was tanner then the other and had some muscles. They didn't move for the longest time but the brown lunged at the other first trying to get another hit in, the other quickly moved out of the way. A teacher came running up before the brown hair could lunge again and grabbed them both by the arms. The dirty blond just stood there while the brown haired tried to get free of the teacher.
"What do you too think you're doing?"
"Sir Hector said my mother was just like any women only used for sex and nothing more"
"Hector is this true?"
"Sir you can ask anyone in the class"
"I didn't ask you Brian I was asking Hector"
Hector didn't speak he didn't say a word
Hectorvons anger in the pain (part 2)Rachel sat on a bench waiting and looking day after day her belly getting bigger and bigger she rubbed her growing stomach as she sat on the bench again waiting for Fenrir to return. She waited for nine months waiting for Fenrir to return sometimes she thought that she could hear a howl like a wolf when she got up from the bench to go home at sunset; it was getting close to her due date and the thought of Fenrir not being there for when she gave birth was making her even more stressed. Rachel walked home that night a protective hand on her bulging belly, she stopped in front of a church that had just been built she sighed and walked into the church surprised it was still open and that there was a preacher preaching. As she walked in she sat herself in the back of the church listening at first a man sat next to her and smiled at her and looking down at her belly. She looked back at him and instead of scolding him smiled gently back at him.
"May I ask when the little guy or gi
Hectorvons anger in the painA woman walked quickly her skirt bellowing in the wind as she walked towards the docs she was running late to meet someone her cheeks where red with blush and her skirt was a black with a white top and a vest that was black as well. she walked quickly in her high heels clicking on the sidewalk she stopped and looked around down the walk her dirty blond hair cut short to her shoulder bouncing as she walked she kept looking down till she saw him. He was looking out over the ocean his hair blowing in the wind his hair was black and he wore a suit of the same color a long jacket he wore over the suit he stood and looked down at his watch. The man looked around the walk finally seeing the girl as she waved and called his name; he smiled gently and started to walk towards her as she ran at him hugging him putting her face into his chest. He looked down and her and wrapped his own arms around her he was taller than her six feet; he began to stroke her hair. This was the last night
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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