Series
Life can be wandering, can be lonely, but the soul must have something to return to
Since I was a child, I have always felt that New Year's Eve is the most like New Year's Eve only when I am waiting for it. My heart was filled with anticipation, joy, excitement, and imagination, thinking that on the right day, all these expectations, joy, excitement, and imagination would be doubled. But as soon as I opened my eyes early on the first day of the year, I found that they had all disappeared in my sleep on New Year's Eve. I was not happy, I was very unhappy. I was an obsessive child at the time, so I turned my pillow up hard every time, clutching the red envelopes, and watched them moor quietly not far away while telling myself that all those joys would fall from the sky when I opened them. But there was a layer of glass that couldn't splash hard at me from head to toe.
By Zhang Dwaj3 years ago in Fiction
All said give up. Why leave memories. Don't come back.
Since Dad's stomach was partially cut out, he can no longer enjoy his mom's fried eggs at the breakfast table. It was an unfortunate thing. Once, Su Yuanzhi even said to me, "It's strange, it's just fried eggs, why are yours so good?" The fragile shells of the eggs rattled gently on the edge of the pan, and because of the gentle movement, no one who heard it would associate it with "breaking into pieces". It was always at this moment that Mom would say to herself, "I hate dripping egg whites on the side of the pan." She probably didn't realize that she said this almost every time she fried an egg. The egg white was like a big, soft raindrop, dripping down with precision, hardened by the piping hot oil drops subsumed into a neat white snowflake. Mom didn't think the shape was round enough, so she gently rested the shape around the edge with a spatula, as if she was making a sculpture, and the bright yolks trembled faintly with crystal. Then Mom turned them over just right, not a step too early and not a step too late.
By Zhang Dwaj3 years ago in Fiction
If success is compared to climbing to the sky, self-learning is the ladder of success
But it was because I was not a spectator that I hated her at that moment. She knew full well that her brother was no match for her, she knew full well that he would eventually forgive her.
By Zhang Dwaj3 years ago in Fiction
Whenever possible, be prepared to live alone
"Oh." Grandma suddenly remembered something very important, "But you can't go on Sunday, your brother and the others are coming over on Sunday." She was talking about my great-uncle who had shipped her to Dragon City like a piece of express mail.
By Zhang Dwaj3 years ago in Fiction
Natural Magic Ch. 25
Read Chapter 24 Here As Tilli had suspected, Matsias loved bowling, and the girls loved finally finding something they could beat him at. The experience brought them closer, but only for the time being. By Wintday, Mat had returned to skipping dinner with the girls to go to the movies with Antony and his friends. At least it wasn't another school night though. If Mat stayed up late, he wouldn't be trying to frantically study for a test at breakfast.
By Molly Marjorie3 years ago in Fiction
Natural Magic Ch. 24
Read Chapter 23 here As much as Tilli had wanted to go bowling over the weekend, Ayan's plan to work on their literature essays turned out to be a good one. Tilli had never been particularly good at writing formal papers. Miriam had little experience writing such papers, though caught on to the format easily, and Key struggled with reading and writing in general. No one was surprised that Mat had the same assignment for his Ethite literature class. Nor were they surprised when he was the first to finish. He did, however, surprise Tilli when he asked her to read it.
By Molly Marjorie3 years ago in Fiction
Hex Cycle I: Tertiary Scenes
Highest Zone of Ketheroz Vortexyuh — Daughter of Nuyth — needed no introduction to the High Court of Ketheroz. Vortexyuh's urgent request for an audience with the powerful Amoun-Rah preceded her so Bez, the protector troll, escorted her into a stately loft.
By Obsidian Eagle3 years ago in Fiction
Time Over and Again, Chapter 3
To start from the first chapter, click here. To read the previous chapter, click here. A few days went by. Or, at least, what felt like a few days. Frankly, it could have been much longer, or even much shorter. Without the sun ever rising or setting, it was hard to tell how much time, if any at all, was passing. Len had been carrying Sasha for quite some time, but he had recently let her start walking on her own again.
By Tanner Linares3 years ago in Fiction
Chapter 3: Better Off Dead
Jarek Blackwell and Einar Greyfellow sit atop a snowy hill, watching the old farmer’s cabin burning in the frozen glade below. Sunlight filters, through the dense trees behind them, flowing down into the clearing. White smoke belches out of the cabin’s open back door. The last songs of the dying drift away eerily into the new day. Listening intently, Jarek knows with iron certainty that none of the screams he hears belong to his father.
By Dylan Crice3 years ago in Fiction
