livinthegoodlife

I came up with the name “Pigs” while they were escorting me. Apparently, the Pigs had the ability to walk through walls. I realized that was what was off about them. It was the slight, but obvious, trait of looking like a guinea pig. The other reason I called them Pigs is because they smelled like horse manure and mud, what I imagined a barnyard pig would smell like (I wouldn’t know, seeing as I have lived in Boston my entire life.) God, I could be so stupid sometimes. I mean, sharing my hard earned beer with these animals? Never going to happen. Up close and personal, I could spot some more details about them. They we

I can't really tell you what exactly the end of the world was like, mainly because it was three A.M. pacific time when the Pigs broke free. If they were going to attack obliterate humankind, couldn't they have at least picked a time when I was at least somewhat alert, so I could have run to my mother's house and cower behind her? Well, I'm alive right now, so I guess it doesn't matter. The main point is, civilization was totally wiped out in a matter of mere hours and I was in my apartment, snoring my ass off. Well, of course the Pigs found me sooner or later. They took down the door while I was zipping up my best pants (reserved for

Tips on Being a Quality Writer Hello! I'm here today with a few tips on how to be a wonderful, scratch that, a downright fabulous writer! First of course, there is the basic rule-of-thumb: • Rather than summing things up for your reader, present your ideas and allow them to draw their own conclusions. It makes it a lot more fun, seeing their shocked expressions when they realize that their predictions was totally wrong. And now onto the tips and tricks. ~ Numero Uno: Complex words and syntax are a hindrance to clarity. Ha-ha-ha, just kidding. Basically, difficult words and terrible grammar with ruin your otherwise great story. o Example

"How about…Dal?" "Nah, too short." "Alton?" "That defeats the whole purpose." "Hmmm…I got it!" "I doubt it." "Shut up. The perfect nickname is…" "Drumroll please." "Wait, what?" "You were stretching out the is, so I decided to say the implied drumroll." "Well, that was seven seconds of my life that I'll never get back. Now you made me lose my train of thought." "Why train? Why not something faster, like a jet of thought?" "DALTON!" "What?" "Shut up, I'm trying to remember my perfect nickname for you. Oh, yeah! It was Al!" "…" "Well?! Do ya love it of do ya love it?" "That has to be the stupidest nickname of all time. I'm leav

The joy of running almost overwhelms him. The air whizzes by. Everything else becomes a blur. Nothing else matters to him. She's running. But not away. All roads lead to home anyway. No use In trying. Running just because you can. Just for Fun. She didn't see him comingShe didn't hear his 'Watch out!' When they crashed, it was a tremendous noise. That startled the entire neighborhood. But everything kept quiet. Maybe in Stunned silence. Because they knew it was a Start

1. Food 2. Warm 3. Potatoes 4. Music 5. Orange 6. Leaves 7. Football 8. Sweater 9. Laughter 10. Brown 11. Superbowl 12. Wind 13. Fireplace 14. Prayers 15. Lights 16. Cards 17. Pumpkin 18. Corn 19. Beans 20. Yams 21. Log Cabin 22. Gratitude 23. Red 24. Hugs 25. Yellow 26. Turkey Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

Whoosh. The sensation full in his lungs, Closing his eyes the ground is close. He thought her would live to see his children. And grandchildren. Has no one wondered? About the boy with the red hair? No one cares. No one questions. They all just watch him. Fall. He searches his spectators. Looking. Looking for a certain pair of eye. There! Eyes like pools of spring water. Watching him. It's too far to see the emotion behind them. If her could decifer it, he'd be dead. Her lovely lips form a silent O. Please don't worry about me, He thinks. She cares. She worries. Her friends call her name. It means nothing. Cher. Cher! For

Welcome. Welcome to the place. The place where children's tears fall freely. The place where adults cruel laughter fill the shadows. The place with no light. The sounds of broken hearts and scarred minds are common here. Almost as common as the distant tortured screams. You can try to escape. You can. But everyone who has tried to set themselves got themselves killed in the end. It's not a haunted house. It's not anything you would have imagined. Once you're in, you're in forever. They kill for fun. For enjoyment. They kill because, quite plainly, you can. What about the outsiders? Why won't they do something? They people here, they d