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Chapter TwoI 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 were all masculine-looking, except for one smaller, not at all hairy one. They all had some kind of purplish streaks in their hair, including the lone female one. They all had weapons, a variety of whips, daggers, guns, and knives.
At least I’ll die like Daniel Craig, I thought.
I didn’t get time to. Because right then, the only female pig deci
Chapter OneI 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 job interviews and the off chance I had to go to a really fancy date).
"Hey," I yelled out. "Whoever did that will have to pay for it!"
I'm kind of ashamed to say that I was still unaware to the destruction going on.
So when I walked into the living room to inspect the damage, I got a shock.
I hadn't gotten a good glimpse at who had broke in. All I remembe
Four Tips on Being a Quality WriterTips 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: Although I have never been to the races before, I was very excited to behold them, yet also somewhat nervous, because of the type of people who go there.
Ugh. That was almost painful to write. How about this:
o Improved: I'd never been to a horse race. I was excited to go, but also a little nervous, since I wasn't sure about the people at the track
"Nah, too short."
"That defeats the whole purpose."
"Hmmm…I got it!"
"I doubt it."
"Shut up. The perfect nickname is…"
"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?"
"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 leaving."
"Wait, don't leave! You're supposed to pay the bill!"
Start AgainThe 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
Running just because you can. Just for
She didn't see him comingShe didn't hear his
When they crashed, it was a tremendous noise.
That startled the entire neighborhood.
But everything kept quiet. Maybe in
Because they knew it was a
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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