You’ll go to hell for this,” she slurred. “You forget, Princess”—he brushed his thumb over her cheek—“I’m already on the list of permanent residents.
The scars should make you terrifying, but to me they don’t. They only make you intriguing. It’s beauty with depth.
Make no mistake, Princess. I’m no hero.
Honey, he's not worth it. No matter how much money he's got, not matter how big a ring he puts on your finger, if he puts his hands on you, you should run the opposite way as fast as you can.
every man there had been trained from childhood in the brutal schools, as assassins. They were all looking for a new life and trying to figure out the rules of society. They knew they'd never fit perfectly, but they were doing their best.
They were coarse and crude. They made rude finger gestures to one another and they were their scars like badges. They were a family, unbreakable, loyal and absolutely powerful when they stood together.
They'd been children, but they'd been lethal. Now, as adults, they were even more deadly.
Czar had been a ten-year-old boy who mastered the plan to keep them all alive in the hell they'd grown up in. He'd given them hope in their darkest times. He'd driven them to perfect their abilities.
No one can tell you your artwork is worthless but you. And no one can tell you it has value but you.
We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.
One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies. “They’re straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won’t die.
No matter the challenge that you face in life, your joy and happiness cannot be touched except you allow it.
Sometimes it takes more courage to believe in what you can’t see.” she said quietly, and then looked into his dark blue eyes. “Because anyone can believe in what’s already been proven. Grace Willows- Not a Ghost of a Chance Copyright © 2018 by Grace Willows
If the town were a black hole, I was the helpless star being sucked into oblivion. It was an oblivion I craved.
A child’s imaginary playmate just might actually be there.
Paranormal events are just edges of the infinite we “happen” to encounter.
What is more precious: a thousand answers derived from one question? Or, one answer…from a thousand questions?
Some ghosts or felt presences may simply be the essence of another living person projected outward while sleeping.
The physical world we live in is just the beginning.
Coincidences link us to the unknown and weave us into it.