The-Creative-Writer

“I hope you’re ready, Hinata; you’re about to get some real training!” Anko Mitarashi said as she stood in front of Hinata Hyuga in the middle of a more secluded training ground than others in the village. “Um…what kind of training, exactly?” Hinata asked, clearly nervous about being with one of the more outgoing and brutally honest people she’s ever known. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once! I’ve been tasked with a mission; to toughen you up!” Anko said as she raised her fist in the air. Hinata gulped as she asked, “And h…how do you plan t–” “I’m gonna beat some confidence into you!” “A…Actually, I appreciate the concern, but I think I’m doing just fine,” Hinata said with a nervous laugh, unnerved by Anko’s use of the word “beat.” “Oh, ninja training’s only half the story; there’s other areas of your life I’m gonna be focusing on.” “O…Oh? What did you have in mind?” “First, we’re gonna get rid of that stutter,” Anko said with a grin. “It’s cute, but if you keep

you pretend your colors didn't fade shades of red and blue; painted over your skin with brush of fear and pain you pretend you beam with light cracked glass and broken windows letting the sun in - to trap it in the dusty gloom you pretend you live catching threads of the everyday with obsidian talons raising from your grave to bathe in the morning blood sinking teeth in your own vein.

As expected at Shadow Falls High, freshman student Enya Hathway had her nose buried in a mountain of books in the library. However, today, she was reading to distract herself from her silently enduring anguish. Outside her friends group, others didn't know she had a myriad of mental illnesses. One of the worst was she felt highly depressed right now. She'd attempted talking to her psychiatrist a few days ago concerning how she felt with no success. She had requested a meds change, and the doctor just told her to change her mindset and make a friend.  It infuriated both her and her mother that the psychiatrist would be so dismissive. Particularly when Enya told her that she'd been waking up crying for weeks or how far down in the hole she was. Enya wondered why no one listened to individuals in crisis—or just listened in general, to be honest. She loathed the generalized statements therapists seemed to make or failed to realize their clients weren't all cut from the same cloth.  Enya

Where were you when blue flames swallowed their bodies? Encased in iron, their souls weeped. Decay eating through their flesh, restlessly, when silence reigned over their eternity? Where were you when sickness drank their souls, and shadows followed them even in death? My poor songbird, you were sent in too late, offering them nothing but forgetness and crawling pain. My bard of silver tongue, you were sent too early too, too early for trying to break the ice that chained the world. As I am made of darkness and night, sharper than edge of the knife. And you will fail, bloodless child. Because I have waited for eternities and you... you are only a voice of the mist, song of the wind. Beautiful. Enchanting. But so frail. Eager to be blown away with the first gust of darkest of the storms. Feel how it approaches, its skirts in taloned fingers, shadows wail behind it. The storm which's silent growl will silence your song and your spellbound music. Like gossamer torn with the

They say that everyone has a doppelganger, but meeting one will mean your doom. I used to believe that was just some stupid urban legend until that horrific day. It happened after a long day of working at a crappy fast food place with an equally abysmal salary. The customers were acting belligerent as usual and the manager barked orders at all the workers like we were his slaves. I hated every second of working there, but I had to put up with it because I had bills to pay. The end of my shift couldn’t come fast enough that day. I marched out of that dump and headed to the nearest train station to return home. I live in a major city so just about everywhere is packed with people, especially in a train station late in the afternoon. That wasn’t the case this time. The station was quiet to the point of being uncanny. There was always some ambient noise of chaotic city life blaring at all times, but at that moment, not a soul could be heard or seen. " Where the hell is everyone?" I muttered out loud. No commuters were in sight despite this being one of the busiest times of the day. To make things even more bewildering, the entire station was immaculately clean. It was pristine to perfection. Anyone who has been to New York knows that place is practically one huge cesspool of filth, rats, and bad attitudes. This was like an entirely different world. Taking full advantage of the lack of booth workers and security guards, I hopped the turnstile and made my way to the platform.  I usually get a jolt of adrenaline from fare evading without getting caught, but that feeling was gone for obvious reasons. Once I boarded my train after it arrived, my eyebags felt like they were made of lead. Dealing with rudeass customers all day must've really drained all my energy. It's not like I had anything better to do so I sat down and nodded off for a bit. I remember having this weird feeling before going to sleep. The train was just as barren as everything else but I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I tried searching around for someone but the sweet embrace of sleep had me hooked. I remember jerking up awake to the loud hum of static blaring in my ears. It was the same kind of static you would hear from a broken TV. I thought the train speakers must've been malfunctioning until I heard a strange voice come to life.  " We are currently receiving countless reports of an unidentified hostile organism that we'll refer to as "Alternates". Until we have a complete understanding of the threat, it's important to stay home, lock all doors and windows, and have access to a loaded firearm or any ranged weapon at all times. You will know if an alternate exists solely based on their physical characteristics: If you see another person that looks identical to you, run away and hide. If you see a person that has a biologically impossible characteristic, run away and hide. If one manages to break into your home, refrain from any kind of communication or contact with the threat.  These intelligent lifeforms utilize elements of psychological warfare to take advantage of their victims. While we heavily discourage any form of contact or communication with an Alternate, we make exceptions at attempts to executing them yourself." What the hell was that? Hostile organisms? Alternates? Whatever that announcement was sounded more like a sci-fi movie plot rather than something you'd hear on the train. I almost passed it off as a prank, which would help explain why the station was so deserted, but I thought better of it. There was no way anyone could convince a bunch of New Yorkers to miss their train just for some stupid prank. This was the city where everyone was in a rush to head absolutely nowhere at any given moment. It also didn’t make sense for the MTA workers to leave their positions unattended. What exactly was going on here? " Hello Eric." My blood turned into ice at that moment. I heard it. I heard... my own voice call out to me. I jerked my head to the left and saw a hooded man towering over me. For a brief second I was relieved that there was finally someone else here. Then I realized that this stranger knew my name. Even more important than that, he looked just like me. The same red hoodie. Battered blue jeans. Black Converse shoes. It was the exact outfit I was wearing and though the raised hood obscured his face, I could see we shared the same looks as well. It was like staring into a mirror. " W-Who are you?" I stammered. No response. The man silently stood there while locking his gaze with mine. His cold, soulless eyes bore into me like he was a doll. I got up from my seat and tried distancing myself from him, but he had other plans. " Please don't run, Eric. I miss you."  This time it was my grandmother's voice. She was the closest thing I had to mom up until she passed away a few years ago. Hearing her voice after so long, coming from a creature like that, broke something inside me.  I began crying without even realizing it. Heavy streams of tears poured down my terrified face.  Despite the train coming to a stop, none of the doors would open. I tried in vain to pry them open.  " Please don't leave me. I've missed you for so long. Don't you love me? Let me love you." The creature spoke in my grandmother's voice again and it was edging closer to me. Its facial features distorted heavily with each passing second. I could see the bastard's eyes narrow and its neck elongate like it was made of rubber. It charged right at me, and with nowhere to go, I had to brace myself for a fight. Once it tackled me to the ground, we began trading punches and kicks as we fought for our survival. It was strong, but I refused to die there. I battled against the pain and used its long neck to my advantage. It made for a major weak point, so I jammed my housekeys right into its throat, letting the blood splash everywhere.  The creature grabbed at its would and took that as an opportunity to go for the kill. I bashed that thing's head against the floor until my knees rested in a pool of blood. I felt the creature go limp in my hands, a sign of victory.  Eventually, the train doors opened, allowing me to haul it out of there. Once I got out of the station the familiar sounds of the city back to me. The streets were littered with crowds of people walking in every direction as  impatient drivers burned rubber on the asphalt. The city had returned back to its normal self. I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window and saw that all of my wounds were gone. There wasn’t even any blood on my clothes. To this day, I haven't told anyone about what happened in that train station. I like to pretend it never happened even though it still haunts me. I've heard internet legends of people who supposedly slipped into alternate realities. These realities allegedly mirror ours but have enough differences to create an uncanny effect. I don't know what triggered my trip to that other world and I'm not sure I want to find out. Riding the train doesn't feel the same anymore. There's always this unsettling feeling in the back of my mind that I'll slip into that other world again. I don't know what I'll do if I have to meet another doppelganger.

Chapter 4: The S.S. Challenger Sailmark, a coastal city in Jumi renowned for being the center of trade in the entire kingdom. The marketplace was bustling with activity which made it difficult for Robin to properly make his way through the crowds to find the docks. “Where is his ship supposed to be?” An older frozlandian man bumped into him by accident as he tried to pass through the crowd. “Oh, pardon me sir.” “Excuse me.” Robin quickly glanced at him and realized that the man was a Unity, and not only that-he was one of the superiors of the jumian division. The Unity then turned towards him and squinted his eyes. “Say… are you a Unity by any chance?” Robin could feel sweat running down the side of his face. “Uh… no, I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” “Oh. Right. Of course.” Robin continued to make his way through the crowd, but the Unity continued to watch him as if he truly recognized him. “It has to be him…” Robin finally arrived at the docks,

Happy crack Knowledge transformation affected unique psycho All my life every minute been waiting for this moment Access account biometric residence hidden disability Elephants head dream bean inducer mood enhancer Searching for somebody nerve sparing potentiation Souls thirst to the street corner bar ZANG FU man Gobsin Borgov talks bubba baba yaga wicked medicine Interrelation with five elements wuxing energizer Psychoactive oneirogen intense spiritual vivid dreams Fire controls metal to insane to big buzz madness All my life waiting transfer one mind to another Knowledge transformation change me into you Happy crack die hard cardboard Christ zombie drugs Identification of a disease system data from the brain Forgive me I'm sorry they will take your persona away Human mind inside diagnosis in sync help trapped Redemption project I seem to get to emotional Schizophrenia not your normal pain medication Transfer one mind to another I felt like I was you Thankyou for waiting

The Parkview shopping mall was a mecca of consumerism that enraptured everyone far and wide. Whether you came from the crime-ridden ghettos or the affluent suburbs, one trip to this mall was sure to empty your wallets. That was unless your name was Rashida Jones. She always walked out of Parkview with bags of luxury items but hardly ever spent a dime. Rashida wasn't one for spending money. She was more of a five finger discount type of girl. Anything she wanted, she got it. Pricetags didn't matter because anything is free as long as you don't pay for it. Fine jewelry, perfume, lingerie,   married men, nothing was off limits to her. Rashida would often see people who were steady buying clothes out of their budget just to look important,  acting as if they didn't come from the same ghetto she did. It was so foolish how obsessed everyone was with impressing people who don't even care about you in the first place. That's where Rashida thought she was different. She only cared about keeping her head in the game and spoiling herself with fine luxuries. Many called her a lazy good for nothing career criminal, but that never deterred her. She knew they were just bitter over making chump change working 40 hours a week with nothing to show for it. With all the goods she was selling on the streets,  Rashida knew it wouldn't be long before she moved out of her dingy apartment and into a proper home. She laughed at the thought of all those snotty people who looked down on her because they lived the “honest” way. Truth be told, shoplifting was a hustle just like anything else. The world was cutthroat and anyone without the right money found themselves 6 feet under. All money was good money in Rashida’s eyes so people could miss her with all their moralizing bullcrap. She strode into the mall one fateful morning wearing only the finest of clothing. Rashida always made sure to be dressed to the nines when performing her heists. It was important to look like she was never lacking for money to avoid suspicion. In her mind, she could feel envious eyes of other women staring daggers into her while their husbands could just barely suppress their lust. She knew she was the shit, no secret about that.  She smugly grinned at everyone who passed by her on the way to her treasure. First was the perfume aisle. She couldn’t just look like money, she had to smell like it too.  With a swift hand, she swiped a bottle of “Rosé Fantasy” and stuffed it in her booster bag. She selected two more designer perfumes and made her way to the next aisle. Each time she performed a heist, a pair of dice rolled in her mind. She wouldn't know what the dice landed on until the heist was over. There were many times she pulled lucky sevens but just almost as many times where she pulled a four or a three. She had done well to avoid jail, throwing whomever  she had to under the bus to save her skin. Whenever she sensed that a heist would be particularly dangerous, she would bring a “friend” who she could pin the blame on. Next on Rashida’s agenda were a pair of high pump heels, as much jewelry she could carry,  and a cute satin dress. She felt so full of herself as she stuffed the bag full without even raising any suspension. She had a keen sense of self-awareness and didn't feel any eyes on her. Today was shaping up to be another lucky seven. Rashida visualized the pair of dice slowly rolling to reveal her favorite number. Two large men in black suits slowly began approaching her. Their expressions were stone cold and betrayed not a single shred of geniality. The dice spun once more. Rashida twisted her body 180 degrees and took off speed - walking to the outlet's entrance.  The men called out to her, but she wasn't hearing any of it. She cursed herself for letting her arrogance blind her.  Once Rashida heard the loud stomp of workbooks approaching her, she threw a clothes rack to the ground, tripping the guards in the process. Customers jerked their heads in the direction of all the commotion. All eyes were on her. She returned to her mad dash towards the exit but felt someone grab her wrist just as she almost got away. This time, it wasn't some security guard. It was a cop! What was one doing here already? Rashida's mind was left in a daze of fear and confusion as the cuffs were forced on her wrists. Luck had always been on her side until today. She thought she had what it took to make something for herself. The only thing she could see now was a single die, a misfortune one. As she was being hauled out of the store, Rashida caught a glance of a brown haired woman among the crowd of curious onlookers. It was a face she knew too well. It was Lucy, one of her former friends she set up to take the fall for a previous mission. Rashida thought she would still be rotting in jail now. What Rashida wasn't counting on was for her dear old friend to catch a plea bargain. All she had to do was help the police catch Rashida in the act. With Lucy's confession and all the charges Rashida racked up, Rashida’s career as a criminal would be taking a much needed hiatus. Lucy looked on with satisfaction from seeing the rotten snake she called a friend finally get her justice. More than that, she felt relieved at getting a second chance at life. She could hear the rhythm of dice rolling in her mind and whatever number they landed on would lead her to a brighter future.

Only one way out Blak Egyp house kemetic order of Satan Modified placenta amoebic dysentery octaplex Placenta transport neural tube supreme reality Ozone vieo vitex fiszik isiko jeblo makbuz kumite External shock deficit receipt of accord 5 years Only one way out racketeering tobacco price rise Moral code to better yourself to reward yourself Give me your grave your cold stone my cemetery PROJEKT learning center follow fake god jahai Non ableist misuse drugs treat psychosis overdose Zone in another light lipstick pair of old tights Competition schizophrenia Jesus suicide moral code Im surrounded by secret service agents of chaos Soft pleasure midnight virtual voyeur body hanger Profanity dope dont worry secretary of slander Many people watching competition schizophrenia Fight to the death how much time do you have Blak Egyp house kemetic order of Satan Amun-Ra I just cant stop success attraction trendy style Only one way out you fucked my head KUMITE Competition schizophrenia

Unitization is the act of consolidating multiple smaller units into a larger unit for improved warehouse efficiency quicker packaging and arranging and more efficient handling and transportation CHUNKING Definitions of chunking (psychology) the configuration of smaller units information groups together coordinated units unitisation type of configuration constellation the grouping together of a number of items by the mind after which they can be remembered as a single item such as a word or a musical phrase Good morning GOZBIN Many faces of clocks and watches rave machine octuplex change Great Lady of Magic Banana Church Chinese MU MU collaboration She is talking about religion anthropology onomatopoeia meaning The words that mean things are religious consortium organization For responsible thinking talk with your heart squeeze queen spritz Great Lady of Magic KIDA MYLITTA KIYA SUTEKH behalf of another Schizophrenia is a reaction against society breathe control play rec

Gladiator The days of gladiator fights are over and we should not be looking to resurrect them. He is forced to fight as a gladiator. Gladiator school is 350 a day for up to eight people. Your confidence and energy are boosted by gladiator planet Mars. gladio (plural gladios) sword gladiatrix The gladiatrix ( pl. : gladiatrices) is the female equivalent of the gladiator of ancient Rome. Like their male counterparts, gladiatrices fought each other, or wild animals, to entertain audiences at various games and festivals. pugnare ad mortem - fight to death Live by the sword, die by the sword" is a proverb in the form of a parallel phrase, derived from the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 26, 26:52) Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword The motto, “Strength and Honor,” by which Maximus exhorts his troops, is not just a catchy phrase in the movie, but was the personal code of the real Emperor Marcus Aurelius

Abrenes atbalss Pēc daudziem gadiem, mēs Tevi nesīsim, Tu mūžiem cieti, bet beidzot sasniedzi, Gan "pie Tālavas", gan "pī Tuolavas", Vienībā uzplaukst tā, pilnīga Latvijā. 𝄆 Mēs esam šeit Abrenē, Kas ir atkal Latgalē, Diženā latvju zemē, Līdz pašām beigām! 𝄇 Visvarenā tauta, visusvētākā, Sākotnējās dainās, vienmēr saglabājas. Mūsu gudrība, priekšteču dotā, Vēl nav mirusi, tā paliks mūžīgi. 𝄆 Mēs esam šeit Abrenē, Kas ir atkal Latgalē, Diženā latvju zemē, Līdz pašām beigām! 𝄇

The exploration of Germany late in 1965, when Danish and Swedish forces reached the borders with Hungary, Poland and Czechoslovakia, revealed a country in complete disarray. All large cities, centres of industry and every foreign military installation had been heavily bombed, to the point that several bases were assumed to have suffered 100% casualties. The pre-October War population of both the FRG and GDR had been annihilated. Estimates put the casualties at over 30 million, almost half the pre-war population of both Germanys combined. Berlin and Bonn had both been completely destroyed, unsurprisingly; however, some cities remained largely intact and had weathered the post-war horrors by effectively hunkering down, arming their police with the heaviest weapons available and rationing food and water. Kiel, surprisingly, had emerged damaged but in decent condition. It was here that the Scandinavian Union hosted the European Conference of Reconstruction with representatives from

Listening to the song Magic Theater by Jan Hammer brings me back to the days when I was a small child, just elementary school age. Said song comes from an album called Beyond the Mind’s Eye which is the soundtrack to a short film of the same name. I remember clips from the short film being featured on TV back in the 90s. Therefore, this song gives a certain nostalgic feeling, especially when I think about the animation that went along with it. The primitive CGI makes me think of some the animated shows I watched as a kid. We’ve certainly come a long way since then. There is also something very soothing about the jazzy style that Jan Hammer decided to go with. It lulls you into a relaxed mode, at least until the electric guitar kicks in. Then there’s a bit more of an exciting feeling. When I listen to this song, I think about the days gone by. I think about things I enjoyed as a kid like shows and games and such. I am also reminded of just how long