#or

The rancid odor mixed with the dust, death, and confusion as they awaited those who could clean up the mess and make death official. ↗

— G.G. Collins

#ghosts #native-american #paranormal-mystery #psychic-medium #spirit-animal

That´s the problem with planning a late night supper after the opera, not only does the hero or the heroine die singing, but you end up famished after the last notes of the finale. ↗

— E.A. Bucchianeri

#funny #humor #humorous #humour #life

Sometimes, a word succeeds beyond the wildest dreams of its creators, like a virus sent into the world to infect common speech. ↗

— Jasper Fforde

#language #dreams

All the effort in the world won't matter if you're not inspired. ↗

— Chuck Palahniuk

#inspiration #inspirational

While the restraining force of a higher authority was denounced in school, and the moral basis for decrying crime as immoral was discarded, moral relativism also demolished the ethical foundations of the very laws that criminals were breaking. If there is no Creator that imparts rights, an individual has no rights at birth. The only rights a person may have are determined by majority opinion. ↗

— Dan Greenup

#death

That, too, was in the air itself -- a whisper of apology when the smell of the soil carried. There should be pumpkins in the fields, or sunflowers, or the peppers you saw up north. Instead, it was the smell of old earth that the breezes caught, sometimes a tinge of death. Too hard to forget. ↗

— Christian Crews

#short-story #death

I remembered during puberty, through the anorexic mists of intermittent menstrual cycles, that man, my father, lifting Shirley's nightdress over her head and asking her in his mocking way to choose what colour condom she wanted. 'Red or yellow?' Which did she choose? I can't remember. Perhaps she alternated. Perhaps there were other colours. It didn't happen once. It happened again and again. I had no power to stop it. That man, my father, had some control over me. I was drugged by the black silence in that big house, the vile whiff of aftershave, the crushing torment of inevitability. My father fucked Shirley using red or yellow condoms and it was those condoms that brought it all to an end. It was my last realization of the day; any more would have been too much to contemplate. That time when my mother had found used condoms in bedroom, he had admitted, after a pointless burst my father's of denial, that he had been going to prostitutes. That was no doubt true but I can't imagine clients take used condoms away with them; prostitutes would surely get rid of the things. No. My father kept those used condoms as a prize. He was fucking his fourteen-year-old-daughter. He was proud of it. Rebecca welled up with tears. Poor thing, she kept saying. Poor thing. ↗

— Alice Jamieson

#child-abuse #child-rape #child-sexual-abuse #condoms #dissociation

Bricks without straw are more easily made than imagination without memories. ↗

— Lord Dunsany

#imagination #memories #writing #imagination

There, there, best to bring it all up,' she said. My memory was in shreds. Imagine a photograph cut into narrow strips then jumbled up. Everything is there, but you can't see the whole picture and even the strips have no bearing on reality. I did know I had consumed a large amount of alcohol. But I must have done something crazier than just being found drunk to have a nurse sitting by my bed. I thought it would be a good idea to say something and planned it for several seconds. 'She's all right,' I said. 'Who is?' asked the nurse. 'Alice. I'm all right now.' As I spoke I wondered if I had said something wrong. didn't sound like me. There were so many voices muttering in the background it was hard to tell. ↗

— Alice Jamieson

#confusion #dissociation #dissociative #dissociative-identity-disorder #fragmented

It is hard for one who has not had a similar experience to imagine the terror that still gripped Taeko and Mrs. Tamaki and Hiroshi, so intense a terror that afterwards it seemed almost funny. ↗

— Junichiro Tanizaki

#life #pain #terror #imagination