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BerriesPoison

Making writing my only need!
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It feels like years. Too many months, for sure, since the last time I've written something here. I'm finally attending the Uni, I have 5 little hedgehogs... well, I wanted one little male hedgie, but then I found out she was female, and then a week later she gave birth. Wow. Yeah. And now I look at them and I want to have a memory of them, but time flies and maybe I should.. I don't know, go back to when I took photos of everything? I miss that. I thought writing stories would make me happy, and it does, but I always end up .. stuck.
I don't know..

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I got this from ~DivergentGames14

I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back.
The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old.
The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll.'
Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?''
The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.''
Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly.
The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.
Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.
'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas.
She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.'
I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.
But he replied to me sadly. 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there."
His eyes were so sad while saying this. 'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.''
My heart nearly stopped.
The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.'
Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me.'
'I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.'
Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.
I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check Again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''
'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.
The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'
Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!''
'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.''
'My mommy loves white roses.'
A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket.
I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started.
I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.
Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.
The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma.
Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.
I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.
She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.
I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.
And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.
Now you have 2 choices:

1) Re post this message, or 2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart.
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Lately I've been writing a lot. More than I ever did, that's sure. It's been five years since I started writing (at that time I started to strengthen a friendship) and I see how much I improved. I used to end every sencence with three dots... Like this... Yeah, quite stupid. I also used to think that the characters could do anything (for example an evil alien could destoy the world and then make coffee for the first lady) and I didn't care if the situation I was writing of was necessary for the development of the story. Last but not least, I hated titles.

My improvement can also be seen in the choice of genre. I started with fanfictions (like probably most of the writers), then passed through fantasy and now I'm a lot into thrillers. I also enjoy myself writing some SixWordStories (stories made of six words, no more nor less). I found this lovely group sixwordstories.deviantart.com/ and get addicted to it. Check it!

My last componement for this group was:
Tick tock: heartbeat of a clockmaker.

Today I'm writing the fifth chapter of my book, and I'm proud of the year of work spent thinking about this story. I love the characters as they were my son and daughters. I find myself writing differently for every character, wondering if what I'm writing is useful for the development and enjoying every single word I type. Hopefully I'll end the story before summer ends. That's my very first book and the thing that scares me the most is that when I'll finally end the book and maybe even print it and sell it, I will feel empty. Like eating the last chocolate of the box. Sweet, but bitter. But I want to share the story I'm writing. That's what books are for: sharing.
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Why me?

1 min read
I just want to kill that fucking idiot who broke my camera. I want to destroy him as he did with my camera. Now I can't do photos: that means suffering. Probably I need a new one, but I always used this because was easy to use. I always thought that, for once, something would not be destroyed.
Can someone turn back the clock?
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I am ALIVE

1 min read
Forever young
I come from God knows where
'Cos now I'm here
Without a Hope or Care

[Patrick Wolf - Tristan]
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