Writer's Choice
Jan. 19th, 2014 09:00 amLooking forward to next Saturday's Writer's Choice!


Illya Kuryakin was only sixteen, yet he was already feeling the pain of a broken heart. He watched as Natasha Asimov picked up her small valise, stepping onto the bus to take her away to her life of servitude. *
She would be gone from his life forever.
I can't explain why this came to me in response to the prompt, but it did.
~~~~~:
The room was flooded with a pink hue that reminded the young man of a giant tuft of cotton candy. Looking at him from beneath a mass of blonde curls was a young girl ... make that a little girl ... whose face was covered in dried tears. The sight of her made Napoleon’s heart ache, just a little. He wondered what could make a little girl so very sad.
Love hurts, love scars, love wounds and mars
Any heart not tough, not strong enough
To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud, holds a lot of rain
Love hurts, ooh, love hurts
I'm young, I know but even so
I know a thing or two, I've learned from you
I've really learned a lot, really learned a lot
Love is like a stove, burns you when it's hot
Love hurts, love hurts
Some fools rave on happiness
Blissfulness, togetherness
Some fools fool themselves I guess
But they're not fooling me
I know it isn't true, know it isn't true
Love is just a lie, made to make you blue
Love hurts, ooh, love hurts
Ooh, love hurts, ooh, love hurts, ooh, love hurts
( Read more... )