Heart sounds

with each stride. His heart picks up in tempo; they’ll see him, see the disaster that is Sam Winchester, the ex-blood junkie who isn’t even (will never even be) an ex-anything.**** Thump. Thump. Thump. Is it Dean? No, his snores still echo through the house; he’s still asleep. The footsteps have stopped and Sam can practically feel the presence looming over him. Oh God, no. Please no, not now. “Sam.” Cas. He wants to croak out: yep, it’s me! But when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out. He…

Made for a..hmm...special reason,” The 'girl' with the brown hair started explaining. They both took small steps forward and Wynter rolled his hair backwards. “We would reach into your chest and take your heart if we could, but since it's been broken and torn so many times, there's nothing left to take,” the blonde paused as the dismayed boy started to quiver in his chair. “But there is something else we can take” They both say with a slight hint of amusement…

so I decided to stroll down to Ms. Heal’s office on Forty-Fourth Street. The sun glistened in the sky and the children playing baseball in the park reminded me of my conversation about baseball books with Holly from the other night at her party. My heart always raced in anticipation when I climbed up the three flights up stairs to see Ms. Heal. Her waiting room strongly smelled like the…

The sound of footsteps going down the creaky wooden staircase echoed through the strangely silent house of the Tristessens. Between the walls, pestilence and death hung in the air like a thick smog, choking everyone inside. The only disturbance to the stagnant, silent atmosphere was the occasional cough rattling through the lungs of the man, Galen, who seemed much older than he was, and his children moving about the house to care for him. “Jackson, could you please get me the water? Bring it…

because he’s right. He’s three now, hardly a baby, but still a child. The time flies by, one day he is barely crawling around, and before I know it, I put him down and he doesn’t want to be picked up. “Kadie, I love you,” he whispers, stressing a duh sound. This moment is a calm in the storm. Tomorrow he may wake up and resist me, so I’ll take the love while I can. I gently sing the lines again and watch as he falls asleep. “Sawyer?” I ask into darkness. I wrap my arms around him holding him…

The sound of a gun being fired startles me awake. Something’s wrong. I lay in bed a few moments more, too afraid to move. But then, when that gun fires again, I’m rolling out from under the covers, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I move with a single-minded purpose now, heading towards the door of my room. Twisting the knob, I push it open and poke my head out. Across the hall, Derek is mirroring my movements, a single finger pressed against his lips. He closes the door with…

My lungs were ignited, heart stammering, every muscle threatened to cramp. If I had even stopped running, I would’ve met my demise. Everywhere around me were kids bolting towards the same place I was headed to, safety. Sirens were banging on my eardrums and I forced myself to run faster. I needed to get to the door before it closed. The cell doors started rattling, knew they were closing. If I didn’t make it their in time, then I would be history. An unknown hand grabbed my arm and pulled me…

Time stands still, frozen like New York in the wintertime. And all I can hear is the fast da dum da dum of my palpitating heart. Adrenaline spikes in waves through my clammy body. I look straight at the brown wooden door in front of me and pretend it is the audience. Taking a deep breath of the musky air, I envision myself bold and confident. My voice loud and clear, the words of my testimony flowing like a rushing river without a stutter or voice crack. The silence breaks as I feel a light tap…

marvelous. Camila Cabello is a novice as a solo artist who used to be in a group. Her group was keeping her from expressing her lyrical ability, which is why she went solo. Camila likes to write her own songs, because she can use her feelings, and put her heart into all her music, which is where she excels lyrically. When she sings, the listener can hear how well the lyrics go with her voice, because she wrote it herself, and because the listener can hear how emotionally connected she can be to…

goes wrong.” Well on the tank top it says ‘My mind says gym but my heart says tacos’ which is honestly me. After i put on the outfit i spun off to my bathroom to get ready. “Hmm, curly or straight? Curly… or straight? Hmm i'll just go with curly.” i plugged in the curler and put on some tunes but loud enough to where i could still hear the doorbell ring. As i was almost done with the last touches of my makeup i hear the faint sound of the doorbell going off. I jumped in excitement which in…