Asqueue

It's tough being pestered by people all the time, but working at a sales desk isn't exactly going to help the pestering. Sometimes I wish everyone would just leave and pester someone else who wanted to be pestered, like Carly in the desk next to mine, but if they went and pestered other people, I suppose I wouldn't get paid for not bringing in any new customers or sales, and then I'd be fired for that fact. I forced the customary smile upon my face as a teenage girl approached me. It was always the teenagers who picked me I've noticed. The older people tend to avoid me for some reason. Did I produce some sort of chemical that repulsed anyone

It felt like the stupidest thing in the world when I heard the news. Apparently we were suffering under a zombie apocalypse. It was so cliché that I couldn't help snorting and saying that it must all be a dumb prank. It was April Fools after all. And, as in most zombie apocalypse games and stories, I was most definitely wrong, proven by the zombie busting in through our always unlocked front door. However, contrary to most zombies I had ever seen, the clothes were intact, albeit a little bloody, he had a very tidy, well kept appearance, and he had retained the ability to speak. After the initial snarling and funny noises that zombies make, he

Autumn has always been my favourite season. It always looks so pretty, what with the leaves changing colours from a fresh summery green to bright crimson, oranges and yellow. My favourite tree is the Japanese maple in the park. In the summer it's a pretty light green, but in the autumn it completely changes and the leaves turn into a vivid dark red. It's such a beautiful tree all year round, but in autumn it is the best. I like the size too. It's not a particularly large tree, perhaps about only two metres at the moment. However it's still a young tree so it's going to grow bigger. They say it can grow up to 16 metres, but that's not very com

When I saw it my heart melted. It was probably the most adorable little thing I'd ever seen; it was such a cute ghost. I'd always been vaguely interested in the occult, ever since my grandmother had started telling me stories of how our ancestors used to be spirit mediums and exorcists and the like. I'd always wanted to be like them but there was one thing that stopped my eagerness from getting the better of me. My grandmother also told me that all of the spiritual people in our family tended to die early, and I mean really early. It was normally late thirties or early forties when some sort of horrible disease or accident came into play and

The Democratic Republic of Congo is beautiful. It's filled with internal strife and poverty, but the people are cheerful, they try their best and do what they can to survive. It's a lush fertile land in the area I live in. Living near a volcano might seem perilous to most people, and I too sometimes wonder when the volcano will erupt and kill me, but that doesn't stop Mount Nyiragongo from being any less beautiful. I've witnessed many of its minor eruptions, but I'm waiting for the day when the lava lake in its crater will finally overflow and drain down the sides, killing hundreds of people in its path. I was assigned here quite a while bac

When I'd first entered Garbedoire Academy, the first thing I'd been told by the older student taking me around was 'You need to join a safe club.' The next thing he said was 'Stay away from the Black Magic Society.' This had sparked my curiosity about the Black Magic Society but it also, like the warning was supposed to, kind of freaked me out, so I stayed away. I joined the art club instead. It was safe, I mean, what could possibly go wrong with paint and pencils? I was right, too. It was probably the safest choice I could have made, but it left me with too much free time on my hands, and I became more of a shadow member as I found myself wa

Heaven and hell, angels and demons are things that humans invented to understand their world, help keep each other on the 'straight and narrow' and to do what they thought was right. If you did bad things you went to hell, if you did good things you went to heaven. That was how they thought; it was all black and white for them. It's not that simple. It never has been, and never will be. There people who did bad things in order to do something good, like a father killing a man in order to protect his son. What do we class him as? Is he bad because he killed, or good because he saved another life? And what happens if a person truly regrets the