A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY. When a falling meteorite kills one of the first four colonists of Mars, the survivors must confront what it means to live and die on the new frontier.
Imagine that you live next to a really spooky house! Imagine all the stories you'd hear! Imagine if all of those stories were true? What would you do?
"it hurts like hell to be torn apartand it hurts like hell to be thrown around"
This Valentine's Day was supposed to be the same old, same old for Mark. He was supposed to finish his shift working at the supermarket, purchase his favorite junkfood, then head home for a night alone watching Netflix and playing League of Legends.He wasn't supposed to run into Jackson, the boy he's had a crush on forever, and they weren't supposed to get locked in the store afterhours.
After the events of Arc 1, Sonic, Shadow, NiGHTS, and a newcomer must now find a way to make things right.Sorry for the low-quality cover, it was a bit of a rushed job.
А что, если недописанное произведение вдруг станет реальностью, а второстепенный персонаж, столь скромно вписанный в строки, окажется не плодом фантазии, а настоящим живым человеком?Работа так же есть на Фикбуке. Если есть ошибки ,то сообщите о них, пожалуйста!(Моя четверта робота)
Prohibition is the law of the land, but Nellie needs cash - after socking a gangster in the face, she's got ten days to make it right. Frightened and caught empty-handed, Nellie turns bootlegger.She accepts a job from her sly friend Lola to pick up some liquor. It should be a cinch, seeing as how Nellie's dependable mechanic friend Felix volunteers to help drive her car. But an encounter at a speakeasy sends idealistic cop Lester on the chase - and he's not exactly looking for cash.As tensions between Chicago lawmen and gangs grow worse by the day, all the fast talking in the world might not be enough to keep Nellie and her friends out of jail. Or alive. * * * * * * * * * * Felix drums his fingers along the steering wheel. A man exits the other car, dressed to the nines with a fine-looking fedora. A very bad feeling begins to swirl inside my chest. He's certainly no cop. The attendant is hurrying with the pump. Felix has tensed beside me, staring with fascination directly ahead. "Are they watching us?" "The one fella is." Felix presses his lips together. But he knows we can't leave. We need the gas. Felix has a back-up can of it stowed somewhere but that's for emergencies. Is this a real emergency? One of the other fellas hops out. Before the door slams I notice what his still-seated friend is holding. A tommy gun. My skin prickles. Felix pales. We're just playing at bootlegging now. But those folks are the real deal-complete with hired guns to protect their hooch. Felix's hand moves to the starter and I knock it away. The one in the fedora has seen us. He casually makes his way over and I know our story isn't good enough; this guy will notice we snooped even when we didn't mean to and we'll be in some sort of a mess. So I ditch our story. I throw myself at Felix and kiss him as thoroughly as I know how.
Нэгэн шуурхай мэдээнээс энэ бүгд эхлэсэн Өөрөө ч мэдээгүй байхад аль хэдийн сар үерхсэн болчихсон байсан
This is the story of a kid named Conan Techy and his adventures.