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HistoryIreland, 1847. During a time when the country was mostly rural, with many relying solely on potato farming, the Great Famine, beginning late 1845, spawned devastation. When a black mark appeared on your crops, the inside would be rotten. This would spread throughout all crops, ruining your only method of livelihood. This would result in poverty and starvation, with disease ravaging through the already weakened community.
Emigration was becoming common. The New World of America was the last hope for many, a distant dream. The cost of a ticket for a ship could be almost a lifetime's wages. On these ships, death was common. Those who made it were conned and discriminated against. But, with luck, a person could do well. The chance of survival in America was so much more than in Ireland, and many took that chance.
This is the story of Catherine Kelly, a seventeen year old farmgirl trying to find her own way during tough times.
Hitting the road-TG Caption
Danny pulled into Jackson's driveway. He shut off the car and opened the door. “I'll be right back, I'm going to go get him.” Danny said to Tyler who was sitting in the backseat eating a Twizzler.
“Alright,” he said munching on the red string. “Can you leave the radio on though?”
Danny put the key back into ignition and turned it to the radio setting.
“Yeah, I'll be back,”
Danny closed the door leaving Tyler in the car. Danny walked to the front door and knocked. He waited for a second then opened the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Styles, I'm here to pick up Jackson!!”
The living room TV was blaring the Spongebob theme song. Jackson's little sisters were sitting on the rug watching the intro. One of his sisters, Jenny, caught Danny walking in.
“Hey Danny!” She screamed.
Danny's other sister Jessica turned and joined in as well. “Hey Danny!”
Danny smiled and waved. “Hey Jessica and
Words in hugs and cuddles
Hey loved it when Donnie and he would cuddle. Yes they were older now, with Donnie being 11 and Mikey being 10. Yet somehow he still enjoyed the feelings he got when Donnie and he would huddle against each and cuddle. To feel Donnie’s arms around his shoulders holding him, shielding him, keeping him safe. It filled his chest with warm and happiness. It made him giggle and shift, trying to get Donnie to hold him tighter, while Donnie would giggle and do just that; wrapping his arms around his little brother even tighter.
“I like Donnie hugs.”
Behind him Donnie squeezed him a little tighter, while leaning in to nuzzle the side of his face. “and I like giving them to you.”
Again he giggled; this time from Donnie’s warm breath which tickled his neck and made him squirm. Making Donnie lean in and begin to tickle his sides.
Mikey squirmed, twisted and writhed. Doing his best to get away from h
yandere!Bertholdt x reader: Devil's spoke INTRO
By now, someone should have rousted you from bed and thrown you into training. The scratching of your nails on the mattress brought you out of your slumber. Softly groaning, you forced your eyes open and rubbed your face, everything around you still quiet. Your fingers tapped the headboard that sat against the wall, and your eyes scanned every detail of the bunk above you as your mind tried to wake up enough to consider leaving your sheets. The absolute silence reminded you that no one else could be awake. There were snores, peaceful sighs and tossing and turning. You almost missed the sound of heavy boots stomping down the hall at night, your father never practicing the art of not shaking the house as he walked. A rather obnoxious sound, really, but a sound at least.
At last there was a noise other than yourself. You heard the bed springs above you creak and you looked over to meet blue eyes. Annie, the girl that slept above you, was leaning over the side of her mattress; her upside d
words while sick
Mikey watched as in front of him Donnie coughed for a moment before letting out a gentle wheeze. “sorry……can't play……today.”
Mikey shook his head, “Downy be better.”
As he spoke he leaned over making sure the small blanket that was draped over his older brother covered as much of him as it could. Under the blankets Donnie smiled weakly. “I’ll…..be ok…… need rest.”
Behind him Mikey felt Leo and Raph shift, “we leave you now Donnie. Get better.”
Donnie nodded and closed his eyes, doing his best to draw in deep breaths but only succeeding in making himself cough more.
Mike felt his brother’s touch his shoulder, trying to get him to follow them out of the room. But he ignored them, shrugging off their touches as he moved in closer to Donnie. “help?”
Donnie opened an eye and looked at him. “m…Mikey?”
Mikey nodded, “how help?”
Donnie smiled wea
The Lives We Lead (CHAPTER 7.5)CHAPTER 7.5
Slowly Donnie woke, blinking as he slowly sat up. looking across the room he bit his lip. Raphael had shifted, he no longer lay under the covers and blankets but instead sat sitting on top of them. he’d pulled on his underwear and pants with his shirt slung over his shoulder, while he held his head in his hands. As Donnie watched Raph's sides shook slightly. “R….raph?” Donnie’s voice made Raph flinch slightly, yet still the red turtle turned a little to look at him with one eye. “oh……sorry…….I…….I didn’t mean to……….wake you.” Sitting up a little more Donnie made sure to keep the blankets around his chest and neck; there was no need to remind Raph of what had happened the night before. “raph……..are you…….ok?” he watched as Raph took another breath his sides shaking. “I………I……….” h
The Gatherer of TwigsThe flames don’t burn. They itch... as week old tattoos often do. A wildfire of orange and gold crawls from my ankle to my knee, my left leg engulfed forever. I’ve been branded by a demon, its soul sinking into my skin like enchanted ink.
This happens every time, I carry one mark for each soul I have reaped. My right forearm bears a feather from a Phoenix, there is a lone wing in blinding white that takes up half my back from the only Angel I've ever taken. Vibrant cerulean and jade scales swirl around my neck like a collar- those appeared after a pair of Selkies. A tangle of hissing snakes wrap around my left thigh thanks to a nasty, ancient Gorgon. I also have waves on my ass cheeks from a snarky Leviathan and a zombie Chihuahua dressed in pink on my left bicep from an even snarkier Hellhound.
I am a reaper, guiding the souls of only supernatural beings to the afterlife. I am not Death. I do not wear a hooded cloak or carry a scythe. Death is a cranky bastard and ri
Paperthin Hymn: EpilogueChristian stirred the vegetable mixture in the skillet and lowered the temperature to a simmer. The savory smell still carried into the office/studio space in the room adjacent, where boxes were currently stacking up slowly but surely. The windows were always open at least an inch or two these days. More, if the weather was permitable. Angel statuettes were gathered up in careful hands and wrapped up in layer upon layer of tissue paper. Despite their falling out, Natasha had come through with those clients who wanted his work. It was a huge blessing that one of them happened to fall in love with his angel series and rush order nearly half of the entire stock. He was in a good mood. Today was a Thursday night. Cadence said she would come tonight.
Humming to herself, Cadence folded her wings and easily landed on a windowsill. She breathed a soft, contented sigh as she looked through the window and smiled. It was impossible to stand here and not think of the rainy day she had first stood
Every Breath You Take || Ch. 8Berwyn wasn't a large town, and in a church this size, everyone seemed to know each other. Except for those two strangers sitting in the fifth pew. The two bulky men watched the speaker with unshakable scrutiny.
"So many times, God has taken extremes into new context. Bringing the darkness into His glorious light." Pastor Simmons gripped the podium enthusiastically as he voiced his sermon. "The ungodly Samaritan is the admiral protagonist. The prodigal son honored more than his righteous, loyal brother. And the tiniest mustard seed, equated with weeds, can move mountains with a droplet of faith."
Sam saw Dean roll his eyes in her peripheral vision. He sent him a tight lipped smile, hoping his brother could be patient enough not to disturb the parishioners. Still, though, he could understand his discomfort. They were being stared at by a new face every two seconds... Like they had come in covered head to toe in dirt or something.
At least it felt like that.
1847 -Part 1She sat on the church pew, her head resting on her hands. Her dark hair was loose and matted, the dress she wore stained. Voices muttered around her, though there were very few people in the church.
"Miss Catherine?" A low voice called out, echoing throughout the building. The girl lifted her head slowly, as if the effort was nearly too much. Her hazel eyes looked for the source that had spoken her name, finally locking on a young man.
"Hello, William," she addressed him as she recognized the tall man. Feeling a tear escape her eye, she quickly wiped it away.
"Is anything wrong, if you don't mind me asking?" He questioned, sliding into the wooden pew beside her.
"My mother died today," she replied, her tired gaze switching from William towards the front of the church. "Fever finally took her."
William nodded slowly. "She'll be in a better place than this," he said in an attempt to comfort her.
"I want her here, William," she muttered, turning to face him.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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