STOPHERE📍

  giphy.com Popular magazine editor Anita Suresh died last night in a car accident in Mumbai. She was the founding member and chief editor of the popular women’s magazine, “Patralekh” She survived by… What the hell! What is happening? Niti grabbed her head; suddenly, she felt an intense band of pain. Breathing hard, she collapsed on her bed and closed her eyes, massaging her forehead. Two rejection e-mails and two deaths, this is unbelievable. 💻 Niti Sehgal, a writer who was disappointed when her work was rejected by publishers, never knew she had a hidden talent within her. To know more about Niti's hidden talent, read ''SHOOTING MR SUMMER & 7 STORIES''. SHOOTING MR SUMMER & 7 STORIES

  phoneky.com You can’t shed your clothes Someone else will do it Without any shame Don’t you know? It’s all in the game! 💄 CREAK

      www.pinterest.com   Dinesh nodded his head silently, then he gazed at her. 'How are you, by the way, we haven't spoken for a couple of days now,' he said. 'I am glad you are noticing things,' Ritu replied tartly. Suddenly, Dinesh stepped forward and held her hand, 'Ritu, you are mistaken about a few things, I have always...' but before he could finish, the blue sirens went off with a loud clanging sound. There was suddenly some kind of eruption. 'Dinesh, what is it?' Ritu cried out in alarm. 'Ritu, I think the patient is haemorrhaging, if I am sure,' Dinesh answered, sounding a bit confused. Before Ritu could answer, the alarms started blaring.  ‘CODE RED CODE RED CODE RED’ 'We must leave here now, find the rest of the team,' Dinesh suggested, his voice panicking. They held hands and rushed out of the cabin into the pathway that led to the ‘EAT’ section. They had taken just a few steps when what they saw seemed...

  pinterest.com  Then she stands  With her arms wider And jumps over the hill Like a bird with new wings She flies. 💔 CREAK

  reddit.com He plunged the knife deep into the man’s stomach. The stabbed man screamed a sound like he had never heard before, something like speakers tied to his ears. The scream made him take a step back involuntarily; he was astonished that a human body could scream in such a manner, and the vocal cords could scream so loudly without tearing themselves. It was unbelievable. He pulled the knife out, having to exert himself, as the seven-inch blade resisted the pull, the sinews and muscles and the body fat resisting the pull, trying to hold back the blade. It was a tug of war between his hand and the stabbed man’s stomach. However, he was an expert in the art of stabbing; he twisted the knife a little and, with more force, he wrenched it free. The man screamed again as the knife left his body, blood gushed out of the gaping wound, and air seemed to rush in and out. Holding his stomach, the man lurched backwards and screamed again. The sound seemed to explode in the air, reverbera...

  giphy.com Iztak Salal knew that he must do his work very quietly, very patiently; he must not draw any attention to himself or to what he was seeking. The book, which he carried in a bag, was slung across his chest, and he could get himself killed if seen by the right eyes. It was a book of medicine, an ancient book, but written for Ayurveda, written for Hinduism, for the knowledge of Hindus only, and he was aware of how Hinduism functioned. The Hindus were a tight-lipped people, hardly sharing anything with others around them, and the world at large; sharing knowledge was the last thing they would ever dream of. For them, Islam was not only a strange religion but an aberration. Somehow, in many ways, in things big and small of daily life, they tolerated Islam; for one thing, Hindus were known for their infinite and world-weary patience. Iztak Salal knew that if not for the book he had found, their paths would never have crossed. But now he must cross that wide chasm between ...

  emito.net Like a restless soul So it’s time for me to go And do Suicide 🔚 CREAK