The baby's pure laughter fills the room. Holding his son close and drinking in the sound, the young father thinks of his own painful childhood. A deep gratitude for this little life surges through his soul, and he vows with every fiber of his being to surround his boy with joy.

Chapter 2 "I remember" of the blog story Little texts is now published.

Childhood dreams like winding paths now. The yearning of seeing blue birds, blue skies and blue rivers again. When long-time memories you remember, long-time memories they become. Yet.. was the river carmin all this time?

-Tell me what you want to tell me in here, Teddy. -Inside there? I don't fit in there, Alice. -I see now, you are very, very big! -I'm not big, the door is narrow! -So, aren't you coming? -You go Alice, I'll wait and when you come back I'll tell you what I wanted to say so much. -Promise you'll wait for me? -Of course! What kind of teddy bear would I be if I didn't wait? -A bad guy... I think. -Well, go soon before you think too much and end up hugging me again, Alice. Should i continue??

"AAAHHHHH! He had no face! He had no face!..." "She's insane" "He had no face!" "Send her to an institution" "NO, NO!..." GROẞ HE WILL BE SEEKING... Release: 5/20/23 (Should be ok for younger audiences but there are jumpscares and faceless people, like skin covering the face not blood or gore) New Episode of Kircus Kreeps TOMORROW, I changed my plans of it being every Monday to every two days.

Huyendo siempre... Tan lejos como se pueda, de aquellas ilusiones que brillan con la luz del sol, aquellas sonrisas que parecen amigas pero apuñalan sin piedad, con un rencor indulgente, con una libertad egoísta. Llorando siempre... Con lágrimas de plata iluminados por aquella luz madre, con el camuflaje de las sombras y la oscuridad, siendo fuente y receptor de los cursos del odio, la negación. Sonriendo siempre... Así como la noche, hay tanto que ocultar, tanto dolor que no se puede explicar.

We appear to be in the living room of the towns best private eye. Looking around, noticing the black patterned glass coffee table in the middle of the white fluffy carpeted floor. Hearing the sound of ticks coming from a flowery porcelain clock, that is situated in the middle of a hanging shelf, a framed picture either side of the ticking clock. The rising sun is peeping through the partially open curtains. It’s definitely morning, the clock hands are telling me the time is half seven. Faint…

David warns everyone in close proximity, “Move Away! BOMB!” *0:01* There is still a forensic officer upstairs, that has heard all the commotion and is running down the stairs, a few steps from the bottom. *0:00* The forensic officer jumps the last few steps, making it to the front doorway, over their shoulder is the place where the exploding bomb is, fire explodes out from under the stairs. KABOOM! The forensic officer is lifted off the ground from the exploding house…

A *Gasp* comes from Terry at the sight that beholds him. I’m sure he has seen a few dead bodies in his time, but nothing like this, as he moves closer to look at the deceased person slumped in the chair, crunching of glass under his shoes. David still looks around the room for his voice recorder but doesn’t find them…

A few years ago I had a big nightmare. A nightmare I didn't even know lived, because to myself was naivete and innocence — We're just kidding— That's what he always said as he ran his filthy penis on me I looked at him in frustration, I didn't know if that was right or wrong, but I trusted him. — Don't be afraid ... I won't hurt you— He pulled me closer as I watched his hand descend and rise on his cock. — Do you like milk? To be continued...

Dean went to the garden and started looking at the children who were planted. —Very poor quality this year. —Sorry —said the clerk—. This year there was a drought of love and they couldn't grow. He frowned and took one reluctantly, releasing it into the basket. —Never mind. I have a nutrient that will make it grow in no time. When he left, all the children were left crying with their feet buried, hungry for love.

The crowd had spoken outside of the chat...the new series will be summoned NEXT WEEK! A tale that no one would dare summon...Myth Death! You will be frightened by a huge jump from Chupacabras (Goatsucker in Spanish), Jersey Devil, Loch Ness Monster, etc. Beware of the monsters that awaken and survive through the dark nights, we'll be waiting... Release: NEXT Friday! Right after the Kircus Kreeps finale!

The crowd had spoken outside of the chat...the new series will be summoned NEXT WEEK! A tale that no one would dare summon...Myth Death! You will be frightened by a huge jump from Chupacabras (Goatsucker in Spanish), Jersey Devil, Loch Ness Monster, etc. Beware of the monsters that awaken and survive through the dark nights, we'll be waiting... Release: NEXT Friday! Right after the Kircus Kreeps finale!

“I’m scared, momma.” The little girl clutched her mother, big eyes locked onto the dark sky above her. “Why, little dove?” The mother whispered. “The sky’s yelling at me.” As if on cue, lighting and thunder struck again. The mother giggled. “It’s not screaming at you, love. It’s mourning with you. It’s trying to show you that it can cry too, so you’re not alone anymore.” The girl looked at the photo in her lap. “But I’m not alone, momma. You’re right in my lap, see?”

-a constructive criticism hated by many You can tell I’m a rare breed. My favourite toy as a child, other than dolls and cars- that I stole from my brothers was the television. For many the start of trouble For me just a ‘Pandora’s Box’ An encyclopedia of knowledge A box that flipped channels without a mouse And gave me non printed information at my house Without stressing a muscle

-a constructive criticism hated by many You can tell I’m a rare breed. My favourite toy as a child, other than dolls and cars- that I stole from my brothers was the television. For many the start of trouble For me just a ‘Pandora’s Box’ An encyclopedia of knowledge A box that flipped channels without a mouse And gave me non printed information at my house Without stressing a muscle

-a constructive criticism hated by many You can tell I’m a rare breed. My favourite toy as a child, other than dolls and cars- that I stole from my brothers was the television. For many the start of trouble For me just a ‘Pandora’s Box’ An encyclopedia of knowledge A box that flipped channels without a mouse And gave me non printed information at my house Without stressing a muscle

-a constructive criticism hated by many You can tell I’m a rare breed. My favourite toy as a child, other than dolls and cars- that I stole from my brothers was the television. For many the start of trouble For me just a ‘Pandora’s Box’ An encyclopedia of knowledge A box that flipped channels without a mouse And gave me non printed information at my house Without stressing a muscle

-a constructive criticism hated by many You can tell I’m a rare breed. My favourite toy as a child, other than dolls and cars- that I stole from my brothers was the television. For many the start of trouble For me just a ‘Pandora’s Box’ An encyclopedia of knowledge A box that flipped channels without a mouse And gave me non printed information at my house Without stressing a muscle

-a constructive criticism hated by many You can tell I’m a rare breed. My favourite toy as a child, other than dolls and cars- that I stole from my brothers was the television. For many the start of trouble For me just a ‘Pandora’s Box’ An encyclopedia of knowledge A box that flipped channels without a mouse And gave me non printed information at my house Without stressing a muscle

There are too many grieving momma's in this world.

~ Somewhere on the hill, I was alive. Somewhere in the yellow house with the crooked door, I did survive. Somewhere on the walls are my crayon drawings, hidden behind a shelf. Somewhere in the halls, I was twelve. I was nine. I was four. And somewhere in that very house my tears did pour. I was two, I was one, I didn't realize what my parents had become. I was non-existent, when my parents were persistent, they wanted a house. A yellow one. And raise two kids loved by everyone But themselves. ~

~ Somewhere on the hill, I was alive. Somewhere in the yellow house with the crooked door, I did survive. Somewhere on the walls are my crayon drawings, hidden behind a shelf. Somewhere in the halls, I was twelve. I was nine. I was four. And somewhere in that very house my tears did pour. I was two, I was one, I didn't realize what my parents had become. I was non-existent, when my parents were persistent, they wanted a house. A yellow one. And raise two kids loved by everyone But themselves. ~

Estas tan cerca y tan lejos, al alzar mis manos, mis pupilas capturan a la perfección el como serías entre mis dedos cuando podrías simplemente aplastarme. ¿cómo logras ser tan brillante aún estando tan lejos? ¿Podrías decirme?, necesito saberlo. Aunque también te escondes y cuando creíamos que el cielo se vería obscuro apareces de nuevo en un fino comienzo. No dejes de seguirme al caminar ni mucho menos desaparecer cuando finas y anchas gotas caen por mis mejillas. aunque solo seas un satélite.

When I'm an adult I want a big house. With a pool. The house needs to be red, unlike mom's and dad's. I want a big garden, with an apple tree and a swing. A cozy bedroom, a door I can lock and a bed I don't have to hide under. A nice kitchen with cupboards where I can put something else other than wine and beer bottles. A bathroom where I can cry without being bothered, where no one would see my scars in the mirror. And I want to have a cat, a black one. And I'll be happy.

When I'm an adult I want a big house. With a pool. The house needs to be red, unlike mom's and dad's. I want a big garden, with an apple tree and a swing. A cozy bedroom, a door I can lock and a bed I don't have to hide under. A nice kitchen with cupboards where I can put something else other than wine and beer bottles. A bathroom where I can cry without being bothered, where no one would see my scars in the mirror. And I want to have a cat, a black one. And I'll be happy.

When I'm an adult I want a big house. With a pool. The house needs to be red, unlike mom's and dad's. I want a big garden, with an apple tree and a swing. A cozy bedroom, a door I can lock and a bed I don't have to hide under. A nice kitchen with cupboards where I can put something else other than wine and beer bottles. A bathroom where I can cry without being bothered, where no one would see my scars in the mirror. And I want to have a cat, a black one. And I'll be happy.