The club was filled with people. Their bodies tangled together as they dance. Neon lights flashed, turning Isabelle’s face shaped of pink, yellow and green. The heavy bass vibrated the padded dark walls. There was a long glass bar with men and women crowed together around it, each eager to quench their thirst. A man leaned his back against the bar and stir his drink his drink in one hand. He dressed in a white knit sweater and dark demin jeans. His sleeves rolled up revealing his tattoo covered arms. His dark hair, contrasted against his ivory skin. It hung messily over his hooded dark eyes. He stared hungrily at the pair of wide eyed girls that entered the room. He noticed her as soon as she walked in. She looked the same as the last time …show more content…
They slid off their outer layers and sat comfortably in the booth. Isabelle’s dark curls framed her plump cheeks, button nose, and wide eyes perfectly. She opted out of wearing heavy make-up; she felt it altered her appearance too much. Instead, she chooses to brush light mascara over her short lashes and Chap Stick over her full lips. A crooked scar above her lip faded into her coffee skin. The black tights, shapeless embroidered golden tunic, and short black booties, hide her curvy frame. She preferred covered her body, she hated the stares she would get from men, especially, when she only had eyes for one. Amy was the polar opposite she loved playing the role of the sexy siren. Her dyed fire red hair, was pinned up to the side with a slight wave, complimented her olive skin. Her eyebrows were perfectly arch and the dramatic cat eye framed her emerald colored eyes. Her lean body complemented the thigh length, silk dress she …show more content…
The waitress disappeared into the mass of patrons.
‘So, are you still considering leaving school?’ Amy asked
‘I’m thinking about it. My therapist say’s it healthy to be confused.’ Isabelle said fiddling with her fingers. Amy rolled her eyes. ‘I know you don’t understand, Amy. Things have just been hard since for me.’
‘I know it’s hard but you can’t keep hold your life up for him. You need to put him behind you.’ She said scolding her finger. Amy hated the hold he had on her. But she wasn’t surprised; they had been the thickest thieves since childhood.
‘I’m not. It’s not about him. I just don’t want to go to school anymore. It’s not for me.’
‘That’s bullshit. You’re the smartest person I know! Do you remember when you hacked into Ms.Egnles computer and gave me an ‘A’ on my senior project?’ Amy laughed
Isabelle laughed ‘Yeah. Those were good times’
The waitress reappeared with balancing a silver tray in one hand. She placed it on the circular table, along with two wine glasses
‘Ladies, here we have a bottle of Dom. Romane Conti
Lily is thinking “how much older fourteen had made [her]. In the space of a few hours [she’d] become forty years old.” She makes this connection after she realizes that maybe her mother's death could have not been her fault and that it could have been T. Ray’s and he was punishing her for it. This caused Lily to pack “...5 pairs of shorts, tops, ... shampoo, toothpaste...” $38 and a map (41-42). By doing this, it made her feel like she had aged, feeling like a 40 year old.
is masked by something, whether it be by a material object or one of her personality traits. The
Her face is smooth, calculated, and precision-made, like an expensive baby doll, skin like flesh- colored enamel, blend of white and cream and baby-blue eyes, small nose, pink little nostrils-everything working together except the color on her lips and fingernails, and the size of her bosom.
She continued, mad, in Lennie’s voice, “Don’ say you tried. He been doin’ nice things for you alla time. You ain’t...
3.?Against the dark background of the kitchen she stood up tall and angular, one hand drawing a quilted counterpane to her flat breast, while the other held a lamp. The light on a level with her chin, drew out of the darkness her puckered throat and the projecting wrist of the hand that clutched the quilt, and deepened fantastically the hollows and prominences of her high-boned face under its rings of crimping-pins. To Ethan, s...
Her mother had died after being hit by a reckless driver. Alice, a fifteen-year old, African-American girl, was now without her natural and most influential guide on how to cope with the powerful transition from girl to lady.
Amara groaned at the sound of an overly cheerful voice, in which had disturbed her beauty sleep. Sun rays shined against her skin as someone pulled open the blinds. Her blue hues fluttered open, revealing the excited brunette girl,
(Suspense. SYNOPSIS: 60-year-old Anne Irwin is thankful that she still has an excellent memory, until a surgical procedure makes her look more like a curse.)
Oh trust me, it's true. Isabelle might be the most ticklish person I've ever seen.
...and her chin. She was making a last ditch effort to try to make a distinction between her financial class and her mother's. The fact that she hid her entire face behind a pair of dark shades, is symbolic of her trying to put a barrier between herself and her poor past.
“Straining his eyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff. Then... everything went dark. Maggie woke up in her bed. “Finally woke up from that nightmare. Man… I miss my brother. Who was that person that my brother wanted to kill?” she looks at the clock and its 9:15am “Crap I’m late for work!” Maggie got in her car and drove to the hospital for work.
"Hello." The girl spoke softly, and couldn't hold his gaze as he stepped into the room, after having appraised her from
Hello, Efrain! Thanks for the message. Yes, I have seen the picture with butterflies absorbing minerals. I appreciate the artistry of the picture: the vivid butterflies on the background of the plain black soil with patches of reflected light.
Headline: Call me Ms Allure/ Call me Princess Leira/ Hello from PL Hello, ladies…Happy to meet you all. I was asked to join the Undercover team to talk about all things nice, all things pretty, all things lacy and all things fun. Oh, are you wondering who am I? I am not just the girl-next-door.
I also do wear makeup but just faintly enough to cover up the imperfections. Therefore, I need not to tire myself and re-do my makeup after every single bloody meal. Nancy was the same, she didn’t wear much makeup, not that she needed any. She had an almost-perfect face with features fit enough for her to be a model herself in the agency, instead of writing about them. Her round almond-shaped eyes were accompanied with lovely dark eyebrows that in contrary, matched her eye colour in return. Her nose was petite and small, a great silhouette of European heredity.