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I'M Counting The Days Until,
I Won't Become A Storyteller.....

I'M Counting The Days Until,
I Restart My Life Again.....

I'M Counting The Days Until,
You Won't Except That You Love Me.....

I'M Counting The Days Until,
I Write My Life Story Till The End....

I'M Counting The Days Until,
I Wouldn't Be Able To Change The World........

I'M Counting The Days Until,
I Won't Become A Storyteller.....
#Counting#Days#Life#Love#Life #story#Change#world........

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#mylove

THE RED HILL’S KING
 
Rise, O Red Hill’s King!
Prep your armies vast.
The demon horde conches the music o’ war.
Here arrives the beastly Son of Satan from South.
 
Your wicked Queen ran away,
Dealt your ancestral Holy Casket to the Beast.
The dark prodigy advances,
An ambition to annex your empire with Hell.
 
Why you drink now, my Lord?
This ain’t no cause of revel, you imbecile.
The royal sages forewarned,
Yet had no impact on your head.
 
O there he comes,
There they lay, your murdered guards.
Red Hill’s besieged,
Enters the Beast in your Royal Court.
 
 
Stomps and shatters your Holy Casket,
Stomps and shatters your peace.
Down on your knees you beg mercy,
Yet Ares directs to war.
 
Draws your sword from your scabbard
And strikes it at the Beast’s belly.
Stands, he, unscathed
And you, my Lord, in horror.
 
Gropes, he, from your hair
And drags you out on battlefield.
The ghastly battalion awaits,
For a sacrifice to Satan’s broth.
 
Your General marches forth aside,
Your army fearlessly behind,
You slice your sword at the Beast’s wrist
And you join your forces to command.
 
The gruesome clash begins,
A battle of Herculean might.
Fearlessly ride, you,
Slaying the monsters of the Beast.
 
Down goes your tower,
Down goes your castle to ruination.
Demonic catapults fire upon your army,
Diminishing your numbers’ might.
 
Unaffected, you charge,
Take the demon Beast head on.
Your General rides along with you,
Your most loyal warrior, a true Lancelot.
 
Down falls your number vast,
Down falls the Beast’s horde,
Your General trips down the usurper,
You strike his chest and splice his heart out.
 
Falls the Beast silent,
Drained off his flesh and blood.
You raise your sword sky-high,
The demon horde bewildered.
 
Retreats down the Hill,
The mighty usurper’s forces,
Take your sword to your reliquary,
A blade carrying the Beast’s heart.
 
Replace your Holy Casket with it,
Display your glory;
Head back to your throne,
And reclaim your inner peace.
 
Rebuilds your castle, brick-by-brick,
Regains your kingdom’s might.
Yet peace is afar,
For the fugitives still revolt.
 
Your remainder army suppresses them,
You rule your kingdom,
But the sky grows dark again,
A new struggle dawns.
 
Enters your General in Royal Court,
Speaks well of you from the commoner’s mouth.
Self’s glory lost amidst,
Exits the Court, this Machiavellian.
 
Enters the reliquary, this fallen comrade,
Takes your glorious blade
And dips the Beast’s heart
In the raging Satan’s flame.
 
Places the burning heart, he,
Into the bony ribs of imprisoned Beast’s remains.
Monster is revived,
A scion of Hell’s vengeance.
 
Rises the Devil Beast,
Snaps the neck of your General, my Lord.
Rises, he, from his dingy cell,
Into his ethereal form.
 
Burns a hole in your castle’s foundation,
Brings it down brick-for-brick.
A quake shakes the ground he walks,
Raises back his army, undead.
 
The demon ghouls march forth,
Revived under their commander,
Numbers regained.
A multitude of Death.
 
Your demeanour broken, my Lord,
Your numbers spent.
Your castle crumbles,
Your kingdom in mortal peril.
 
Ride out, you, to the battlefield,
With your remaining cavalry.
Infantry armed by your inspiration,
And scantily by armour and weapons.
 
Drawn close to each other,
The Beast and you;
A word to propagate upon,
Before the climactic bloodshed.
 
Beast: “Surrender, Red Hill’s King.
Naught hath happened irrevocable.
Surrender thee, and I
Shall make thee, my well-paid herald.”
 
King: “Nay! Thy fiery demon.
Pierce my bosom’s heart,
Mutilate my corpse!
The soul within shall reunite with the Holy Kingdom!”
 
Angrily, the Beast replies:
“Father Satan shall hath
Thy soul as his broth!”
And swings his mace down upon the King.
 
The Red Hill’s King with all his might,
Blocks the charge with his sword.
“Charge!” says you, my Lord,
And your loyal army advances to war.
 
The epic clash begins,
The gruesome war ensues,
Your numbers fully spent,
You retreat to your ruins.
 
Afraid and wounded, you flee,
Sends your last man to West.
Finds a cavern deep below
The ruins of your castle, to hide.
 
Marches forth the Beast
To your hideout.
Pulls you out like a worm from ground,
Drags you back, you cowardly wretch.
 
Tosses you in front of himself,
Orders his ghoulish force at halt.
Challenges your might, your glory,
In a head-on duel.
 
You arm yourself with your renowned blade,
The Beast with his fiery mace.
Prance upon one-another,
To decide this Age’s fate.
 
Valour you show, O mighty Red Hill’s Lord,
But your courage has no impact upon the Beast.
Every scar, every strain upon his body,
Brings you close to Hell’s wrath.
 
Has had enough antics, the Beast,
Strikes you with his mighty mace,
Your armour saves your bosom,
Yet you cough out blood.
 
Strikes, he, down his mace again,
Down upon your back.
You eat the dirt of your soil,
Adulterated by your royal blood.
 
Weary and wounded you lie,
Puddle of blood on the ground.
Choked by your final breaths,
Await you, my Lord, for Hades to embrace you.
 
Mercilessly beats the Beast, you,
No force against him standing.
The conch shells blow again,
Atop the Western hill.
 
The royal army stands firm,
Led by the Empress of West.
War-elephants, cavalry, infantry; all present,
Awaiting their Queen’s express command.
 
The Beast halts his shower of brutality,
Stares determined upon the Empress.
Her army marches forth,
To settle this Age’s final score.
 
The pace quickens of the Empress’ army,
Their cavalry gallops down with vigour.
The pace quickens of the ghoulish army,
All set for Hell’s sacrilege.
 
You, my Lord, find your humungous trumpet,
In the wreckage of your castle,
Makes it massive blow heard to all,
Your final battle cry.
 
The demons and the royals clash,
The Beast takes on the Empress.
So graceful and glorious is she,
Her legends come true to witness.
 
Slices clean the Beast’s legs,
Slices clean his abdomen in upper cut.
The Beast taken aback,
Continues to challenge her glory.
 
Makes their way down, the Empress’ war chariots,
Downhill with their bladed wheels.
Cuts the ghouls in pieces many,
Until the Beast stands solitary.
 
O Red Hill’s King, you
Grab a bow and arrow.
The string pulled with all your strength,
For one last of your move.
 
The Empress knocks down the Beast,
Stabs her blade in his chest.
You, my Lord, fire your arrow,
And blind this raging bull.
 
Drained, you fall incapacitated,
Yet the Beast rises again.
The sky echoes ferocious roars,
Fly down the Royal Winged-Lions of East.
 
Land and prance upon the Beast, they
Gnaw him to his bone.
Their sharp sabres dug in,
More effective than a mortal blade.
 
Chunks of flesh eaten away,
Stands up, the Beast, in a wobbly way.
The Hell’s Serpent constricts from beneath his feet,
Drags him down for his Father’s broth.
 
Lies you, my Lord, within Death’s grasp,
The Empress declares the war won to you.
Peacefully, you fall asleep for eternity,
A smile upon your face.
 
The Empress prays a seat for you in Heaven’s Court,
Takes back your glorious sword as her relic.
Cremates your body upon this war-torn land,
A history to be never subject to oblivion.
 
Comes down from Heaven, the Eternal King,
Down upon the Red Hill.
Annexes your empire to His,
Blesses your soul for afterlife’s journey.
 
Satan looks up at the Eternal King,
Swears vengeance in a soliloquy.
The present’s sunny sky- a canvas,
God smiles and hurls his roaring thunderbolt.
 
-----------X-----------
 

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As always, everyone in this story is eighteen years or older. This is a completely standalone story totally apart from my intricately related other ones.

A heads-up for those with short attention spans: this is long. Look elsewhere for a quick fix. I won't judge you for looking for something shorter and please don't judge me.

A heads-up for the squeamish types too: there are equal parts incest and anal here. Hope that's your cup of tea.

Enjoy.

Words on Skin: A little sister can't say some things out loud

*~*~* Part I *~*~*

Lizzie watched as her best friend Jessica brushed past her brother again on her way through their kitchen. The house was packed full of people and there was plenty to eat and drink in every room but Jess still managed to find a reason to swing through the kitchen every fifteen minutes to flirt with her brother.

"Heya stud," Jessica smiled, "it really is nice to see you back around these parts again. I kinda missed you." She winked, nodded at Lizzie and wandered off again with a few gratuitous wiggles of her curvy hips.

Lizzie's brother leaned into her with the question she saw coming, "Okay, what's with Jess? Does she like me now or something?"

Lizzie smirked and waited until Jessica turned a corner out of earshot. "Let's just say she likes the kinds of things she could do with you."

"And what kinds of things might they be?"

"You're the dumbest smart guy I know but even you're not that dumb. Either take that frisky cheerleader friend of mine upstairs and find out for yourself or stay down here and hang out with your adorable kid sister. Sounds like a close one. Want me to get a coin for you to flip, Scooter?"

"Don't bother dog-girl, I'm going with plan A."

Lizzie watched her brother toddle after Jessica. As consolation, she took a long swig of her beer, swallowed, and howled softly to herself, "Bawoo."

Her brother Richard was a year older and actually was the dumbest smart guy she knew. Sometimes she swore he couldn't see the nose in front of his face. He was pure book smarts from head to toe. He'd steamrolled through high school - racking up the highest GPA in the school's history then nailed a perfect SAT. He'd even be finishing up his undergraduate ahead of schedule. Less than three years for a physics degree at one of the best programs in the country? Who the hell could compete with that?

Lizzie sighed. She was proud of her big brother but sometimes he made her feel small. All she could do was run. Ba-frickin'-woo.

The "dog-girl" and "bawoo" thing? That started when her middle school track coach came to visit their house after school eight years ago. Lizzie and her brother snuck to the top of the stairs to listen to the grown-ups talking down in the kitchen.

"You have a lovely home, Miss Robbins, and I appreciate your agreeing to see me. I know you're a busy woman so I won't take up too much of your time. I'm happy to tell you that you have a very gifted child."

"I'm quite proud of Richard, but I thought..."

"I'm not here to talk about your son. I'm here to talk about Elizabeth. I'm her track coach. I thought you should know that Liz is an excellent runner. In fact, she may just be the best I've ever seen."

"Really? I mean, I guess she has always been quick on her little feet. If I look away for a second she's gone."

Lizzie remembered beaming proudly at Richard upstairs. She took this as a big compliment.

"It's more than just that, Miss Robbins. Look, middle school kids? Even the fast ones? They're a mess when they run, all of them pushing and shoving to get up front, to lead right from the beginning. It's complete chaos. None of them have the maturity or the patience to pace themselves. To hang back and wait for the right time to make their move. Hell, most of them won't even figure that out in high school. But not Lizzie. She's... she's very special."

"How so?"

"You need to come to our track meets. To support her and see what I mean at the same time. Lizzie doesn't run. She... well... she chases." The coach's voice grew more excited, "She does it every race. It's a beautiful thing to watch. Less than halfway through, Lizzie falls in a few yards behind the lead girl. She tracks her. She... she drives her. Heck, she even baits her. Then at the very end, Lizzie simply runs her down. Honestly, I don't think I'd even call what Liz does 'cross-country.' She's not just running. She's hunting. Like a... like a little dingo."

Upstairs, Richard hugged her with one arm and teased her softly, "Sweet, Mom's going to buy you a flea collar, sis."

"Bawoo," Lizzie howled quietly into his shoulder and giggled.

It was her very first bawoo.

Of course, the coach's offhand nickname stuck with Lizzie and "Li'l Dingo" would eventually be stitched across the back of her track uniforms.

As the years went by, Lizzie ran and ran and her body changed. By high school, the quick little blonde pixie became a sleek and slender young woman. Lizzie looked like a gazelle but she still ran like a predator. Chasing. Hunting. Winning. In fact, she would win state finals in cross country each of her four years in high school, a feat unheard of before Lizzie.

People even came to track meets to watch her. And who could blame them? She was hotter than hell in her school's skimpy little track uniforms, long, sleekly muscled legs and bobbing little breasts. Her finishes were always spectacular too. After loping along patiently at the number two spot for three miles, she'd get this crazy little grin. Then her legs would stretch, they'd quicken, and Lizzie would start her race. Without fail, she'd chase that poor last girl down like something small and tasty.

Two months ago, when Lizzie broke through the yellow tape at her last high school race, she didn't have to howl for herself. Her coaches, her family, and classmates were doing it for her, for their favorite little dingo, "Bawoo! Bawoo!"

Lizzie snapped out of her reminiscing when Richard reappeared with Jessica. The curvy, raven-haired cheerleader winked at Lizzie as she led her brother upstairs. One of Jessica's hands was already playing at the bottom of her tight tank top, obviously itching to get it off. Jessica liked to show off her body and Lizzie didn't blame her. Speaking objectively, Jessica's breasts were spectacular and she had every right to be proud of them. Of course, half the guys in their high school class could draw them from memory. Perhaps Jess was a little too proud of her boobs.

Lizzie took the next couple of minutes to finish her beer then she set it down. She chewed her lip again, pondering, then decided to follow them. She was more than a little curious and she knew her brother well. Odds were that he'd be too distracted by Jessica's charms to shut his sticky bedroom door completely.

She crept up towards his bedroom and she was right. There was a quite peekable gap left. She sat herself tipsily down on the floor for a little bit of perving. Okay, a lot of perving.

From the look of things, Richard was having one of the best nights of his life. Jessica had always been that perfect cheerleadery mix of flexibility and eagerness that drove guys crazy.

At that moment, Jessica was topless and cupping her oversized, flawless breasts in her hands with her lips wrapped around half of Richard's cock. Lizzie gaped. Her brother's erection was impressive and while Jess was working her mouth down on it steadily, she was definitely struggling. Her full lips strained to fit around his shaft. When she finally swallowed his entire length, she groaned from her chest and bobbed slightly.

Lizzie had to admit, Jess knew how to please a guy. The curvy brunette never forgot to look up and keep eye-contact with her brother even as her hands slid down from her own tits and under her skirt to quickly drag a small white thong down and off.

Yep, Jess knew what she was doing. Lizzie watched as her gal pal ditched her skirt then scooted onto the bed on her back and spread her legs. Lizzie and her brother's eyes were both drawn to the same place. Jessica was shaved completely bare. Her tiny glistening sex was a perfectly smooth and pink invitation. Scooter paused only long enough to finish getting his pants off and quickly slid on top of her.

Lizzie watched her friend's mouth fall open as Richard eased himself into her. Jess shifted and pulled her legs up very high, limberly hooking them over Richard's shoulders. Yep, flexible and eager. Damn cheerleaders.

For the next half hour, Lizzie watched her brother make love to her best friend. She was appalled and excited at the same time. Jessica shivered through three separate and very satisfying-looking orgasms before Richard groaned his own release. Lizzie assumed they were done.

But they weren't done.

Jessica slipped herself off the bed and did something Lizzie didn't expect -- not from her eighteen year-old friend. Jess stood, turned, and bent herself forward at the waist with her upper body on the bed. She swished her little cheerleadery bubble butt temptingly.

"C'mere Scooter, I've got this other hole you missed."

Out in the hallway, Lizzie's eyes slowly widened. Partly because Jessica had just used Lizzie's nickname for her brother. And partly because Jessica offered what she did - Lizzie had no idea her friend did... well... that.

Mostly though, Lizzie was astonished because her big brother, her sweet and gentle Scooter who used to read her bedtime stories when they were little, didn't hesitate. He simply stood and moved behind Jessica and then gave her just what she asked for, pressing himself into her ass with no more than a nod. Jessica whimpered at the invasion but didn't move away. Worst of all, the bastard was good at it, judging from the very happy groans Jessica made over the next ten minutes.

It was wrong and dirty and nasty and... hot.

Peering through the crack into her brother's bedroom at the gleeful sodomy scene, Lizzie's surprised face slowly spread into the same determined expression she wore at the last 100 yards of every race she'd ever run.

Lizzie would chase. And she'd win. She always did.

Bawoo.

She wandered back downstairs quietly for another beer.

*~*~* Part II -- One year later *~*~*

Twenty-years and two days old, Richard woke to the sounds of sea gulls crying and surf lapping at the beach. But it wasn't either of those things that drew him out of his sleep. It was a slender little finger that did it. That finger was tracing letters across his back. It wasn't all that odd, his kid sister Lizzie liked to wake him up this way - writing words on his skin.

They'd written messages like this for each other since they were children. It was their mother's idea. When they were young, their family went on long car rides to visit their grandparents. Little Richard and Elizabeth would get noisy in the back seat along the way -- two hours of nonstop tickling, poking, fighting, laughing and crying. Normal kid stuff, really. Unfortunately, their father was a bit high-strung and those long drives to see his in-laws only made him more tense.

Their mom did what good moms do. She buffered. She taught her children skinwriting to keep them occupied. "Give her your hand, Richie," his mother nodded at his sister from the front seat. "And close your eyes."

"Okay, now you think of a word, Liz. A small one. But don't say it out loud, honey. Ready? Now spell it on your brother's palm."

Liz nodded and traced each letter of her word with her tiny seven year-old finger. She had to write it twice before he could get it.

"Cat?" Richard finally guessed.

Liz giggled and their mother smiled. "Very good, you two. Lizzie, keep going until Richard guesses wrong. Let's see how many words you can get him to say."

Over the next two hours, their parents listened to the more peaceful sounds of elementary school vocabulary coming up from their backseat. "Dog." "House." "Truck." "Chicken, but you forgot the other 'c'."

Their mother's strange little improvised game was one of the many things that built a strong bond between Richard and Lizzie over the years. They had their tiffs and their struggles but they stuck by each other more than other siblings they knew. That bond grew even tighter when their family shrank a few years later. Their father died of a heart attack. No one was surprised -- he'd always been wound pretty tight. Their Mom missed him but she was leading an active, happy life again.

Richard focused on his sister's finger as it traced the three quick letters of her ritual puzzle before moving on to what she was going to make for breakfast.

The puzzle? He'd never solved it. Feeling what was for breakfast? That was easy.

"Pancakes," he muttered into the mattress.

"Good boy. And the other thing?" she scratched the thick brown hair at the back of his head.

"I still have no fucking idea what the hell 'imu' means."

"Ooh, poor little Scooter. Don't worry, you'll get it someday. You're the smartest dumb guy I know," she patted his back and left him alone to get dressed.

Stupid "imu" puzzle.

Eight years ago, he'd told her that she'd misspelled 'emu' and described the little ostrich-like bird. She'd laughed and shook her head, "Uh uh."

Seven years ago, he'd guessed that she'd cheated and skipped the apostrophe for "I'm U." Some sort of funny poetry thing. This of course made no sense. She'd laughed harder.

Lizzie's hardest laugh came three years ago when Richard, fresh from his first few weeks of high school physics had figured out that "I" was the letter for electrical current and the Greek letter "mu" was the symbol commonly used for a coefficient of friction. Thus, "I mu" meant "current friction" referring to how her finger was rubbing across his skin.

Lizzie had nearly wet herself laughing, "Dumbass, I wrote that for you when I was ten years-old. I barely understood what you just said now. How the hell could I have meant that then?"

She had a point.

Richard sighed into his pillow. He knew he was smarter than average and that he was pretty good at figuring things out. The fact that his little sister had stumped him for so long was a sore point.

Well, Lizzie was right about one thing -- pancakes sounded perfect for their first day at the beach.

By the time he splashed some water on his face and pulled on a bathing suit then made it to the kitchen, Lizzie had already finished cooking and was pouring coffee.

Amend that, pouring coffee in a bikini. Good god, his heart skipped several beats.

Lizzie's back was turned to him and the little black bikini's strings were knotted loosely at the middle of her back, her neck, and each hip.

Richard had long since made peace with the fact that his kid sister was far and away the prettiest girl he knew. Blonde with gigantic, soft, bambi-brown eyes, she was a gifted long distance runner and it showed. Basically, everyone agreed she looked like a gazelle. Her long, slender legs swept up into an equally sleek little ass. Her slim, tight upper body matched her lower half.

Lizzie Robbins was built for speed. And bikinis. She looked amazing in that suit.

He snapped out of his daze when she turned, golden ponytail swinging, and handed him a cup of coffee.

"How late did you get here last night?" she asked as she slid into her seat at the table. The motion made her round breasts sway slightly in her top and he only looked away with effort.

"Oh, a little after two. It took me that long to sober up from the birthday party they threw me at school. I'm going to need a lot of coffee today. Thanks." As proof, he took a long drag from his cup. His eyes flicked down her body again before he could stop them.

This time she caught him looking. "Like my new suit?" she needled him a bit, eyebrow cocked coyly.

"S'not bad," he shrugged. "It's just funny seeing you wearing it in the kitchen. My shy kid sister used to wear t-shirts over her suit right up until we got to the beach."

"That had more to do with Mom being around than being shy, dummy," she half-smiled, "No mom around to harass me now."

They ate breakfast and stepped out the back door and onto a patio overlooking a beach that they had all to themselves. Lizzie said her fiancée's parents rented the beach house for them for the last month of the summer, but he'd gotten dragged away to help with his Dad's company.

Lizzie... and her fiancée.

Wow, it even sounded weird. His little Lizzie, just one year into college, was getting married? And she'd never even brought the guy home to meet her family. She'd always been independent and headstrong but this was ridiculous. He only found out when she called him late one night from school with her engagement news that spring. He'd answered the phone and, before he'd even said hello, she just blurted it out.

"I'm getting married."

"Wah - huh?"

His sister giggled over the phone. "Married, Scooter. I'm getting married."

"Who? When? Why?" A bad answer to that last question popped into his head, "Oh god, you're pregnant aren't you?"

"Relax silly, I'm not preggo. His name is... okay, don't make fun... his name is Chip."

"Chip?!" he laughed, he couldn't help it. "This is some kind of sick joke..."

"You're really going to talk smack about names, Scooter? For real, his name is Chip. And he's a great guy. We're going to get married this summer. At the beach."

"Lizzie, I told you -- pot or tequila. Never both. You really can't mix them and keep a grip on reality."

"C'mon Scooter, I'm sober. Well, mostly sober. But more importantly, I am serious. I really am getting married. He just gave me a ring tonight and everything. Wait until you see it. It's fucking huge."

It finally sank in, she wasn't kidding. "Wow. Okay. So what did Mom say?"

"I haven't told her yet."

"You called me before Mom?"

"Of course silly, you're my brother. And brothers come first."

Brothers come first. That one tugged at his heartstrings because there was some history to it.

Richard had given little Lizzie her first kiss. It had been her idea and it was very innocent. She'd said she was worried about making a fool of herself with her first boyfriend.

"C'mon Scooter, please?" She'd pleaded with him. "I brushed my teeth and used some of Mom's mouthwash and everything. No cooties, I swear." But then she'd looked at him seriously and said something that had never even occurred to him back then, "Just don't do anything gross like put your tongue in my mouth, okay?"

He did like she asked, he kissed her. Their young lips merged hesitantly in a tender way for a long moment. Actually, it waskinda nice.

Lizzie had smiled hugely afterwards. "See, that wasn't so bad was it? Now you'll always be the first boy to kiss me. Cool huh?" She darted in and pecked his cheek in a more sisterly way. "Thanks, Scooter. You know, I think brothers should always come first."

But that would change soon. She'd be someone's wife. It was all happening too fast.

Richard pushed these thoughts away and focused on the now as he and his sister crossed the beach then swam out about forty yards into the surf where the waves just began to curl. They were both comfortable in the water and Lizzie was practically fearless when it came to picking her waves. The bigger the better.

They picked out their respective spots, alternatingly bobbing, waiting and surfing. Later, when Lizzie came back from her last wave, she swam over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Mind if I hang on you, bro? Can't touch bottom here like you," she pouted, "not tall enough. And I see you're catching the nicer rides from here." It was true. The largest waves were just beginning to curl where he could barely stand. Just a few yards further in, Lizzie had to duck under them because it was too late.

 

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Life is not an easy business...
There will be days... you will plan things...
There will go days... Not executing on those plans...
There will be days... you will replan things...
And circumstances won't suite...
There will be days... You will choose to do something different and spend unplanned...
There will be days you will find something thing crazy about yourself...
There will be days your health might not support...
There will be days... you will restart with full gear...
But people around won't support...
There will be days... you will fall in love with yourself... because you tried your best... and you know that... irrespective of what the world sees and says...
And you won't give up there...
You will start it all over again... with chanting that Goddess name, with a whole heart, noble heart, with a fine tuned mind, demolishing all your wills... letting that Unknown force work through you... All you need to be done...
And this time you will win...
All those problems will try repeating them to stop you moving forward again...
But this time you won't stop...
You won't wait for anything, anyone...
You will do it... Because you know this is what you need to do... to be YOU.😊

Life is not an easy business...
There will be days... you will plan things...
There will go days... Not executing on those plans...
There will be days... you will replan things...
And circumstances won't suite...
There will be days... You will choose to do something different and spend unplanned...
There will be days you will find something thing crazy about yourself...
There will be days your health might not support...
There will be days... you will restart with full gear...
But people around won't support...
There will be days... you will fall in love with yourself... because you tried your best... and you know that... irrespective of what the world sees and says...
And you won't give up there...
You will start it all over again... with chanting that Goddess name, with a whole heart, noble heart, with a fine tuned mind, demolishing all your wills... letting that Unknown force work through you... All you need to be done...
And this time you will win...
All those problems will try repeating them to stop you moving forward again...
But this time you won't stop...
You won't wait for anything, anyone...
You will do it... Because you know this is what you need to do... to be YOU.
#Annie

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What are crazy things people still believe in all over the earth?

Cannibalistic gum chewing in Turkey



In some parts of Turkey you may want to think twice before whipping out a piece of chewing gum. There is a belief that if you are chewing gum at night it’s bad luck. This is because at night instead of chewing gum, you’d actually be chewing rotting dead flesh (Eew).

Groaning cheese for a newborn



You’ve probably heard of Swiss cheese, cheddar cheese, or pepper jack cheese but have you heard of Groaning Cheese? In Medieval England, expectant mothers made what they called a ‘Groaning Cheese’ which was a large wheel of cheese that matured for nine months as the unborn baby grew. When the ‘groaning time’ or time of birth came, the whole family would celebrate by eating this cheese until nothing but the outer rind was left. The newborn would then be passed through the rind on Christening day to be blessed with a long and prosperous life. What a cheesy superstition!

Good luck horseshoe



Some people believe hanging a horseshoe in the bedroom or on a door knob with its ends pointing upwards will bring good luck and keep nightmares away. This belief comes from the fact that a horse shoe has seven holes, which is considered to be a lucky number. Also the fact that is made of iron can supposedly ward off evil spirits that may haunt you in your dreams.

Friday the 13th



Friday the 13th has been a source of superstition ever since the 19th century. Though it’s origin is shrouded in speculations and theories, it’s impact is quite evident. Many people will purposely avoid doing anything significant (like business meetings, socials, banquets, etc) due to the belief that the day is cursed and its a source of ill fortune.

Curse of the Opal stone



If your favorite stone is the Opal, you’re out of luck…literally since this stone is said to bring bad luck to whoever wears it. This superstition comes from the 1829 best selling novel ‘Anne of Geierstein’ by Sir Walter Scott. In the novel, Lady Hermione was falsely accused of being a demon due to her sudden death after a drop of holy water accidentally falls on her opal jewelry and changes its color. This book had such an effect on the image of the Opal that shortly after its publication, the Opal market crashed and Opal prices dropped by 50%.

Ringing of the Bells

Have you ever wondered why bells are always associated with weddings and special occasions? As it turns out, the association stems from the widely held belief that bells frighten evil spirits away. This belief originated during Queen Elizabeth’s reign for two reasons; to ask for prayers for the departed soul and to drive away the evil spirits who stood at the foot of the bed.

Bird poop equals riches



Don’t worry, you read the title right. In Russia, there is a belief that if a bird defecates on you, your car, or your property it’s a sign of good luck and may bring you riches. The more birds involved, the richer you’ll be! So next time a bird poops on you, count it all joy.

Old, new, borrowed, blue



This popular wedding tradition is said to have originated during the Victorian era and involves giving the bride various gifts. One of the gifts is something old and represents continuity; another is new and represents hope and the future; the third is borrowed and symbolizes borrowed happiness while the last is blue and is supposed to bring purity, love, and fidelity.

Black cats, bad luck



Most people have heard the saying that if a black cat crosses your path its bad luck (if you haven’t well now you have). This interesting superstition finds it’s origin in the middles ages. Single women (usually elderly) who associated themselves with many cats where believed to be witches who could become cats themselves. Thus a black cat crossing your path could actually be a witch.

Unlucky smoking triad



From the Crimean War through World War I, it was considered bad luck among soldiers to light three cigarettes with one match. It was theorized that by the time the third cigarette was lit, a sniper would have had the time to have the soldier in his sight, ready to make the kill. However, some believe that the superstition may have been invented by match tycoon Ivar Krueger to drum up more business.


Counting crows



No, im not referring to the 90′s band. It’s believed that the amount of crows in a murder has the ability to predict your fortune as exemplified by the popular phrase: “One’s bad / Two’s luck / Three’s health / Four’s wealth / Five’s sickness / Six is death.” More than six however seems to be up to the person whose counting.

Jinxed birds



The Wryneck or Jinxtorquilla are a breed of birds that can twist their heads very liberally. A superstitious belief among the locals is that if this bird twists its head towards you, death is on the horizon.

Soul capturing mirrors



Most people use mirrors daily which means, according to this superstition, most people are soulless. There is a superstition that states that looking into a mirror steals your soul. This helps explain why the evil queen uses a mirror to harm Snow White, why Narcissus was ensnared by his own reflection, and why soulless vampires have no reflection. Think twice before you look into the bathroom mirror…you have been warned.

Fingers crossed for good luck



To cross one’s fingers is a hand gesture commonly used for good luck. Which makes sense since it was used during ancient Christian persecution by believers to identify other believers as a sign of peace. Today however, this has evolved to excuse the telling of white lies which may have its roots in the belief that the power of the Christian cross may save a person from being sent to hell for telling a lie.

Photographic soul cage



When photography was first invented in the early 19th century, people all over the world held the unfounded belief that taking someone’s picture was akin to taking his/her soul. Thus if an enemy was able to obtain a photograph of you, he/she not only held your soul but also held a spiritual power over you. Thank goodness this is just a superstition, I can only imagine how many people would have power over me…(Facebook).

No 13



Not to be confused with Friday the 13th (which is a superstition of the actual day) but similar in nature, this superstition simply states that the number 13 is associated with bad luck. That’s why many architects refused (some still do) to design stairs that ended with 13 steps or buildings that ended with a 13th floor. The fear of the number 13 is so real to many people, that an actual phobia has been created to describe it; its called Triskaidekaphobia. (try to say that 13 times fast).

When you wish upon a star



The superstition involving wishing on the first star you see in the evening is somewhat uncertain. Some Europeans believed that the gods would occasionally peer down, and when they moved the sky, a star would escape and fall down. The Greeks also believed that the stars where falling human souls, and it was lucky to make a wish on them.

Opening an umbrella indoors



According to superstition, if you open an umbrella indoors you are literally asking for bad luck to “rain on you”. One explanation comes from the days when umbrellas were used as protection from the sun; opening one inside was an insult to the sun god who would then curse you with bad luck. Another theory states that an umbrella protects you against the storms of life, so opening one inside your house insults the guardian spirits of your home (whom also protects you from the storms of life), causing them to leave you unprotected.

New broom, new house, bad luck



There are many superstitions associated with brooms (heck, that could be a list all in itself) but there is one very curious and particular superstition that we want to caution you on. As the lore goes, you cannot sweep dirt out of a new house (or apartment) with a new broom unless you sweep something in first. If you don’t sweep something in first, then you will be sweeping out your good luck. Do not sweep out your good luck!

Lucky rabbit’s foot



To have this token is an unfortunate thing for the rabbit but a magnet of fortune for the wearer. According to superstition (which can be traced as far back as the seventh century BC) the rabbit’s supernatural luck could be exploited by taking the left hind foot of a rabbit that was shot (or captured) in a creepy cemetery on a full moon.(I still fail to see how this is lucky for the rabbit).

Knock on wood



The superstition of Knocking on wood, or simply saying “knock on wood” after making a hopeful statement, is a consequence of the idea that you’re tempting fate by acknowledging your good fortune. It’s possible that the expression comes from an ancient belief that good spirits lived in trees, so by knocking on something wooden, a person was calling on the spirits for protection. Another reason why we should all be tree huggers.

Breaking a mirror



We’ve already mentioned how mirrors are believed to be soul sucking mystical items (which is bad enough) but what happens when you break these devices? Why, seven years of bad luck of course! Some superstitious sources state that the trapped souls adversely influences your luck. And here you thought you were doing them a favor! Nope. Make sure those suckers stay inside that mirror!

“God bless you”



For many; saying “God Bless You” after someone sneezes is a gesture of politeness. However, the origin of this interesting superstition is somewhat two fold. On the one hand, it’s believed that the phrase originated with Pope Gregory the Great. He would say “God Bless You” to people who sneezed during the bubonic plague in hopes that the prayer would keep them safe. However another possible origin comes from the ancient belief that the soul escapes the body during a sneeze unless God prevented this by blessing them.

Four-leaf clover



Though the origin of wishing over a four-leaf clover is lost to antiquity it has long been a symbol of good luck and fortune. It has also been used in some traditions for finding a husband or a wife. The way this works (for you single people) is by first finding a four leaf clover (good luck with that one), if you happen to find one, you must then eat it (or put it inside your shoe…but eating it is more fun). After this, the luck powers activate and the first person you come in contact after the activation will be your future mate…(Word of warning, stay clear of anyone you don’t want as a future mate).

Itchy palms



There seems to be a lot of variations on this superstition, but the idea of having an itchy palm generally refers to someone who is greedy or has an insatiable desire for money. Some people believe that if the right palm itches, you will lose money, while an itchy left palm means that money is coming your way. If both palm itches…you may want to go to a doctor for that.

Beginner's luck

Usually grumbled by an expert who just lost a game to a novice, "beginner's luck" is the idea that newbies are unusually likely to win when they try out a sport, game or activity for the first time.

Beginners might come out ahead in some cases because the novice is less stressed out about winning. Too much anxiety, after all, can hamper performance. Or it could just be a statistical fluke, especially in chance-based gambling games.

Or, like many superstitions, a belief in beginner's luck might arise because of confirmation bias. Confirmation bias is a psychological phenomenon in which people are more likely to remember events that fit their worldview. If you believe you're going to win because you're a beginner, you're more likely to remember all the times you were right — and forget the times you ended up in last place.

Find a penny, pick it up,,,

And all day long, you'll have good luck. This little ditty may arise because finding money is lucky in and of itself. But it might also be a spin-off of another old rhyme, "See a pin, pick it up/ and all day long you'll have good luck/ See a pin, let it lay/ and your luck will pass away."

Don't walk under that ladder!

Frankly, this superstition is pretty practical. Who wants to be responsible for stumbling and knocking a carpenter off his perch? But one theory holds that this superstition arises from a Christian belief in the Holy Trinity: Since a ladder leaning against a wall forms a triangle, "breaking" that triangle was blasphemous.

Then again, another popular theory is that a fear of walking under a ladder has to do with its resemblance to a medieval gallows. We're sticking with the safety-first explanation for this one.

Bad luck comes in threes

Remember confirmation bias? The belief that bad luck comes in threes is a classic example. A couple of things go wrong, and believers may start to look for the next bit of bad luck. A lost shoe might be forgotten one day, but seen as the third in a series of bad breaks the next.

666

Three sixes in a row give some people the chills. It's a superstition that harks back to the Bible. In the Book of Revelation, 666 is given as the number of the "beast," and is often interpreted as the mark of Satan and a sign of the end times.

According to State University of New York at Buffalo anthropologist Philips Stevens, the writer of Revelation was writing to persecuted Christians in code, so the numbers and names in the book are contemporary references. Three sixes in a row is probably the numeric equivalent of the Hebrew letters for the first-century Roman Emperor Nero. [End of the World? Top Doomsday Fears]

Make a wish on a wishbone

The tradition of turkey bone tug-of-war goes back a long way. Legend has it that first-century Romans used to fight over dried wishbones — which they believed were good luck — and would accidentally break them, ushering in the idea that whoever has the largest bit of bone gets their wish. Bird bones have also been used in divination throughout history, with a supposed soothsayer throwing the bones and reading their patterns to predict the future.

Most common one



1. A bird in the house is a sign of a death

2. A loaf of bread should never be turned upside down after a slice has been cut from it.

3. Never take a broom along when you move. Throw it out and buy a new one.

4. If the first butterfly you see in the year is white, you will have good luck all year.

5. If a black cat walks towards you, it brings good fortune, but if it walks away, it takes the good luck with it.

6. An acorn at the window will keep lightning out

7. A dog howling at night when someone in the house is sick is a bad omen.

8. It’s bad luck to leave a house through a different door than the one used to come into it.

9. A horseshoe hung in the bedroom will keep nightmares away.

10. If you catch a falling leaf on the first day of autumn you will not catch a cold all winter.

11. If a mirror in the house falls and breaks by itself, someone in the house will die soon.

12. Dropping an umbrella on the floor means that there will be a murder in the house.

13. All windows should be opened at the moment of death so that the soul can leave.

14. If the groom drops the wedding band during the ceremony, the marriage is doomed.

15. To dream of a lizard is a sign that you have a secret enemy.

16. If a friend gives you a knife, you should give him a coin, or your friendship will soon be broken.

17. You should never start a trip on Friday or you will meet misfortune.

18. Dream of running: a sign of a big change in your life.

19. If a clock which has not been working suddenly chimes, there will be a death in the family.

20. It is bad luck to light three cigarettes with the same match  

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