The stigma of self-inflicted death is for some people a hateful blot that demands erasure at all costs.
"Please forgive me," Pleasant said, then aimed the gun at the girl and pulled the trigger.
Suddenly Saracen Rue looked old and tired, and Skulduggery Pleasant came into focus as what he really was – a genius, a killer, a tortured soul, and the only true dead man among them.
She turned to Skulduggery and held out her arms. “Come here, you. ” He tilted his head. “My hugs are for special occasions only. ” “Hug me. ” “I prefer the old tradition. ” “Hug. ” “Would a handshake do?” “Hug. ” “A pat on the back?” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him. “Hug,” she said. He sighed, and his hands settled on her shoulders. The others were warm and their embraces strong – with Skulduggery the hug was cold, and there were areas on his jacket that gave way beneath her fingers, and she could feel the emptiness within. She didn’t mind.
There's a clock on the wall. Press your hand against the face and turn it very slightly to the. Left. There'll be a click to tell you it's done. " "Sounds easy enough. " "Yes it does," said Sanguine. "Kiss for good luck?" "Maybe later," said Gracious. "How about a handshake?" Asked Donegan.
China is the same age as I am, and even I have to admit that she wears it better!" He laughed, then stopped and peered at her. "Because I'm a skeleton" he explained.
A living skeleton isn't enough for you, is it? What does it take to impress young people these days?
If the Almighty himself played the violin, the credits would still read 'Rubinstein, God, and Piatigorsky', in that order.
The grandeur and strength or our people and democracy are as big as a forest.
Lysley Tenorio is a writer of sly wit and lively invention—these are stories bursting with wonders (from monster movies and leper colonies, to faith-healers and superheroes)—but most wondrous of all is his intimate sense of character. Each story is a confession of love betrayed, told with a mournful, austere tenderness as heartbreaking as it is breathtaking.
It is not reasonable that art should win the place of honor over our great and powerful mother Nature. We have so overloaded the beauty and richness of her works by our inventions that we have quite smothered her.