Just stories written while im on the toilet or in the restroom in general

I closed the door to my room and faced the double-faced Kross. I said:
"Who the fuck is she?"
"Chill it, Oscar. She is who she says she is. A surgeon working here under a contract with the UN. Officially."
"And unofficially?"
"She might be doing a little work for SDECE - for the French intelligence service."
"She's a fucking spy!"
"She's not a fucking spy, and you're fucking stupid. She might be a source for the French, but chances are she isn't even aware of it."
"What!?" He shook his head and gave me a reproachful look. Then he said:
"It usually goes like this: you have a friend. You have a beer with your friend and talk about what you've been up to, oh I drove down to Abidjan to get some shopping done and I ran into those two guys. Then the friend goes and writes a report. Got it? What did you think, that spies have I AM A SPY printed on their foreheads?"
"If she isn't aware she's being used, what was that crack about cars equipped with machine guns?"
He smiled thinly and said:
"I told you I drove armored cars for a living at one point. And like most sensible people, she doesn't like guns."
"You  like guns."
"I belong to the sensible minority that does," he said.
"Don't bullshit me," I said. "She sounded too suspicious. She didn't meet you while you were driving an armored car, did she? She knew."

He let out an irritated snort and shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said:
"Yes, that's exactly how we met, while I was driving around in a fucking armored car. Look, we can go over everything later. We can spend all afternoon and evening tomorrow, if you like. But right now I've got her waiting for me."

This I knew to be true; as we parted company with Mireille, Kross offered assistance in getting her shopping to her car. She wasn't staying at the megahotel; she was just shopping there. Apparently, that was what a lot of whites did, belonging as they did to the local consumer aristocracy. That's the aristocracy of our modern, democratic times: he who pays most is the most noble.

I stared at Kross for a while. Then I said:
"Okay. There are still a couple of questions I need answered tonight. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow I have the whole day to relax, right? Tonight."
"That's my boy," he said. He actually reached out and patted me on my arm. "I'll see you later." And he fucked off, leaving me alone in my room.

It wasn't a bad room to be left alone in; it definitely ranked among the top ten hotel rooms in my life. Like the other nine, it was built to international jetsetter standard, and could have equally well belonged in a hotel located in Paris or New York: true home away from home. The big bed's carved headboard and a couple of pictures (antelopes loping through long yellow savannah grass, a very happy, young, very pretty African female with a bunch of green bananas) indicated the room, and its accompanying bathroom, were in fact located in Africa.

However, the bathroom - and particularly the space-age toilet - were extremely unAfrican. Made of stainless steel, the toilet was a beautifully designed piece. It was the ultimate receptacle for jetsetter waste, and its oval promise was echoed in the stainless steel bidet under the opposing wall. Hygiene-minded jetsetters could hold mini-conferences in this bathroom, the bidet-sitter releasing a warm, comforting spray on the gonads as needed. It would be nice to immobilize Kross there, legs splayed right over the spray nozzle, then switch the water to boiling hot prior to asking a few questions. Question number one would ask Kross to explain what Mireille meant by mischief, no offhand remarks about driving armored cars accepted. Question number two would be whether we really were going to visit her.

I  wanted to see her. I had lots of questions for her, too. Once she'd revealed herself as a surgeon, Mireille changed. It was as if bringing it up had reminded her of the right code of conduct for a professional woman. She became politely friendly with Kross, and friendly polite with me (I didn't mind; I'd just noticed she didn't wear a wedding band).

There were no further remarks about guns or mischief, and she didn't retract or water down her invitation. When we were saying goodbye, she actually said 'see you' to me. What was best, she hadn't cracked a single joke about my name, looks, and the Academy Awards. I hadn't been so smitten by a woman in a long, long time.

I groaned and sat down on the bed. This reminded me of the many useless hours spent in the room next to the toilet, so I moved into the armchair that had been thoughtfully positioned by the window. I couldn't see the lagoon or the office towers. All I could see was night, with a scattering of lights both above and below. Even the moon had fucked off somewhere else; it had better things to do than to be watched by Oscar Hansen. I cast a couple of longing glances at the mini bar, giving my willpower a good workout. I got up and walked around the room once again, stopping to prod a button on the big hotel TV - much bigger than the one I'd had back in my world class home. It burst into life with a spastic crackle, eventually rewarding me with a closeup of an unshaven man mouthing a big breast that had a nipple the size of the business end of the average liquor bottle. There were two fairly long black hairs growing next to the nipple: very unprofessional.

I switched the TV off, feinted towards the mini bar and ended up sitting in the armchair yet again. I sat there, drinkless, and looked at the night. It held no answer; night never does. Neither does the day, but it looks better. It looks as if there was an answer or two - somewhere.

I had a long wait. Kross returned late: my adjusted, re-synchronized watch told me it was nearly eleven local time. By then, I had added several questions to the original Kross list, the most pressing of which was, of course, the most common question asked by fellow travelers, or where the fuck have you been. But it became apparent that all questions will have to wait when he entered.

He brought two women with him, two good-looking hotel whores. They were both mulattas with long, snakelike braided hair: twenty-year-old modern Medusas wearing skimpy vinyl. One had white vinyl hot pants and a black vinyl vest. The other had a black vinyl miniskirt and a white vinyl bolero. It was impossible not to imagine them going down on each other. I said:

"Kross. What the fuck is this?"
"This," he said, "Is Angelique. And this is Monique. They both speak English. They've been around."

He put his arms around them as he spoke, and they giggled appreciatively. The three of them had been drinking or doing drugs or both. They were high, but they were in control. They were true professionals.

"Hello," the white hot pants said to me. She was the slightly uglier one, but still very good-looking. They both had a shining if slightly creaky future in their chosen business. I said:
"I repeat. What the fuck is this?"
"I saw the way you looked at Mireille, and thought it was time for a little rest and recreation," Kross said. "We've worked so hard to get here. It's all part of getting acclimatized."
If he had noticed, then so had Mireille. I swallowed and said:
"I thought you had a full day tomorrow."
"Don't worry about me. I just have to make a couple of calls, and pay someone a visit. I'll be done by the afternoon. Which one do you like better? I like Angelique."

He squeezed the hip of the black miniskirt and she let out a delighted yelp and bit him on the ear. He liked it. He said something French to the hotpants, and opened the door.

"Kross," I said, "Wait. For fuck's sake. We were supposed to talk."
"We'll talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow when?"
"First thing. Crack of dawn - say, around eleven. I'll give you a shout." He allowed the giggling Angelique to pull him out into the corridor.

The door slammed shut. I looked at Monique. She looked back at me. I asked:
"Would you like a drink?"

She shook her head, grinning, and walked up to me. She got uncomfortably close and I moved a step back.
"My name is Monique," she said.
"I know. My name is Oscar."
"I know," she said, and stepped forward again. I stepped back. I said:
"Look, I don't know if I'm up to this."

Her grin didn't waver. She put a hand on her crotch and gave it a squeaky squeeze. She said:
"Then you can watch."

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What do you do when you've just lost your job, your wife, your home?
The answer is simple: you go looking for treasure in Africa.
NOTE: This is a completed novel I wrote a long time ago.

I N D I G O

I woke up to the alarm blaring in my ears making me wince as I sit up to turn it off. What is the point of me even going to school? I was rather intelligent without it. It doesn't matter though. My father prefers me to be gone and out of his hair while he does who knows what throughout the day. I groggily made my way to the bathroom feeling a desperate need to shower since I didn't get the chance to yesterday after unpacking. According to Jim, we needed a "change of scenery" so we moved from Denver to Los Angeles last week. If you're wondering why I call him by his first name, you will soon realize that we do not have your typical father-daughter relationship.

It's different here; palm trees replaced the familiar pine coned ones, an ocean instead of snow covered hills, sunshine when it should be gray. It's a lot to take in. My thoughts were interrupted by the pounding on my bathroom door. "Don't use up all the fucking water, you ungrateful shit!," Jim yelled through the thin walls. I rolled my eyes, knowing I was safely out of sight behind the shower curtains. I generally keep my mouth shut when dealing with him. I am well aware that he gives zero fucks about my existence; I'm strictly here to clean and cook.

"Yes sir," I grumbled in response. Jim happens to be the spawn of Satan; lucky me. I have learned within the past seventeen years not to talk back to him, to make eye contact, or to even breathe in the same oxygen... I rushed out of the bathroom in my towel, frantically searching for something to wear. I glance at the clock on my night stand only to see that I am behind schedule and today is my first day at a public school. 

I let my long and thick chocolate colored locks flow to the small of my back, not feeling the urgency to search for my hair tie this morning. I caught myself staring at my reflection, taking in the girl on the other side. She had dark bags under her dull and lifeless pigment green eyes complimented with a grotesque bruise lining her jaw that required some concealer. Quickly, I patted the concealer on and added some mascara. After throwing on my ripped black skinny jeans and loose beige sweater, I made my way downstairs.

Jim scowled at me as I walked into the kitchen. "C-Can I have a banana o-or granola bar?," I asked nervously. I was hoping he had already left for work so I could eat... "Absolutely not. You didn't clean the dishes last night," he replied with a devilish smirk. I refrained from letting my jaw hit the floor. This man is unbelievable.

L A S T • N I G H T

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?!," Jim snapped at me.

"You had finished your plate. I thought I could have what was left," I replied.

A sharp stinging sensation erupted on the left side of my face, as he back handed me; my body flinging to the ground like a rag doll. I could hear him laughing maniacally as the hot tears began to pour down my face. 

"I haven't eaten in four days, please?!," I begged. 

This only infuriated him more.

He stalked over to me, his face as red as fire. I felt the steel toe of his boot come intact with my rib cage making me double over, screaming in agony. A jolt of pain came from my scalp as he lifted me off the ground by my hair throwing my whole body into the wall. I felt my head hit the vinyl wood; black spots appearing in my vision. I wanted to beg him to leave me be, or to just kill me already. However, I must have blacked out because the next thing I knew, I woke up on the floor and it was clearly passed midnight so I went upstairs to get some rest.

B A C K • T O • P R E S E N T

I bit my tongue, tasting the copper immediately. He always knew how to make my blood boil. "Yes sir," I replied through gritted teeth while making my way to the front door. I slipped on my 'once were white but are now gray' vans, grabbed my deck and skated the way to school. It was about ten minutes before Willow High came into view. I felt my palms begin to sweat as I rolled through the parking lot. My social anxiety was at an all time high as I saw people turning around to stare at me, making my legs begin to shake. I swiftly got off my board and held it to my side protectively, scurrying my way into the school towards the office.

"Why hello?! You must be Indigo!," a cheerful woman sang. I gave her a soft smile and nodded. She handed me my schedule and pointed me in the right direction towards my locker. I shoved my board and a few of the text books in just before hearing the first bell ring loudly above my head indicating that I was now late. Wonderful. Because being the new kid wasn't already gaining its own attention as is; note the sarcasm. I shuffled through the hallway looking for the right room when I ran into a wall-- nope, my mistake. It's a human.

"Watch where the hell you're going, jack ass," he spat.

The pain from my ribs erupted through my whole body, making me want to crawl into the nearest hole and die. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry! I thought you were some random kid..." he said nervously. An apology? Hm, seems foreign. I wanted to say that it was okay and that I was fine but the words wouldn't form and my voice wouldn't work. He looked at me quizzically.

"Are you okay? I didn't think you fell that hard," I could see the guilt clear on his face. Poor thing. I took his hand that he had reached out to me and let him pull me up off the ground. "Thank you. I'm fine," I whispered while looking down at my shoes, averting his gaze. 

No eye contact, Indie. You know better.

"Name's Tanner."

For some reason, I felt the need to look at him. I mean, he wouldn't introduce himself if he didn't want me to know who he was... right? I looked up through my lashes and saw a rather handsome young man. He had tousled, short, butterscotch colored hair in an ivy league fashion with doe brown eyes, a few freckles sprinkled across his nose. He was definitely a good foot taller than my petite 5'1". As a short person, that whole extra inch is sacred.

"Uh-- Indigo," I babbled out. Not like you would remember it, anyway.

I looked up again to see his smile fade into a frown. 

Shit, did I say that out loud?

"Indigo is actually my sisters favorite color, so I can remember that," He shot me a quick smile. I felt my cheeks heat up. Okay, so I did say that out loud. Metaphorical face palm, in session.

Tanner was actually surprisingly easy to talk to. We had first period, Psych AP, together and were even paired for a project. I went through a few more classes before it hit lunch. I'm not one for cafeteria's-- you know, with the social anxiety and what not. So, I stopped at my locker to grab my deck and made my way to the parking lot. I put my head phones in and let myself escape for a while. I noticed some of the different cliches outside; the jocks, the cheerleaders, the band geeks, the nerds, the goths, and at the far end of the school were the bad boys.

Four guys stood in the corner, one of them being Tanner. All of the boys seemed to be just around the same height. The guy next to him though... that was who I couldn't stop staring at. He had jet black hair with a comb over fade, tattooed from the neck down. He was wearing a white v-neck that hugged his chest and denim jeans that fit him perfectly. I quickly shook my head of the thoughts, hoping I hadn't drooled. 

I continued to skate around the school, feeling the anxiety desiccate; at least until I heard my name being shouted across the lot. I whipped my head around to see Tanner smirking at me, motioning for me to join him. I hesitantly rolled to where they stood, feeling the lump in my throat begin to form as they all looked me up and down; probably trying to figure out what a piece of shit like me is doing here. 

"Indigo, meet the gang," Tanner cooed.


P L E A S E • V O T E

Embark on this journey with Indigo Carter, a damaged girl who finds love while battling an oppressive past that comes with a lot of self-hate. Will she learn to accept herself and allow others in? Or will she welcome what she believes to be her fate and let the darkness consume her?



⚠ W A R N I N G ⚠
This book contains graphic violence, bad language, sexual and physical abuse.

Chapter 3: Decisions

Sirena

              I'm sitting in Mr. Martin's office right now. Mr. Martin is the main liaison for the agency. Every time I walk into his office, I find myself intrigued by his choice of décor. His office is decorated in various shades of white with stark white walls, creamy white furniture, and a glass desk. Even the paintings are white. "Ms. Escada, thank you for coming. Please have a seat." I pull out a white vinyl contemporary chair and take a seat, crossing my legs. "Is there a problem, Mr. Martin?" Mr. Martin smiles, shaking his head. "No, Ms. Escada, nothing like that." I frown in consternation. "Please, call me Sirena."

His smile widens as he folds his hands over his desk. "Let me get to the point here…Sirena. I have a client who requires special services. Unfortunately, he's not the type that wants a long term contract. Most of the girls are contracted long term. The ones that are not have already been contracted by our clients." He pushes back in his rolling chair, wiping his hand over his bald head. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you. Some of the girls have no interest in this client due to his…needs. You, however, have shown compassion that is not present in some of the women."

 I raise my eyebrows. "What do you mean, special services?" Mr. Martin takes a deep breath, lean his hands down on the table, and stands there for a few moments looking thoughtful. After a moment, he nods his head with a resolute expression and glances back at me. "The clients are brothers. One of the brothers is said to be deformed. Some of the girls have declined because he covers his face with a mask and hood. He does not actually have sex with them, the brother does. The women say he's very attractive and that the sex is incredible. The only issue they have is that the brother cuts himself while he watches the couple's interaction."

He moves back with a reassuring smile. "I promise. He doesn't touch the girls or cut them. They've been clients of ours for many years. I can definitely guarantee you that there is no danger. Unfortunately, the other girls are not comfortable with his... kinks." Feeling confused, I shift in my chair. "But… I don't…I signed up to be a sugar baby." He releases a deep breath in understanding. "I know this is asking a lot. To be honest, you don't necessarily meet the profile of who they require. But there's no one else. As I said. You seem to show a level of compassion that others lack. Mr. Wells has gone through a large variety of our girls for the past few years. However, for the past few months, he has been content with you. Mr. Elliot seems less sad. He told us many times about your patience. The agency is more than happy to pay triple your fee. Please consider. It's only one night." I lick my lips thinking things through. "I'll…I'll think about it."

Mr. Martin hands me a folder then sits back down. "That's the non-disclosure contract. There is also a list of requirements and an invoice with the amount of money you will be paid if you agree. I hate to rush you, but we need an answer by tomorrow." I take the folder putting it in my bag. "I'll look through it and get back to you as soon as I have an answer." Mr. Martin walks towards the door, ushering me out. "Thank you, Sirena. I hope you'll say yes."

Nika is sitting on her bed, typing away on her laptop when I get to our room. She stops typing and sits up. "What's up? Why did the agency want to see you?" I toss my bag on the bed and throw myself next to it. Our room is very small. It has two small twin beds, and a small window overlooking a lovely brick wall from the building next to us. We have two small dressers, a closet, and a small bathroom with a shower. We have several band posters and Knick knacks decorating several parts of the room. Our television is a nineteen-inch flat screen hanging on the wall opposite our beds. I slip off my flip flops and exhale deeply as I consider Mr. Martin's request. Nika raises her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

I tilt my head back and look up at the ceiling. "They asked me to take a contract for a special client." I lift my bag to my chest and remove the folder. Nika gets up and sits across from me with an expectant look. "And?" She says, twirling her hand impatiently. I run my hands up and down the file. "And they'll pay me triple to do it." She shrugs her shoulders, lifting her hands up in question. "Okay. So what's the problem?"

I open the file looking over the non-disclosure for a moment. Then sit up from the headboard, and hand her the file. "According to Mr. Martin, the clients require me to have sex with one brother while the other one watches. But that's not the weird part. His brother will be covered in a mask and hood while he cuts himself and watches." Nika's mouth gapes open in shock. "What the fuck!" I nod my head. "Yeah…I mean, Mr. Martin said that the brother would not touch me at all or do anything to hurt me. I just need to let him watch while I fuck his brother."

Nika shakes her head in wonder. "Holy shit! Are you going to do it?" I run my hands through my hair and look down at the invoice. The amount is pretty impressive. "I don't know, Nika. I mean, I know that the job requires sex sometimes, but I don't know if I can just walk in and screw a stranger. To top it off, he'll be screwing me in front of his deformed brother." Nika looks thoughtful for a moment. "It's only once, right? And you don't have to have sex with the weird brother." I give a grim look. "Didn't you hear me when I said that I don't know if I can have sex with a stranger?"

She gives me a nonchalant shrug. "Who cares? It's only once. I've had sex with a few strangers. It's not like you're a virgin. I mean, you had sex with Mr. Elliot, and Mr. Martin said the guy you'd be having sex with is hot." I grimace at her words. "Yeah, I guess." She smacks my knee and gets up cheerfully. "Besides, it's not like the other dude is going to touch you. I think that kind of kink would be hot."

I roll my eyes, throwing my pillow at her. "You're a sick girl, you know that?" She laughs, wagging her eyebrows. "Oh yeah. Momma likey some nasty play." She throws my pillow back to me, laughing naughtily. "Besides, we're only twenty years old. This is our time to experiment." I look down at the contract again then take the phone out of my purse.

As a child, Torin fought to defend his younger brother Zane from a brutal violation. Unfortunately, Torin was not left unscathed by the experience. Scarred and beaten, Torin retreated into the anonymity of a mask. Feeling disheartened by his brother’s retreat into obscurity, Zane takes the advice of an old lover. He decides to hire courtesans to help his brother find sexual release without the burden of rejection. But what happens when the agency sends a girl who doesn't fit the mold? Will Sirena Escada be the thing to lead Torin into the light?
Sirena’s a college girl with very little money. When the bills stack up, and her family loses their only source of income, Sirena will find herself with no other choice but to become a courtesan. One day Sirena is called by the agency to accept an unusual assignment. She is asked to contract with two brothers for one night; one who looks like a fallen angel, and the other who hides behind a painful secret.
What will happen when Sirena falls for the damaged brother? Can Sirena's love save Torin from his darkness?
Torin does not want to love this beautiful girl who lives in the light. But when the times comes for him to choose between his darkness and the woman who has awoken his heart, will Torin rise from his obscurity to win the woman he loves? Or will he fall into the darkness of his damaged past?

Lucas went out, with a bag full of necessities.

Auditions are literally a 3 part journey.
1. Dance
2. Sing
3. Talk and tell why you need to be chosen, your talents. In other words, your eloquence. 

Literally dancing and singing is essential, so there is no confusion.

But confidence factor comes from talking, so it's very important.

Lucas is not the typical "I can talk only less, stop bothering my private-space" guy but "I talk in the right moment, but normally I hate talking" guy.

Lucas is a bit of a loner, but ironically he wants to be seen in the big screen.

Originally, he really liked to dance and sing.

It could have been just a hobby, but when did it develop so much...?

Is it during that time? His thoughts were jumbled. 
It was... his uncle. 

He smiled slightly, thinking of the fond memory. It was simple, but that single day with his uncle seemed to change his future.

I'm determined. I can do this. 
I dreamed of this!
After his confidence reaching the threshold, he sprinted excitedly towards the studio.

This was the common venue for several talent competitions. Lucas had come here for several school-based dance competitions.

Today, it was unexpectedly crowded. The open area of the studio was completely occupied.

But Lucas had pre-booked a room here, so he was immediately granted a room.

It was wide, probably enough to fit 10 people dancing freely. The white vinyl flooring shined brightly, reflecting the spotlights. The white walls were spotless, but there were mirrors accompanying them.  Hung on the side, were pure black speakers - which was a huge contrast to the white walls.

On the side, there was a small screen which said "Reserved for 2 hours" along with a small countdown ticking down. 
A sound system was located in the corner of the room, placed in such a way that it would not hinder the practice.

Lucas licked his lips and gulped. 
Okay!

Please read the new series here --->

https://www.webnovel.com/book/10652332406088605/Over-the-Top-%3A-The-Track-to-Fame

The entertainment world is a hard place to survive. Vying at its peak, people are retiring, backing off due to fear of failure. In an unseemingly new company which is about to decline, 7 boys enter its halls.
-------
-------

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved.

Special Thanks to:
Logdesh, Ermory and SpaceIsLife

Written by Aeiara

At Suhyuk's voice, the senior smiled and opened his mouth. 

"I will no more take any questions."

Then he turned on the beam projector. The white screen was full of the skull and its corresponding denominations.

"What's all that?"

The faces of the students began to stain with despair. 

At a glance, the number of the medical terms were over a hundred.

They look like alien and Arabic words. Even more shocking was the senior's instruction: "I'll give you two minutes, and you'll take the test in two minutes, and today it's about the skull. If you cannot memorize them, you won't have any sleep tonight." 

"Oh, the study time is too short! Please give us more, please?"

At their urging, the senior added, "Okay, let me give you two and a half minutes."

Ticking.

The moment the second hand of the clock pointed to 12 o'clock, the senior opened his mouth again, "Start!"

The students started to concentrate intensely.

Some of them were muttering, and others memorizing from their notes. The senior folded his arms, looking at the juniors' studying for the test with a satisfactory expression. An old memory passed through his mind. He went through the same gruelling period when he had to memorize all that stuff.

At that moment Suhyuk raised his hand, asking the senior, "Sir" 

"Did I give them too much time? There is no time to ask…" 

With a slight smile, the senior said, "Okay, what is it?" 

Suhyuk replied cautiously, "I already memorized them in high school..."

In fact, he had not memorized them, but known them for a long time.  

The senior's eyes became wider, but soon went back to normal. 

At the end of the day, this was the kid who got the media limelight since his high school days and was admitted to this medical college with full scholarship. 

The senior felt it was possible Suhyuk had known the names, because the test is just about skull.

As if he appreciated Suhyuk's words, the senior came to him and presented a piece of A4 paper.

"You memorize this..."

Suhyuk confirmed what it was. A human body was drawn on it with countless names. Actually the number of bones in an adult man is 206. Moreover, the names of the neural system, muscles and blood vessels were also written down. How many names were on the paper in total? Well over one thousand. 

When Suhyuk was looking over the A4 paper sheet, the senior student walked back.

"Sir."

Suhyuk's voice caught his footstep, and he turned to Suhyuk again. 

"I know them already, too..."

He narrowed his eyes. With the paper upside down, he was scratching his head.

He knew everything on it. When his expectancy disappeared in a flash, Suhyuk found emptiness coming up in his heart. There was nothing new on the test. 

"Really?"

The senior then gave Suhyuk a pen.

"Let me give you 5 minutes for this test."

With a perplexed look, he said cautiously, because it was not something he could write down in five minutes.

"Sir, is it okay for me to answer verbally instead of writing down the names?" 

With his arms folded, the senior nodded his head.

It was right to do an oral test for this kind of thing. Can he pour out many terms at once? 

"Okay, let's start from the skull to the toe..."

"Fibula, frontal bone, stellate orbital surface, orbital surface, bony, frontal projection, orbital orbital surface, temporal projection…"

Wearing a hollow face, he looked at Suhyuk reciting the names, and shook his head as if he were sick and tired of him. Names that he already forgot or did not think about were coming out of his lips. There were about 20 seconds left. 

"Tarsals, Metatarsals, Phalanges..."

The classroom was quiet. Everyone's eyes were focused on Suhyuk, their mouth wide open, and then the senior burst into a laughter, "Hahaha!"

His laughter quickly stopped.

"What are you doing? Just go home now before you can't take the bus."

"Only me?" 

He gently smiled and nodded his head.

"Yeah, you know it all. You do not have to stay here."

Suhyuk, rising from the seat, made an uneasy face because he had to leave alone.

When he was hesitating, the senior opened his mouth again, 

"What are you doing? I can tell them know-how when even one student is done and goes home like you."  

That made sense.

When he tried to get out of the classroom, someone suddenly grabbed his hand. 

It was Choi Suryon.

She pointed at herself with her fingers and kept muttering to him to save her. 

"Choi Suryun," she was surprised at the senior's calling her.  

"Yes, yes." 

"Did you memorize everything?"

"Well... Time is too short…"

"Two minutes and thirty seconds passed." 

The beam projector was turned off and the senior handed down pieces of A4 paper to the juniors. 

"Test time is 3 minutes. I will give 10 minutes rest for those who get perfect scores. 2 minutes 30 seconds for the others. Start!"

Those looking at Suhyuk enviously quickly held pens to write down the names. 

"Goodbye... to a warm place..." said Choi.

Parting with her, Suhyuk, went out of the classroom bitterly. 

The senior whispered to himself, looking at his back, "He's just great..." 

He's never seen a student who mastered osteology while taking preparatory courses. Not only he but also his professors. 

The word 'osteology' was so infamous that it made the students rage with anger. 

"What kind of doctor will he become?" he muttered. 

There was nothing like jealousy in his murmuring as he looked at the door through which he left. He just had some sort of respect for him as a fellow traveller walking the same path. 

Turning his head back to his juniors, he laughed gently, saying, "One minute left."



-----



The season changed the clothes of the world a few times.

It was the same for Suhyuk. 

He became a first-year student in regular courses, and was walking in the hallway. 

Then, Choi Suryun, running from behind, ran toward him as if she wanted to take his arms.

"Hah, hah." 

Suhyuk shook his head at the sound of her wild panting. 

"Oops, looks like you're breathing your last. Walk slowly."

"Oh, huh, you know that? We are supposed to practice on a cadaver a week later."

When Suhyuk nodded indifferently, she made an expression as if to cry. 

"What should I do? I can not ... I can not!" 

She was already familiar with the picture of cadaver practice because she heard about it from the seniors. 

A cadaver without a leg, or with its neck twisted back. There was also a cadaver, with muscles and tendons revealed here and there after it was dissected. They were not different from us during their lifetime. Now comes the dissecting practice. Just a simple imagination of it made her tremble. 

"I really cannot do that." 

Suhyuk answered briefly, "You have to."

"Don't you feel scared at all?" 

Suhyuk walked with a smile at her words. 

Of course he did not feel indifferent to it. He was a little nervous. In his dreams he did  it countless times. But it is the first time he has to do it after he woke up.

It was a lie if he did not get nervous. Suhyuk blew away his tension with a short breath. 

He determined though, that he would get everything he could learn during cadaver practice to meet the wishes of the deceased who made a difficult decision in life. 

First-year students attending regular medical courses moved to the outskirts of the school. 

The memorial place was located outside the practice building, with a monument. The monument was offered by the bereaved to honor the deceased who donated their bodies. The monument did not contain a single name. Instead, seven portraits were hung on it.

Suhyuk looked at the faces in the photo one by one. And he muttered in his heart. 

'Thank you, thank you.'

"Silence."

The politely dressed students closed their eyes and bowed their heads at the teaching assistant's word. 

They could not be more quieter and holier. Some female students were seen shedding tears.

What kind of words were they conveying to the deceased? After that ceremony that did not last long, the students moved back to hear the lecture.



***



The students who turned pale barely moved to the practice place.  

Among the crowd was Suhyuk wearing a white gown. 

"What are you doing? Come in!" 

The teaching assistant pressed them. 

The students who lingered in front of the door started to go inside.

Seven wooden lids placed on the practice bench. 

"This is unit 1, that is unit 2…" 

According to the assistant's instruction, the students who have formed their own units moved to their designated practice bench. 

"It is the place where the deceased is located. Lay down the lid cautiously. Do it."

The practice room was quiet. They got so anxious. The wooden lid was lowered. The cadaver was illuminated over vinyl covering it. Have they ever seen a body like this before?

There were yellow subcutaneous fats on the skin that popped all over the place. 

"..."

The practitioners who closed their mouth trembled with panic and fear. 

The girls had already started shedding tears, and the boys became hardened like stone statues.

"Wheck!"

It was not uncommon for them to retch. They stepped back before they knew it. 

"Get close!"

At the cold voice of the assistant, the students, with closed eyes, approached the practice bench.

"Why are you crying in front of the noble resolve of the deceased?" 

He again pressed them. 

"The crying guys will get expelled from the room."

The atmosphere of the room was heavy. 

So much so that they could not hear even ants moving. 

The fragrance of formaldehyde from the cadaver made them sick and it pierced their eyes.

"Cut the vinyl with the scissors next to it."

Everyone hesitated. But before long, some courageous students began to cut the vinyl.

Then, the smell of formalin, which drifted silently, became clear. 

Good luck? They finished the cutting of the vinyl of the cadaver. With everybody shivering, Suhyuk stepped up and removed the vinyl calmly. 

It was a figure of an old man who seemed to be kind. 

Without any clue how he died, his face was a little distorted. 

By the time everyone was arranging the vinyl on one side, the professor came in.

Looking at the students, he opened his mouth, 

"In front of the cadaver, doing your best is a courtesy and a sign of respect."

Everyone nodded. They looked like they were pulling themselves.  

"The practice that we are doing now is the basis of the basics, and the blood and flesh from this cadaver will be the blood and flesh for you to be a doctor." 

Suhyuk belonged to unit 7, and even though they firmly refreshed their determination, no one came up to grab the scalpel. The unit members all looked at Suhyuk. With a bitter laugh, Suhyuk took the scalpel and closed his eyes briefly. 

"Grandpa. thank you for giving us the chance to learn."

Opening his eyes, he moved the scalpel up to the forearms of the cadaver.

As soon as the scalpel was applied to the skin, it was opened up slightly. It passed through the dermis and cut off the subcutaneous fat. The yellow fat clenched the muscles messily. 

Then he removed the delts calmly. Then he handed the scalpel to the other student next to him.

He was handed the scalpel with a trembling hand.

"You can do it, you have to." 

At Suhyuk's encouragement, he nodded, swallowing dried saliva on his mouth. 

Unexpectedly, the practice was going well.

Not only the boys who hesitated, but also the girls who were tearful regained their composure and cut the skin. 

Suhyuk, watching his unit members, unconsciously examined the whole body of the cadaver.

Then one area attracted his attention. A string mark on the neck was clear. "Suicide?" 

"Though he ended his life regrettably, his bereaved family donated his body according to his will," said the assistant, passing by. 

Suhyuk nodded his head. 

"We'll resume after 10 minutes' break," said the professor.

The students flocked to the bathroom as soon as he said that, and so did Suhyuk. 

At that moment, he made a frown when he was getting out of the door.

He smelt alcohol from someone out there.

The guy who was freaking out that he could not practice in a sober condition finally had a drink. 

He wondered how he got in here without being caught by the assistant. 

The break time passed quickly. Originally, it took one or two weeks to dissect, but because of the internal situation of the school, they had to finish all the dissection practice in eight hours.

So they have to come back again in less than a month. Shaking their heads, they went back to the cadaver. 

This time, Suhyuk was the first to take a scalpel. At his unhindered movement, his unit members were just astonished. Given the dissecting speed, it looked like they were able to see everything from the origin of muscles to the insertion. He clearly showed not only the blood vessels but also the tendons to the unit members, which he cut off clearly. The boys muttered with a blank expression,

"He's different ..."

He looked like he was born to be a doctor.

The girls listened to Suhyuk's explanation while taking a glance at the cadaver. 

The assistant walking around was astonished at him, who had been demonstrating on his own why he was famous.

"Damn it! You guys are chopping the muscles…" shouted the assistant, rushing toward the Unit 2 members.

The time was already approaching 6 PM. 

Now the weary students looked at the cadavers with indifferent eyes. 

What remained for them was to look into the organs.

The professor said, "The organs can be extracted but should be kept as original as possible."

Suhyuk naturally raised his hand on cadaver's belly, and when he stopped his hand, he moved the scalpel without hesitation. 

A thin peritoneal membrane encircling the organs was revealed. 

A very delicate technique.

Other boys would have split it with the skin, however, there was no way they could know about it. 

"This is the peritoneum," said Suhyuk.

Did they listen to him? They were anxious, swallowing dry saliva, looking at the organs behind it.

Suhyuk was forced to move the scalpel again. The internal organs were evident when the peritoneum was dissected. 

"I think that swelling will happen ..." 

The thorax was swollen as a whole.

Then Suhyuk lifted the ribs. The organs seemed to stick together with a sticky mucus. 

The unit members barely pulled themselves through, though they felt like passing out. 

Unlike them, Suhyuk was casting his gaze at the cadaver here and there. 

The organs looked different from normal ones. 

"What the heck is this ..." 

The swollen lung covered almost all the chest as if it was full of water. 

Besides, it covered even the stomach and duodenum.

Suhyuk lifted up his head. His gaze was fixed at the neck of the cadaver with a clear line mark.

Suhyuk's eyes fell down coldly.

The golden hour where one can save a life.

Golden Time.

 -----

Revised Synopsis :

Golden time is a Korean Medical Drama/ Reincarnation Novel. The novel is short and progresses quickly as the main character is sent back in time to his teenage years when he got into a severe accident. Causing him to lose most of his memories and even trapping him in a coma for three months. The main character wakes up 3 months later where the only memory remaining in his head are his medical knowledge and his name.

A story about the life of a young teenage boy growing up as he strives to save as many lives as he can and becoming the greatest doctor in the world.

Golden Time, a moment in which a life can be saved!

**A licensed novel from Munpia**

Sucked. 

I felt sucked and spat out like a big wad of lint. It took me a while to realize that I was still lying on the steel scaffold with Colin next to me.

The square panel was off again. He was already conscious and fiddling about the Lotus Core. 

"Did we do it?" I whispered. Uneasy at the silence surrounding us.

Colin sighed with disappointment.

"What now?" I gulped.

"Good news. We're linked to the correct time. The walls, in theory, should stop moving. Bad news. The Lotus Bridge is still out of alignment with the labyrinth," he answered.

"What else is needed to pull the bridge back into working order?" I whispered. 

No way was I going to give up.

"Sacral magic. That'd only achieve the demon's aims. The only other magic I know of that can reset and revert time slips without moving destiny is Null. I've never known anyone with that power. I don't even know if it's real or some magis fantasy." Colin gravely stated our options.

"If we were to use sacral magic. And not play into the Hiruda's hands. It would restore the balance and working order. Right?"

"Yeah. The time part. However, the destiny the Hiruda had set here will become permanent. It requires the Power of Preservation to isolate the fate. So it doesn't move when time is restored." Colin's explanation went over my head.

He broke down his explanation with an analogy similar to the one Death had provided on time cells.

Basically, Sol was like a vinyl record. The Lotus Bridge a song track. Time was a gramophone playing arm and needle. The destinies were grooves on the record. False destinies were light scratches over the record's grooves. If they were left unattended for too long, they would deepen and become a permanent destiny to overwrite the original score. The Power of Preservation was like a container and an eraser for those light scratches; re-coating the shellac so proper destiny could resume its natural course uninterrupted.

That was good for the destiny issue. We also had a time problem to deal with. I was doing my best not to feel our situation hopeless.

"Brother. The Power of Preservation will not be enough to reset the false destiny you are facing—" I recalled Pesti's words from that vision. It was a dream, right?

"Hey. What if we had both the Power of Preservation and Null. How would that work exactly?" I threw out the idea.

Colin raised his brows. His expression was clearly telling me not to waste time on a ridiculous hypothesis.

Abrupt quaking to the scaffold reminded us of the villain topside. 

Colin resealed the Lotus Core. I understood that we had done all we could here. We needed to be topside as well. 

I was worried Brystagg was facing his limit, and the Aueralius Brothers' chi was almost gone as they continued to being the power boost for the bridge's stability.

"How do we get up there?" I glanced around. Unable to see a way off this swinging and creaking scaffold. 

I gulped a nervous breath and counted numbers to calm my rapid heartbeats when my leg dangled over the formless space.

Colin answered my question with a knowing smile and a tap of his fob watch.

Magic. Of course.

I've decided to continue updating this story on Tapread.com. This story has moved there http://www.tapread.com/book/detail/96

I do not own this the credit goes to novelplanet the only thing i did was to load it on webnovel if you wanna report me i get it



 Author: NAM Heesung

 Translator: LMSnovel

"And that was how we almost got caught fingering in the washroom of Bourbon Steak," I exclaimed, with Nathan listening attentively on a bean bag chair next to me.

It had been a week since it happened. Brad and I have then gone on dates continually, and I believed I was starting to actually fall for him. Sitting in Nathan's messy room, I was telling him about all that happened between me and Brad. 

"Sex aside, he's such a sweet guy," I muttered. "Not only did he treat me to that fancy restaurant, he bought us tickets to the Central Ferris Wheel which expires next month I think."
"Ooh, that's romantic. They say the Central Ferris Wheel is the number one kissing spot in Ophrus," Nathan pointed. "He's a keeper."
"Knowing him, we'll probably do more than just kissing up there," I replied.

"Oh yeah, about that, I still can't believe you just let someone casually give you a blowjob in the cinema like it's nothing!" Nathan put both his hands behind his head. "And finger your professor in a public bathroom stall! That's wicked, man."

"I know, and it was so thrilling, you know," I waved my arms. "I've never done anything in public before."
"You know I haven't either. Lucky, you,"
I faced him again. 

Although he used to live in Mexico, he was actually African American and had medium brown chocolate complexion. He also had a headful of short, scruffy black hair, and some hair growing out of his chin. A light stubble surrounded his tall, square face and looked as if it was developing into a chinstrap beard. Wearing no more than a tight tee and grey cotton shorts, you could see that he was also a fit and lean guy. He had the kind of laugh that was infectious, all with a great sense of humor too. I used to think he had the cutest smile, with the way his eyes squinted every time he laughed. 

He was a messy person though; his room was always the most chaotic and I could see he hasn't changed at all. His clothes were piled on a single chair, a stack of fallen books on his desk collecting dust, and his blanket was scrunched up on the carpet. Typical of him, I thought to myself. He did really like music though, as evidenced by the presence of an electronic drum set and a boxful of vinyl in the corner of his room, one of which I actually gifted him for Christmas. It was SZA's debut album "Ctrl".

Though Nathan was one year younger than me, he went to school one year earlier, so we'd ended up in the same class during high school. 
He didn't look gay superficially, but he'd make so many references to homosexuality that you would know he was. I could still remember the initial time walking into his room when he first moved, solely because of that Frank Ocean poster on his wall that actually later on made me interested in his music. 

I must have blanked out for a short while there, as Nathan narrowed his eyes and asked, "What's up, why you looking at me like that?"
I blinked and shook my head.
"I just remembered how I told Brad you were my first,"
"What the hell? You did?"
"No, like I didn't mention your name at all. I just told him my first time with a guy was four years ago."
"Oh, that's a relief." 
There was a brief moment of quietness. 
We exchanged a series of glances.

"Remember when I moved in next to your parents' house?" Nathan grinned.
"You were the new neighbor," I reminisced.
"I thought you were so cute, so I tried to make a move on you."
"I remember,"
"And then that one night when we had that sleepover,"
"Let's not talk about that…"
"Why not, man? We've been avoiding this topic for ages now, haven't we?"
"I just don't feel comfortable talking about it, you know me."
"We are literally BFFs, Ped. Why can't we talk about this? There's nothing to be ashamed of. We were young and experimented with each other, that's all."
I became silent.
Turning my head to face Nathan, I blurted, "To me, that wasn't just experimenting. I had feelings for you back then, Nathan. Maybe I still do, I don't know. But let's just halt this conversation where it is, alright? I'm… confused."
Nathan had a low-spirited expression. He held both my shoulders, and leaned in for a quick peck on the lips.
"That's how I feel about you, Ped."
Without any exchange of words, he sat on my lap and we locked our lips together again, inciting a more passionate kiss with tongue.

Disclaimer: this novel is very gay and NSFW

Gay college student Ped Luca falls in love with a young professor Brad and tries to maintain a discrete relationship in campus, while his friends Nathan and Antonia help them cover up.

Volume 1: After a fateful encounter one morning, Ped goes on a series of dates with his new professor Brad that are filled with steamy moments and situations.

Volume 2: Ped and his new professor boyfriend Brad spend their first summer together as a couple, meeting new people and trying new things along the way.

Volume 3: As Ped’s third year of college begins, he tries to find balance in his relationships with Brad and Nathan while he is offered an interesting side-job.

Tuesday had arrived, and I could not wait to meet the stranger Michelle told me about yesterday. But after experiencing a few nightmares this past week, I felt the need to relieve some stress out of my body.

Just before Charissa went to work, she had left a handwritten note on the table for me to read carefully. She wrote:

Dear Christine, 

I left you a few pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Hope you enjoy them. And don't forget to clean the house and work on some laundry today. Take care.

Sincerely yours, Charissa

After some breakfast and a few errands, I finally found time to chill and unwind in the living room. At first, I tried watching some television, but there was no good programs to choose from. At that moment, a 30-year-old vinyl player and a few LPs on the cabinet generated my attention.

My dear mother Charissa was an avid new wave fan. She undoubtedly had a valuable collection of Spandau Ballet, Culture Club, INXS and Tears for Fears records. There was also a Mr. Mister 'Welcome to the Real World' LP, graciously given to her as a gift from one of her esteemed colleagues.

I carefully carried the vinyl player and the Mr. Mister record to the table to check if they are still in good working condition. As it turned out, the appliance played just fine and the LP sounded as beautiful as before.

One song that brought my attention was 'Broken Wings', in particular its very tearful chorus. 

Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again
And learn to live so free
When we hear the voices sing
The book of love will open up
And let us in

I sang to 'Broken Wings' and felt my singing voice was as vibrant as ever. It also helped that Cathy taught me some vocal lessons in the summer, although becoming a prolific recording artist was not my forte.

Charissa's other records were also played, much to my delight. But these days, digital streaming is popular and more accessible in my time. Nevertheless, it was fun to dust off that old vinyl record and play an LP or two every once in a while.

While Charissa was a self-confessed new wave fan, I leaned more into sentimental ballads because of my troublesome experiences as a kid. One example was when Cathy played 'Don't Cry Out Loud' during her visit to the room, a sentimental song which brought tears to my eyes.

On this particular day, however, no tears were shed. Instead, I gladly listened to some of the songs on my mobile phone.

There were the classics like 'Careless Whisper' by George Michael and 'Hello' by Lionel Richie. I also dabbled into modern-day hits which include 'We're Never Ever Getting Back Together' by Taylor Swift and 'Thinking Out Loud' by Ed Sheeran.

I always thought of these songs as mental therapy for all the pressures and demands of life, particularly during school days. When bad days happen, music became my source of relaxation and healing.

Later that afternoon, I dropped by a newly opened music store to look at some fresh vinyl records. The store was located a stone's throw from the condominium so walking there was much more convenient.

While I do love to listen on my digital devices, the experience of tuning in to Charissa's vinyl player remains as gratifying as ever. When played on a turntable, an LP sounded more natural than its digital counterparts. That said, I got curious with all the newly released vinyl records that were on sale.

"Do you have any new albums for sale, sir?" 

The store owner answered, "We do have a couple of new ones, mostly classics. I have some Fleetwood Mac, The Cure, and even Hall and Oates for you."

"Fleetwood Mac?" I said to the store owner. "There is the 'Rumours' album in my unit and I love listening to 'Dreams'.

"But Fleetwood Mac is more than just the 'Rumours' album," he responded. "We also have the 'Mirage' and 'Tango in the Night' LPs inside the store. You can sample them here at the turntable for free."

I listened to portions of the 'Mirage' and 'Tango in the Night' albums and it turned out to be both beautiful. The record store owner even implied that 'Little Lies' and 'Hold Me' were the two best songs to listen to on a bad day.

I did have another question in mind, though. "How about The Cure and Hall and Oates? Are they good too?" 

He replied, "They also sound great, particularly the 'Disintegration' and 'Voices' albums. If your day is miserable, then check out 'Lovesong' and 'You Lost That Lovin' Feeling'. They fit your mood pretty well."

After careful sampling and consideration, I decided to buy The Cure's 'Disintegration' record. To me, it felt like an album most teens would want to listen to on a moody day. 

But I never intended becoming a goth like Robert Smith. Nevertheless, the gloomy sound of their album attracted my attention, especially the slow ones such as 'Lovesong'.

That night I played the album to Charissa who had just returned from work. She reacted by saying "Very dark but impressive. I like this album. How much did you pay for it?"

"Around P 1500," my response to the owner.

Charissa followed up by saying "It's too expensive, but then again I used to buy some of the records myself. Thus, I'll forgive you for spending so much."

"But to be honest, our turntable is too old and a bit worn out," she added. "We must replace it soon. What do you say?"

I answered, "Why not? It may be expensive, but we really need an upgrade."

For the rest of the night Charissa and I enjoyed a hearty dinner while listening to some of the other LPs in our unit. It was a very joyful time for both me and Charissa as we relived the days of our youth.

The next morning, I received a text message from Michelle. Looking into my smartphone, I wondered what news Michelle would bring today.

Christine, a 22-year-old college student, decides to open a blog and write a story about her tormented past.

As a young child, Christine was constantly abused and mocked by her classmates for her nearsightedness and portly complexion. To make matters worse, she was left to live with her aunt after her mother was assigned to work overseas and her father became too preoccupied in his work as a doctor.

This story is about a young woman's pursuit towards positivity and joy amid these turbulent times. For Christine, all she wants now is to face her fears and overcome them one by one.

vinyl sayings for bathroom walls

bathroom writings

SS Glasgow Castle

Trusting Milo

Obscured in Darkness

[OLD] Over the Top: The Track to Fame

Golden Time

Seriphyn Knight Chronicles

The legendary Moonlight Sculptor

The Lone City Boy

Scars of My Past

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