How do I shoot heroin safely

How to shoot heroin safely – a picture guide for children « A Con…?

http://www.dustbury.com/archives/9658

Dustbury looks at the state of fiction – In any given literary, or sub-literary, genre, the percentage of Good Stuff is, per Sturgeon, around ten; fervid promotion by the Hype Machine won’t change that, but it will draw your attention to th…

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Q: kellannI walked home from school. My hair smelled of cigarettes and my clothes, of stale crack. I kicked an empty sarynge across the side walk as I avoided eye-contact with anyone else. I silently prayed that I would safely return home, only to find myself praying again. When I finally got to out apartment, I pushed opened the door, even though it was hanging by a hinge. I ran up the fire escape, and into my filthy apartment. The floor was covered in beer bottles and needles, and my parents were nowhere in sight, a usual day. I opened our moldy cabinet and found some goldfish. My destroyed school books on the floor, untouched. There is no point in trying, nothing else to do. I come home to an empty house, and leave to my high parents only to get to school to see someone get shot. I walked into the rusted bathroom, stepping over broken glass and spilled white powders. Straws were spewed over the sink. I looked at my reflection. Sad blue eyes, and pale skin. My shaggy, greasy hair hanging over my thick eyebrows. Resisting the urge to throw something at it. I had no friends, nothing. Disgusted, I went to my room. My mom was high, throwing my belongings and banging her head against everything. I had to leave. I ran out of my unsafe home, to even worse streets. I looked around, two 8 year old were shooting up heroin, as a pregnant 10 year old sauntered by in a tube top, and mini skirt with her 17 year old boyfriend. In the distance I heard gunshots, and a siren. I turned the corner to go into the nicer neighborhoods. Slowly as I walked the buildings were nicer, people were cleaner, and drug dealers were far and few. I found my self in a rich neighborhood. Two 8 year olds were walking a dog in their school uniforms, and a 16 year old couple walked by holding hands and laughing. Everyone who passed me stared. I knew I didn’t belong here, in my tattered jeans, and stained sweatshirt, someone was sure to call the cops. I sat on the prettiest bench, in sight. As I sat, I felt someone behind me. I felt the cold-sweat of fear set in, before I reminded myself where I was. A tall, raven-haired girl sat next to me. She smiled, and stuck out her hand, “Sorry I just sat, hope you don’t mind, My name’s Nadia.” she stated, eyes gleaming. I stuck out my dry hand. “Kellann.” , I replied. We shook hands. “You knew here?” my heart stopped. “Nah, I’m from The Bronx.” NadiaI walked home from school, my hair smelled of sweet flowers, and my skin of my friends cologne. I kicked a rock as I smiled to everyone within sight. I thought of how wonderful the day would be only to go home and find out. I got home, pushed open the big door and went up our wooden steps. My house smelled of tomato sauce, and the floor was clean. My Parents were home early, and greeted me. I skipped to the bathroom, and smiled at myself. I brushed my long hair, and curled my eyelashes. As I went to my room, I changed my mind, and went outside. I walked to the city limits and s

A: That was good.u should finish itand then post it againi would love to read it!!!=Dthat was really brilliant!!!

Do you like my story?

Q: kellannI walked home from school. My hair smelled of cigarettes and my clothes, of stale crack. I kicked an empty sarynge across the side walk as I avoided eye-contact with anyone else. I silently prayed that I would safely return home, only to find myself praying again. When I finally got to out apartment, I pushed opened the door, even though it was hanging by a hinge. I ran up the fire escape, and into my filthy apartment. The floor was covered in beer bottles and needles, and my parents were nowhere in sight, a usual day. I opened our moldy cabinet and found some goldfish. My destroyed school books on the floor, untouched. There is no point in trying, nothing else to do. I come home to an empty house, and leave to my high parents only to get to school to see someone get shot. I walked into the rusted bathroom, stepping over broken glass and spilled white powders. Straws were spewed over the sink. I looked at my reflection. Sad blue eyes, and pale skin. My shaggy, greasy hair hanging over my thick eyebrows. Resisting the urge to throw something at it. I had no friends, nothing. Disgusted, I went to my room. My mom was high, throwing my belongings and banging her head against everything. I had to leave. I ran out of my unsafe home, to even worse streets. I looked around, two 8 year old were shooting up heroin, as a pregnant 10 year old sauntered by in a tube top, and mini skirt with her 17 year old boyfriend. In the distance I heard gunshots, and a siren. I turned the corner to go into the nicer neighborhoods. Slowly as I walked the buildings were nicer, people were cleaner, and drug dealers were far and few. I found my self in a rich neighborhood. Two 8 year olds were walking a dog in their school uniforms, and a 16 year old couple walked by holding hands and laughing. Everyone who passed me stared. I knew I didn’t belong here, in my tattered jeans, and stained sweatshirt, someone was sure to call the cops. I sat on the prettiest bench, in sight. As I sat, I felt someone behind me. I felt the cold-sweat of fear set in, before I reminded myself where I was. A tall, raven-haired girl sat next to me. She smiled, and stuck out her hand, “Sorry I just sat, hope you don’t mind, My name’s Nadia.” she stated, eyes gleaming. I stuck out my dry hand. “Kellann.” , I replied. We shook hands. “You knew here?” my heart stopped. “Nah, I’m from The Bronx.” NadiaI walked home from school, my hair smelled of sweet flowers, and my skin of my friends cologne. I kicked a rock as I smiled to everyone within sight. I thought of how wonderful the day would be only to go home and find out. I got home, pushed open the big door and went up our wooden steps. My house smelled of tomato sauce, and the floor was clean. My Parents were home early, and greeted me. I skipped to the bathroom, and smiled at myself. I brushed my long hair, and curled my eyelashes. As I went to my room, I changed my mind, and went outside. I walked to the city limits and s

A: It’s pretty good and quite interesting, keep it up!