Dancing in Notre Dame

They still whisper about me. Most of them don't even bother to lower their voice when I'm nearby. Ты would think that after eight years they would find something else to talk about. Although, I suppose when you're locked up in a mental hospital with no real connection to the outside world, there isn't much else to talk about. Most of the other patients are so drugged up или have been through one too many electric shock therapy sessions and can scarcely remember their own name; but they remember my story.

I can't blame them, I guess; the story is quite unusual. A ten-year-old girl follows a white...

A beautiful, young princess жасмин is in her room brushing her long jet black hair. With a hint of Любовь in her eyes, she sighs. Tonight...was the perfect night. She thinks to herself. KNOCK KNOCK! Before жасмин answers, someone enters her bedroom. She looks into the mirror and sees her older brother, Ankith. "Ankith?" жасмин gets up from her soft Любовь сиденье, место, сиденья and twirls around in a circle. "Oh brother, you're here!" Ankith hugs his sister Jasmine. "I missed Ты so much!" she says. "I know. So did I." Suddenly, Ankith's smile turns into a frown. They both let go of their hug. "What is it Ankith?"...