Haunted Nights 26th June 2013

Just laying awake thinking of you Ash. Not theres a day that goes by where I dont think of you and just wonder if this is even real, because even though I know its been over 3 years since you've last been seen or heard from something in my heart wont fully allow me to accept that your Missing and to make a already hard situation even worse is there are many people who hold the answers as to what really happened but for reasons that only a heartless, cold and down right inhumane person and/or people that know the whos, whats and whereabouts of youwould be able to explain how they lay there head down at night and dont even think twice about the heartbreak and tourment they put everyone through that loves you and misses you. I dont know how to make a plea to the devil other then selling my soul to them but honestly I didnt have to sell them my soul because they have robbed it and continue to break what I have left. Why ??? why or what is the reason for this tourment?? what could Ashley have done so bad that NOONE will step up and tell what they know??? WHY... what is wrong with you damn people, dont you have a heart??? Enough already I'm so sick of wondering every passing day where she is , why wont anyone speak up but most of all WHY???? I'm sick of the whys and want the answers. This is smalbany so I know alot of you hoodrats or wanna be thugs know what happened, so come on hoodrat, thug or gangsta be that G or thug you claim and own your shit.. Step up and say yeah I know what happened or who took part in her disapparence.. Come on your a G right?? well last time I checked a real wise guy would take proud ownership to there dirt , but guessI just answered my own question and why you all keep quiet because your wannabe's and honestly a straight bitch.... Yup thats right I'm calling all you clowns out, what are ya gonna do continue on being clowns/wannabes?? let me know how that works out for you when you get locked up for life, 6 feet in the ground or hey maybe youll go Missing. Think and try to put a little heart into it and be a offical G and SPEAK UP!!! Snitches might get stitches but bitches get stitches too... So the choice is yours Man or Bitch whats it gonna be?? Calling you out seeing your too scared to come out on your own.. Tick Tick yup just waiting to see if anyone has the balls to speak up... Lol I wont count on it but just so you know Ill forever haunt you and Im NEVER going away... So let your BS continue one day it will all catch you if I dont first Tired of the games but mostly sick knowing sooooo many of you losers know and dont tell. Beep Beep Karma is coming!!!
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WARNING! Carry on
reading! Or you will die, even if you
only looked at the word warning!
Once there was a little girl called
Clarissa, she was ten-years-old and

she lived in a mental hospital,
because she killed her mom and her
dad. She got so bad she went to kill
all the staff in the hospital so the
More-government decided that best
idea was to get rid of her so they
set up a special room to kill her, as
humane as possible but it went
wrong the machine they were using
went wrong. And she sat there in
agony for hours until she died. Now
every week on the day of her death
she returns to the person that reads
this letter, on a monday night at
12:00a.m. She creeps into your
room and kills you slowly, by
cutting you and watching you bleed
to death. Now send this to ten other
pictures on this one site, and she
will haunt someone else who
doesn't. This isn't fake. apparently,
if u copy and paste this to ten
comments in the next ten minutes u
will have the best day of ur life
tomorrow. u will either get kissed
or asked out, if u break this chain u
will see a little dead girl in your
room tonight.
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Go Wifey

An old man and woman were
Married for many years and they grew to hate each other.

When they had a confrontation, screaming and yelling could be heard deep into the night.
The old man would shout,
'When I die, I will dig my way up and out of the grave and
Come back and haunt you for the rest of your life!'
Neighbours feared him. They believed he practiced black magic, because of the many strange occurrences that took place in their neighbourhood.

The old man liked the fact that he was feared.. To everyone's relief, he died of a heart attack when he was 98.
His wife had a closed casket at the wake. After the burial, she went straight to the local bar and began to party, as if there was no tomorrow..

Her neighbours, concerned for her safety, asked, 'Aren't you afraid that he may indeed be able to dig his way up and out of the grave and come back to
Haunt you for the rest of your life?'

The wife put down her drink
And said, 'Let him dig. I had him buried upside down......'

Women...................................... They think of everything!! !!
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WARNING! CARRY ON READING OR ELSE YOU WILL DIE, even if you only looked at the word warning! Once their was a little girl named Clarissa. She was ten-years-old and she lived in a mental hospital because she killed her mom and dad. She got so bad that she went to go kill all the staff in the hospital, so the More-government decided that the best idea was to get rid of her so they set up a special room to kill her as humane as possible, but it went wrong the machine they were using went wrong. And she sat there in agony for hours until she died. Now every week on the day of her death, she returns to the person that read this letter on Monday night at 12:00a.m. she creeps into your room and kills you slowly, by cutting you and watching you bleed to death. Now send this to ten pictures on this one site, and she will haunt someone else who doesn't. This isn't fake. Apparently, if you copy and paste this in the next ten minutes, u will have the best day of your life tomorrow. U will either get kissed or asked out . If u break the chain u will see a little see a little dead girl in your room. In 53 mins someone will say I love you or I'm sorry
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guess ill just go kick it in spring
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Everytime you feel like you cannot go on You feel so lost That your so alone All you is see is night And darkness all around You feel so helpless You can’t see which way to go Don’t despair and never loose hope Cause Allah is always by your side Insha Allah Insha Allah Insha Allah Insya Allah you’ll find your way Everytime you commit one more mistake You feel you can’t repent And that its way too late Your’re so confused, wrong decisions you have made Haunt your mind and your heart is full of shame Don’t despair and never loose hope Cause Allah is always by your side Insha Allah Insha Allah Insha Allah Insya Allah you’ll find your way Insha Allah Insha Allah Insha Allah Insya Allah you’ll find your way Turn to Allah He’s never far away Put your trust in Him Raise your hands and pray OOO Ya Allah Guide my steps don’t let me go astray You’re the only one that showed me the way, Showed me the way Showed me the way Insyaallah Insha Allah Insha Allah Insha Allah
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WARNING! CARRWARNING! CARRY ON READING OR ELSE
YOU WILL DIE, even if you only looked at the word warning!
Once there was a littlegirl named Clarissa. She was ten-
years-old and she lived in amental hospital because she
killed her mom and dad. She got so bad that she went to kill
all the staff in the hospital, so the More-governmentdecided
that the best idea was to get ridof her so they set up a special
room to kill her as humane as possible, but it went wrong the
machine they were using went wrong. And she sat there in
agony for hours until she died. Now every week on the day of
her death, she returns to the person that reads this letter, ona
Monday night at 12:00a.m. She creeps into your room and
kills you slowly, by cutting you and watching you bleed to
death. Now send this to ten other pictures on this one site, and
she will haunt someone else who doesn't. This isn't
fake.Apparently, if you copy and paste this to ten comments in
the next ten minutes, u will have the best day of ur life
tomorrow. U will either get kissedY ON READING OR ELSE
YOU WILL DIE, even if you only looked at the word warning enti boss nammutara?

belieber #
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Minute by minute: How the abortion vote happened http://bit.ly/17CEKai
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For those coming on my hen night I've had a few tx and been stopped and asked where we are ending the night as people have different opions well just want to say ill be happy to see anyone who turns up but please feel free to end the night where you want to as it seems to be a problem .ill be putting this on the event page 2.
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Should this man be jailed for animal abuse?? {Comment Yes or No}
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Dharidhraniki Dhaari Chupe
Dharidhrulu Ante Evaro Thelsa??
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E Status Ni chusi kuda Like cheyani Vale... :p :p

stunt rider
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I have given all my love to you, but what do I get in return?
A broken heart.
I have given you my heart, and you stomp on it like a doormat.
I have given you my youth and you took advantage of my un-experienced heart and played with my emotions.
I gave you all the trust, but you misused it.
I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and you proved everyone right.
I gave you my life and you killed me day by day.
I want to pull my aching heart and tear it piece by piece, So I no longer love you.
I want to loose my memory so I no longer think of you.
I want to go so far so I no longer have to see you.
I want to cry but I no longer have any more tears to fall down
my sad lonely face.
I want to sleep but my dreams haunt me with you in them.
I can’t seem to find a way out. What do I do?
I don’t want anyone to see this not even you.
How do I get out of this?
How do I stop this misery? How do solve this mystery?
I can’t seem to find anyone to make feel the way you do,
The way you look at me,
the way you say my name,
the sound of your voice when you tell me that you care.
I love you so much I think I’m going to die from this pain that haunts day and night.
How can forget you? If the only love I know is you.
How can I move on? If life is not the same with out you.
I want to brake free and move on but I think I’ll be doing something wrong.
I just have to close my eyes and let things fly and let the days pass me by.
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I have the two most sickest, nastiest, gross-est, disgusting, revolting-est, horrible-est best friends in the word! Lorie I hope clowns wait for u in your closet at night and john I hope those little girls from the freddy Kruger movies show up in your dreams for the rest of y'alls lives!!!!! Fkn sickos!
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Watching Wendy Davis filibuster in Texas last night was amazing! Amazing to see her pull it off and amazing to see the lengths the GOP will go to "win". They did everything to cut her short-they took a vote after midnight-which violated procedure--and even changed the timestamp. Unfortunately for them this is where their hatred of science and technology comes back to haunt them- 180,000 were watching on YouTube-not sure they know about the "interwebs"--so they couldn't get away with it. Anyway- seeing that along with the SC gutting the VRA just reminds me- all these hard fought victories for women and LGBT and minorities could disappear in a heartbeat if they keep us from our right to vote.
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Yes like many of my friends have already done so. I want to take sometime to remember and honor my friend since boot camp Taylor Richards, his soul is in a better place. May he enjoy the fruits of heaven and he will watch down on all of us. Until this day I live with the guilt of his death. That night will forever haunt me because I believe it should have been me.

Rest in peace Hero!
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Chat post !!! saradaga chat cheddam randi !!!
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boys n girls oka game adadham...:)

boys meeki vanta vaccha?
vaste em varieties chestaru
b frank guys..

girls u too can cmmnt....:p

crct ga cheppandi...

belieber #
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Famous dialogue of dark knight. Joker: if i say, a bus full of soldiers is blasted then people don't care, but if i say i will kill mayor of city, then people will worry as if mayor is like their family...!!! dis is bitter truth about people...
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DHoni: sakshi give me a cup of coffee..
Sakshi: In which cup 07,11, OR 13..
This post made me worst,sad..:/
tHIS IS dhoni fans they dont know the value of National cup...They feeling Cofee cup = ICC cup ?
THATs why i created a post to show INDIA first...
(CHECK COMMENT box for that post Link)
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Comment on Geoffrey Kazinda’s 5 year jail term by the Anti Corruption Court
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Tharki Saleygadu

Boy - I Hav A Very Bad Habit???

Girl - Wht Ur Sayng... Whats Tht???

Boy - I M A "Smoker"

Girl- Ohh God Its Very Bad Habit
It May Lead To Cancer Also
Plz Stop Smoking ..??

Boy - Ya But If U Keep My Lipsbusy
I Wont Smoke !

Girl- Awww :*:*:*:

$atish
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''BBATheChase''
As they sat outside sometime today, Bolt, Fatima and Elikem were rather brutal in their chat about how they plan on
fooling Pokello into thinking that Bolt likes her. The aim here was to have Bolt make moves on
Pokello while Elikem pretended he knew nothing
about it. They want to see Pokello’s reaction when
Bolt does his thing. It might seem like Elikem feels ‘burdened’ by his
relationship with Pokello because he told Bolt that if
he could take her off his hands, he would be
relieved. Elikem is such a mean man, how can he
say that about Pokello? Fatima was confused as to
why Elikem won’t own up as a man and just leave Pokello alone. This was a valid point to which he
said he was working on it. Bolt said if he had to date her it would be on the
down low and no one in the House would know
about it.
“But Africa will know the game, “ Elikem motivated.
Fatima concurred and encouraged the Sierra
Leonian to go for it. The guys were convinced that their plan to play Pokello would be entertaining to Africa, so it was imperative that they toy around
with her. Hopefully this plan will not backfire on the two
boys because Pokello would not take kindly to it
and we all know what happens when she’s not
happy with you; she finds a way of getting rid of
you. In yesterday’s Diary session, the Zimbabwean
dame minced no words when relating how her survival instinct kicks in; “I fight like a man when I
have to,” she emphasized.

Will Pokello fall for this trap or will the guys regret
ever thinking about it?

T2#
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Tonight I am hosting the multiple award winning Karaoke Night at the Haunt Ithaca from 8pm to close. It's wing night too from 6-10pm. Grab your friends and I'll see all of you tonight!!
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Sleep walking........... I look around and everyone's acting like robots, not a single free thought as they walk, society's engineers, which are controlled by their own fear.

Dream jumping........... Millions of images flipping through my mind, like movie slides of people's cries, the pain of Purgatory, aching for love and glory.

Conscious........... Feeling no love for anyone, I'm not sure if I'll be void, and if I die before the night, I will probably come back as lice. To taunt you, haunt you, aggravate you, cause you to go out and buy lice shampoo and special combs, hide behind your ear, slowly eating your scalp, running from your scratch, falling on your shoulder, crawling back up for another snatch.

To the ex from me.
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Rockers & the 59 Club: A British Perspective
The 59 Club by Stuart Barker

In the 1960s, the 59 Club was the biggest, most famous motorcycle club in the world, and a notorious hangout for outcasts and misfits. Half a century later, the incredible story of a gang of hoodlums and a pair of leather-clad vicars continues to amaze.

If you rode a motorcycle and wore a black leather jacket in London in the 1960s, there were few places you’d be welcome. The Biker Boys of the time had such a bad reputation that most cafés, cinemas and clubs banned them. The only place they could congregate was at a truck stop in North London called the Ace Café. There, the original ton-up boys would work on their bikes, swap tales of riding exploits, eat greasy trucker food and take part in illegal burn-ups. A favourite pastime was to put a rock’n’ roll record on the jukebox and race each other round the block, trying to get back before the song had finished.

If you didn’t ride a bike and didn’t adhere to the ritual dress code of leather jacket, duck’s arse haircut and battered jeans, you didn’t dare go to The Ace. Many citizens were terrified to even pass the place. In polite society, these disaffected young men had no friends. They were outcasts, despised and feared in equal measure.

Like everyone else, the late Father Shergold (1919-2009) feared the Rockers who hung out at The Ace but, being a keen bike rider himself, he felt they could be ‘saved’ from a life of crime if they had some purpose and somewhere to belong. In the November 1966 issue of Link – the magazine of The 59 Club – Father Shergold recalled: “Because of their dress, their noisy bikes and their tendency to move in gangs, nobody wanted them. Dance halls refused them, bowling alleys told them to go home. Youth clubs were afraid of them. Even transport cafés didn’t welcome their custom.

Shergold wanted to go to the Ace and give out religious posters for the benefit of the bikers but feared the reception he would get. Eventually he decided to try. Concealing his dog collar under a white scarf, he rode off on his Triumph Speed Twin. Father Shergold’s recollection of the trip shows the terror which the Biker Boys instilled.

“Just past Staples Corner about a dozen bikes, ridden by sinister figures in black leathers, roared past in the opposite direction. I felt sick with fear. By the time I reached the bridges at Stonebridge Park I was in such a panic I opened the throttle and fled past the Ace as fast as I could. I realised I was being a coward, so I turned back. Again panic seized me and I went past. Then I turned back again and finally rode into the forecourt. By now, the Ace was practically deserted but I consoled myself that I had at least penetrated into the lions’ den, even if the lions were out on the prowl.”

Father Shergold returned a few weeks later, armed with leaflets and making no attempt to hide his dog collar. “It was packed. Hundreds of boys were milling around, laughing and talking. I thought, ‘This is it. I shall almost certainly lose my trousers or land up in the canal’.”

But there was no need to worry about getting a ritual dunking. Father Shergold was treated with every courtesy and was amazed at the positive reaction he got when he invited the bikers to attend a special service specifically for bikers at his church the following evening. Father Shergold arranged to have various bikes on display in the church itself and, incredibly, some bikers even wheeled their machines into the church to be blessed!

The service was packed, and the incongruous sight of dangerous, law-breaking bikers attending church proved irresistible to the media. “In my address I compared the motorcyclist to the knights of old,” said Shergold later, “and suggested we should try to uphold the same ideals of courage, courtesy and chivalry.”

The following day, Father Shergold’s service was all over the television news, and headlines in the national press proclaimed ‘Ton-Up Bikes Blessed’, ‘Ton-Up Kids in Church’ and ‘Pictures of 100mph Gang that may cause a Storm.’

Impressed by the turnout, Father Shergold realised the Bike Boys needed a place where they could hang out and socialise. Father Shergold had already been involved with a church-run youth club called The 59 Club, which had been founded by the Reverend John Oates. It was opened in 1959 by Cliff Richard and Princess Margaret, and Cliff and The Shadows (who had just hit it big with the single Move It) played at the opening night.

The club was based at the Eton Mission in Hackney Wick and Father Shergold thought it would be an ideal place for his Bike Boys to hang out. In October 1962, the first bikers night was held and attended by around 100 riders. Things just grew from there. The Bike Boys kept the name of the youth club even though theirs was a separate venture. Within a few years they would make the name famous the world over. The 59 Club grew into the biggest bike club in the world with more than 11,000 members, and the club’s roundel badge with the number ’59′ in the centre became the envy of bikers everywhere.

It was in the same year of that first meeting – 1962 – that Father Shergold brought in another priest, Father Graham Hullett, to help him run the club. Soon there were so many members that new premises had to be found and the club moved its HQ to Paddington in central London. Father Graham also rode a bike and he too saw something in the bikers that the rest of society failed – or refused – to see. “These were the same kind of lads who would have been flying Spitfires or bombers in defence of their country 20 years earlier,” he says now. “Other members of the church thought myself and Father Shergold were very brave, but we weren’t really – we were just mixing with people who rode bikes. Being a biker myself, I saw these lads as being just as good as anyone else. They had a different way of life but they were just as good as the rest of mankind.”

Father Hullett soon became heavily involved in the club, and gained a reputation as a man who would do anything to help those in trouble. He used his own money to bail wayward members out of jail, he broke up fights and smoothed nasty situations over, and even loaned his own money so that 59ers who were broke could take part in the annual pilgrimage to the Isle of Man TT races. One member who remembers his kindness is Len Paterson who, as a 17-year-old, was a self-confessed delinquent who was heading for a long stretch in prison before the 59 Club saved him.

Even before he gained his bike licence, Paterson had black marks against him. “I started riding at 14 and had my first endorsements before I got my licence,” he remembers. Paterson was unemployed when Father Hullett discovered he was so broke he couldn’t join his fellow club members at the TT. Hullett loaned him the equivalent of two weeks wages to go to the races. “I had a fantastic time at the TT,” says Paterson, “and I’ve been eternally grateful to Father Graham for the chance to go. He was a rock and he was one of us. Although he wore a dog collar, he was really approachable and he never once talked about God or religion to me – he seemed happier talking about bikes.”

It took him two years, but Paterson paid back every penny. He also remembers Father Hullett helping him out of a more desperate situation. When one club fight got out of hand and ended up with Paterson severing another man’s jugular, Father Hullett again came to the rescue. “The guy was lying on the floor with a fountain of blood spouting out of his neck,” recalls Paterson.” I thought I’d killed him. But Father Paterson somehow sorted it all out, the guy survived and it didn’t go to court. I had already been nicked for threatening behaviour and actual bodily harm and had that gone to court my life would have been totally different. I was a yob and would have ended up in prison had it not been for Father Graham.’ There were other times when Father Hullett faced down violence. He once tried to stop a member of The Road Rats biker gang coming into the club with a shotgun, breaking the gun-toting biker’s fingers as he pushed him back. “The Road Rats were a good group,” Hullett says, “but our club had a policy of only letting in real bikers or pillions. The Road Rats were mainly bikers but they had a lot of hangers on. I used to stand at the door and let in the genuine bikers while refusing entry to others. I got nervous because I knew some of them had shotguns. One time a biker I knew well shot and killed another biker on Chelsea Bridge. I was pretty nervous most nights.”

Where did all the Rockers go?

The ‘Bike Boys’ or ‘Rockers’ of the 60s rode the most powerful sports bikes of their time, wore leather jackets, went to race meetings and hung around in cafés. Sound familiar? Rockers didn’t really fade away, they simply evolved.

Today’s sports bikes may be R1s, Blades and GSX-Rs, not Nortons or Triumphs, but most owners still add race exhausts or rearsets, just as the original ton-up boys added clip-ons and racing screens. The leather jacket has evolved into the one- or two-piece suit and, while the annual pilgrimage to the Isle of Man TT is still a must for many, today’s Bike Boys are just as likely to head to Brands for WSB or Donington Park to watch MotoGP. The Ace Café, original haunt of the Rockers, is still in existence, but most riders still know a café where they meet for a Sunday run. Then, as now, a large section of the public think bikers are noisy, no-good hooligans – no change there, then…

In essence, little has changed. While there’s no longer such a link between rock’n'roll and biking, you’re still more likely to find hard rock bands playing at bike meets, not Westlife. Most riders of modern sports bikes can trace their ancestry back to the Bike Boys of the 1960s. The desire for freedom is still there, the thrill of chasing the magic ton has perhaps been replaced by the buzz of a track day, but the rebel image has not completely disappeared. Strangely, no-one referred to those pioneering bad boys as ‘Bikers’ – it was always ‘Bike Boys’, ‘Rockers’, ‘Leather Boys’ or ‘Ton-up Boys’.

Today, we are known as ‘bikers’ but then what’s in a name? The spirit of those 60s rebels who found the true meaning of life in a powerful motorcycle lives on in all of us.

And that’s something to be proud of.
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SHARE THIS VID AND LETS HELP FIND THIS FILTHY SCUM OF THE EARTH GOOF!!!!! Ooooh if i could have a few minutes alone with him in a room boy!!!! To ALL the woman beaters out there, you are LOSERS AND I CANT STAND THE THOUGHT OF YOU! I would wipe you out off this planet if i could.
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LUNCH BREAK! An emotional 911 call & eye-witness testimony. Here's what happened this morning during #ZimmermanTrial http://bit.ly/19tmZL9
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So Travis and I watched Movie 43 with Zach Leonard and Chelsea Delgado the other night, and all I have to say is Beezle the cat will forever haunt my dreams.
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note: when we post a story,its almost selected from like 1 out of 10...and every posted confessions,reaches minimum average 50000 people.
this page has already made place in 6 popular websites.

so we tryiing to improve this page,but if you read stories and leave them without giving response..Sooner or later fb will stop showing you page details.Either admins loose interest to share scary places.
so add this page into your favorites from the top right tab,the next one to the Like tab,so that you dont miss anything..

we will hit 2 lakh in next month :) thnku so much for your love.
thanx for making it india`s biggest Paranormal page..... :)
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Don't Go

♪ I was raised in the valley
There was shadows of death
Got out alive but with scars I can't forget

This kid back at school
Subdued and shy
An orphan and a brother and unseen by most eyes.

I don't know what it was that made a piece of him die
took a boy to the forest, slaughtered him with a scythe.

Stamped on his face, an impression in the dirt.
Do you think the silence makes a good man convert?

We all have our horrors and our demons to fight.
But how can I win, when I'm paralyzed?

They crawl up on my bed, wrap their fingers round my throat.
Is this what I get for the choices that I made?

God forgive me for all my sins
God forgive me for everything
God forgive me for all my sins
God forgive me
God forgive me

Don't go
I can't do this on my own
Don't go
No I can't do this on my own

Save me from the ones that haunt me in the night.
I can't live with myself, so stay with me tonight.

Don't go
Don't go

If I let you in
You'll just want out
If I tell you the truth
You'll fight for a lie
If I spilt my guts
it would make a mess we can't clean up.

If you follow me
you will only get lost.
If you try to get closer
We'll only lose touch
But you already know too much
And you're not going anywhere

Tell me that you need me cause I love you so much
Tell me that you love me cause I need you so much
Tell me that you need me cause I love you so much
Say you'll never leave me cause I need you so much

Don't go
I can't do this on my own
Don't go
No I can't do this on my own
Save me from the ones
that haunt me in the night.
I can't live with myself.
So stay with me tonight

Don't go
I can't do this on my own
Don't go
Save me from the worst
And hold me in the night
I can't live with myself
So stay with me tonight

Don't go

Don't go
Don't go
Don't go
Don't go

Don't go
Don't go
Don't go
Don't go

Don't go
Don't go
Don't go ♪

http://youtu.be/_NFzDSudw10
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Your hands are cruel careful ... pale ...
To Haunt, to Haunt forever at Night
Axe Ov Perun
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GloZell's Dead Sea Challenge - I had fun visiting the Holy Land - GloZell
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"What do you see when you're in the dark and the demons come?"
"I see you. I see you standing over the grave of another dead president"

I see angels above me
Demons below me
Fighting over heaven, heaven, heaven
It's real

America's nightmare; young, black, and just don't give a fuck
Run up in the courtroom and wet 'em up
Got nothing to lose but my handcuffs
Every man must choose to lay down or stand up
It's war time, everything is fair, no fear
When they say the homie murdered the judge, I don't care
Fuck 'em, he deserved it, long as the homie get away
And don't get caught for the crime, I encourage it
We rootin' for the villain in black
Pourin' out Absolut, salute, niggas is shootin' back
In self defense we bang the pistol like
Larry Davis or Brian Nichols
Every pig, every public official, the boomerang
Is coming back to get you, you reap what you sow
The system you created created a monster
And now you scared cause it's coming back to haunt you

I see angels above me
Demons below me
Fighting over heaven, heaven, heaven
It's real.

Since we gonna take the blame, I'm a rep my name to get my aim right
Let's have an overthrow and after party in the same night
Same height as Huey, same muscle build as Malcolm
With the same circumstances in the hood, you know the outcome
And read it in the news about your sergeant and your captain
Don't take this as a warning, just another nigga rappin'
Fuck the way we organizing, fuck the training and the grapplin'
And fuck them Uncle Toms who call police because we smack them
And fuck you sympathizers with your middle class reactions
Cause we bangin' on the system, G'd up, fuck the factions
And if you didn't know, the G was for George Jackson
And long live his warrior spirit packin' the Magnum
Watching over the soldiers, knowin' niggas be blackin'
When we really need to be disciplined in our ways and actions
When we get some freedom you niggas can start braggin'
Till then, inside the blood of my eye, you see the dragon.

I see angels above me
Demons below me
Fighting over heaven, heaven, heaven
It's real.

I'm like the birth of baby Mohammed, the movement I started
Can spar with the hardest, the martyr regarded as Spartacus-hearted
It doesn't matter whose missiles can shoot the farthest
When you're a target in an Afghan Tutoberg Forest
Close quarters combat over corrupted elections
Bilderberg is like cancer, it grows an infection
Nepotism is the gold and the conductor's connection
And ignorance is the prison that the people are kept in
The military ain't there for the people's protection
They're just there to protect an investment
That's why people get arrested, electrocuted, molested
Connected streets are infested with those tired of protestin'
Traumatized children grow to guerilla garrisons
9/11 generations pale in comparison
And you will learn a lesson repeated through history
That no matter what you think, occupation is not victory.
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In the early 1990s, we in the leadership of the ANC made a serious error. Our people still paying the price

Ronnie Kasrils
The Guardian, Monday 24 June 2013


South Africa's young people today are known as the Born Free generation. They enjoy the dignity of being born into a democratic society with the right to vote and choose who will govern. But modern South Africa is not a perfect society. Full equality – social and economic – does not exist, and control of the country's wealth remains in the hands of a few, so new challenges and frustrations arise. Veterans of the anti-apartheid struggle like myself are frequently asked whether, in the light of such disappointment, the sacrifice was worth it. While my answer is yes, I must confess to grave misgivings: I believe we should be doing far better.

There have been impressive achievements since the attainment of freedom in 1994: in building houses, crèches, schools, roads and infrastructure; the provision of water and electricity to millions; free education and healthcare; increases in pensions and social grants; financial and banking stability; and slow but steady economic growth (until the 2008 crisis at any rate). These gains, however, have been offset by a breakdown in service delivery, resulting in violent protests by poor and marginalised communities; gross inadequacies and inequities in the education and health sectors; a ferocious rise in unemployment; endemic police brutality and torture; unseemly power struggles within the ruling party that have grown far worse since the ousting of Mbeki in 2008; an alarming tendency to secrecy and authoritarianism in government; the meddling with the judiciary; and threats to the media and freedom of expression. Even Nelson Mandela's privacy and dignity are violated for the sake of a cheap photo opportunity by the ANC's top echelon.

Most shameful and shocking of all, the events of Bloody Thursday – 16 August 2012 – when police massacred 34 striking miners at Marikana mine, owned by the London-based Lonmin company. The Sharpeville massacre in 1960 prompted me to join the ANC. I found Marikana even more distressing: a democratic South Africa was meant to bring an end to such barbarity. And yet the president and his ministers, locked into a culture of cover-up. Incredibly, the South African Communist party, my party of over 50 years, did not condemn the police either.

South Africa's liberation struggle reached a high point but not its zenith when we overcame apartheid rule. Back then, our hopes were high for our country given its modern industrial economy, strategic mineral resources (not only gold and diamonds), and a working class and organised trade union movement with a rich tradition of struggle. But that optimism overlooked the tenacity of the international capitalist system. From 1991 to 1996 the battle for the ANC's soul got under way, and was eventually lost to corporate power: we were entrapped by the neoliberal economy – or, as some today cry out, we "sold our people down the river".

What I call our Faustian moment came when we took an IMF loan on the eve of our first democratic election. That loan, with strings attached that precluded a radical economic agenda, was considered a necessary evil, as were concessions to keep negotiations on track and take delivery of the promised land for our people. Doubt had come to reign supreme: we believed, wrongly, there was no other option; that we had to be cautious, since by 1991 our once powerful ally, the Soviet union, bankrupted by the arms race, had collapsed. Inexcusably, we had lost faith in the ability of our own revolutionary masses to overcome all obstacles. Whatever the threats to isolate a radicalising South Africa, the world could not have done without our vast reserves of minerals. To lose our nerve was not necessary or inevitable. The ANC leadership needed to remain determined, united and free of corruption – and, above all, to hold on to its revolutionary will. Instead, we chickened out. The ANC leadership needed to remain true to its commitment of serving the people. This would have given it the hegemony it required not only over the entrenched capitalist class but over emergent elitists, many of whom would seek wealth through black economic empowerment, corrupt practices and selling political influence.

To break apartheid rule through negotiation, rather than a bloody civil war, seemed then an option too good to be ignored. However, at that time, the balance of power was with the ANC, and conditions were favourable for more radical change at the negotiating table than we ultimately accepted. It is by no means certain that the old order, apart from isolated rightist extremists, had the will or capability to resort to the bloody repression envisaged by Mandela's leadership. If we had held our nerve, we could have pressed forward without making the concessions we did.

It was a dire error on my part to focus on my own responsibilities and leave the economic issues to the ANC's experts. However, at the time, most of us never quite knew what was happening with the top-level economic discussions. As s Sampie Terreblanche has revealed in his critique, Lost in Transformation, by late 1993 big business strategies – hatched in 1991 at the mining mogul Harry Oppenheimer's Johannesburg residence – were crystallising in secret late-night discussions at the Development Bank of South Africa. Present were South Africa's mineral and energy leaders, the bosses of US and British companies with a presence in South Africa – and young ANC economists schooled in western economics. They were reporting to Mandela, and were either outwitted or frightened into submission by hints of the dire consequences for South Africa should an ANC government prevail with what were considered ruinous economic policies.

All means to eradicate poverty, which was Mandela's and the ANC's sworn promise to the "poorest of the poor", were lost in the process. Nationalisation of the mines and heights of the economy as envisaged by the Freedom charter was abandoned. The ANC accepted responsibility for a vast apartheid-era debt, which should have been cancelled. A wealth tax on the super-rich to fund developmental projects was set aside, and domestic and international corporations, enriched by apartheid, were excused from any financial reparations. Extremely tight budgetary obligations were instituted that would tie the hands of any future governments; obligations to implement a free-trade policy and abolish all forms of tariff protection in keeping with neo-liberal free trade fundamentals were accepted. Big corporations were allowed to shift their main listings abroad. In Terreblanche's opinion, these ANC concessions constituted "treacherous decisions that [will] haunt South Africa for generations to come".

An ANC-Communist party leadership eager to assume political office (myself no less than others) readily accepted this devil's pact, only to be damned in the process. It has bequeathed an economy so tied in to the neoliberal global formula and market fundamentalism that there is very little room to alleviate the plight of most of our people.

Little wonder that their patience is running out; that their anguished protests increase as they wrestle with deteriorating conditions of life; that those in power have no solutions. The scraps are left go to the emergent black elite; corruption has taken root as the greedy and ambitious fight like dogs over a bone.

In South Africa in 2008 the poorest 50% received only 7.8% of total income. While 83% of white South Africans were among the top 20% of income receivers in 2008, only 11% of our black population were. These statistics conceal unmitigated human suffering. Little wonder that the country has seen such an enormous rise in civil protest.

A descent into darkness must be curtailed. I do not believe the ANC alliance is beyond hope. There are countless good people in the ranks. But a revitalisation and renewal from top to bottom is urgently required. The ANC's soul needs to be restored; its traditional values and culture of service reinstated. The pact with the devil needs to be broken.

At present the impoverished majority do not see any hope other than the ruling party, although the ANC's ability to hold those allegiances is deteriorating. The effective parliamentary opposition reflects big business interests of various stripes, and while a strong parliamentary opposition is vital to keep the ANC on its toes, most voters want socialist policies, not measures inclined to serve big business interests, more privatisation and neoliberal economics.

This does not mean it is only up to the ANC, SACP and Cosatu to rescue the country from crises. There are countless patriots and comrades in existing and emerging organised formations who are vital to the process. Then there are the legal avenues and institutions such as the public protector's office and human rights commission that – including the ultimate appeal to the constitutional court – can test, expose and challenge injustice and the infringement of rights. The strategies and tactics of the grassroots – trade unions, civic and community organisations, women's and youth groups – signpost the way ahead with their non-violent and dignified but militant action.

The space and freedom to express one's views, won through decades of struggle, are available and need to be developed. We look to the Born Frees as the future torchbearers.

• This is an edited extract from the new introduction to his autobiography, Armed and Dangerous



http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2013/jun/24/anc-faustian-pact-mandela-fatal-error
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自己認為最適合讀書的時間是清晨與夜晚。而思緒與文字的內蘊交融時,聽Massenet的歌劇Thais中的這段"Meditation"都會有種難以言喻的情懷(若聽了沒有感覺,可以肯定的是自己必定只是在接收資訊而已,就宛如走在街道上時視覺與聽覺會無法拒絕地接收的雜多資訊。還好這種丟失已經好幾個月的感覺最近逐漸回來了),或許可以用John Milton的"Il Penseroso"中的幾句文字來暗示這無名的狀態:

Find out the peacefull hermitage,
The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell 170
Of every Star that Heav'n doth shew,
And every Herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To somthing like Prophetic strain.
These pleasures Melancholy give, 175
And I with thee will choose to live.

覓尋了靜謐的隱密
粗毛長袍與覆上青苔的小室
我能坐靜於此,真確地理解
蒼穹鋪蓋著繁星
與,每株綴飲著露水的芳草
直至,亙古的遺緒達致
某物,好似預言詩歌
這些喜悅因鬱思賦予
我願伴隨妳,寄旅生涯

「詩歌停下腳步,告訴我們,沒有什麼停下腳步--沒有什麼停下腳步,這是這使詩歌停下腳步」(《策蘭傳》,頁171)。

-------------------------------------
Il Penseroso , by John Milton

HENCE vain deluding joyes,
The brood of folly without father bred,
How little you bested,
Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toyes;
Dwell in som idle brain, 5
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess,
As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams,
Or likest hovering dreams
The fickle Pensioners of Morpheus train. 10
But hail thou Goddes, sage and holy,
Hail divinest Melancholy,
Whose Saintly visage is too bright
To hit the Sense of human sight;
And therfore to our weaker view, 15
Ore laid with black staid Wisdoms hue.
Black, but such as in esteem,
Prince Memnons sister might beseem,
Or that Starr'd Ethiope Queen that strove
To set her beauties praise above 20
The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended.
Yet thou art higher far descended,
Thee bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore,
To solitary Saturn bore;
His daughter she (in Saturns raign, 25
Such mixture was not held a stain)
Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. 30
Com pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, stedfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestick train,
And sable stole of Cipres Lawn, 35
Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Com, but keep thy wonted state,
With eev'n step, and musing gate,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: 40
There held in holy passion still,
Forget thy self to Marble, till
With a sad Leaden downward cast,
Thou fix them on the earth as fast.
And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, 45
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,
And hears the Muses in a ring,
Ay round about Joves Altar sing.
And adde to these retirèd Leasure,
That in trim Gardens takes his pleasure; 50
But first, and chiefest, with thee bring,
Him that yon soars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne,
The Cherub Contemplation,
And the mute Silence hist along, 55
'Less Philomel will daign a Song,
In her sweetest, saddest plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke,
Gently o're th'accustom'd Oke; 60
Sweet Bird that shunn'st the noise of folly,
Most musicall, most melancholy!
Thee Chauntress oft the Woods among,
I woo to hear thy eeven-Song;
And missing thee, I walk unseen 65
On the dry smooth-shaven Green.
To behold the wandring Moon,
Riding neer her highest noon,
Like one that had bin led astray
Through the Heav'ns wide pathles way; 70
And oft, as if her head she bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft on a Plat of rising ground,
I hear the far-off Curfeu sound,
Over som wide-water'd shoar, 75
Swinging slow with sullen roar;
Or if the Ayr will not permit,
Som still removèd place will fit,
Where glowing Embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 80
Far from all resort of mirth,
Save the Cricket on the hearth,
Or the Belmans drousie charm,
To bless the dores from nightly harm:
Or let my Lamp at midnight hour, 85
Be seen in som high lonely Towr,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear
The spirit of Plato to unfold
What Worlds, or what vast Regions hold 90
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her mansion in this fleshly nook:
And of those Dæmons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true consent 95
With Planet, or with Element.
Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy
In Scepter'd Pall com sweeping by,
Presenting Thebs, or Pelops line,
Or the tale of Troy divine. 100
Or what (though rare) of later age,
Ennoblèd hath the Buskind stage.
But, O sad Virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musæus from his bower
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 105
Such notes as warbled to the string,
Drew Iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made Hell grant what Love did seek.
Or call up him that left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold, 110
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the vertuous Ring and Glass,
And of the wondrous Hors of Brass,
On which the Tartar King did ride; 115
And if ought els, great Bards beside,
In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
Of Turneys and of Trophies hung;
Of Forests, and inchantments drear,
Where more is meant then meets the ear. 120
Thus night oft see me in thy pale career,
Till civil-suited Morn appeer,
Not trickt and frounc't as she was wont,
With the Attick Boy to hunt,
But Cherchef't in a comly Cloud, 125
While rocking Winds are Piping loud,
Or usher'd with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the russling Leaves,
With minute drops from off the Eaves. 130
And when the Sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me Goddes bring
To archèd walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves,
Of Pine, or monumental Oake, 135
Where the rude Ax with heavèd stroke,
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
There in close covert by som Brook,
Where no profaner eye may look, 140
Hide me from Day's garish eie,
While the Bee with Honied thie,
That at her flowry work doth sing,
And the Waters murmuring
With such consort as they keep, 145
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep;
And let som strange mysterious dream,
Wave at his Wings in Airy stream,
Of lively portrature display'd,
Softly on my eye-lids laid. 150
And as I wake, sweet musick breath
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by som spirit to mortals good,
Or th'unseen Genius of the Wood.
But let my due feet never fail, 155
To walk the studious Cloysters pale,
And love the high embowèd Roof,
With antick Pillars massy proof,
And storied Windows richly dight,
Casting a dimm religious light. 160
There let the pealing Organ blow,
To the full voic'd Quire below,
In Service high, and Anthems cleer,
As may with sweetnes, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into extasies, 165
And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peacefull hermitage,
The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell 170
Of every Star that Heav'n doth shew,
And every Herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To somthing like Prophetic strain.
These pleasures Melancholy give, 175
And I with thee will choose to live.
watch online Haunted Nights


Hey you know what this day needs? The greatest movie villain of all time! Who is it?! Stop thinking! GO!
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Celebrity chef Paula Deen spoke out on The Today Show this morning in an emotional interview with Matt Lauer. What do you think? Should she be punished for her remarks?
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Man, I need to stop watching those sillly ghost shows. Last night I had the third ghost dream in 3 weeks.
watch online Haunted Nights


Had a terrible gallbladder attack last night.....but I had my gallbladder removed 10 years ago! What's up with that?
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Chapter 7 - Reminiscing

Khushi had realized that at the end of the day, NK was what she wanted, what she needed. She couldn’t forget her first love Arnav, but she was willing to spend the rest of her life trying, just for NK. She smiled while remembering her first meeting with NK.



Flashback*

January 2007



It was a cold winter day in Montreal, and Khushi was late for class. She quickly grabbed her things from her dorm and literally ran to campus dressed in her winter jacket, a white tuque, mittens and matching scarf, her books in one hand and her coffee flask in another. Her skin was pale and her cheeks and lips rosy, due to the cold. The snow started falling gently while she was rushing to class. Suddenly she clashed into a manly figure while her books and papers fell to the ground.



“Oh my god, I am so sorry! Are you okay? I’m just really late for class and I was running’well kinda. And then it started to snow, and it’s just so crowded here that I didn’t see you” she said in a rush.



While she was talking non-stop, she didn’t notice him admiring how beautiful she was. Pink cheeks, creamy skin, long brown wavy hair, with snowflakes caught in her long eyelashes.



“I’m really really sorry; I hope you’re not hurt? Oh my goodness, did I spill my coffee on you? I can totally pay for dry clean-”she said nervously, not even paying attention herself to what she was blabbering.



“Woah woah, slow down there beauty!” he said in between laughing.



She couldn’t help but admit how handsome he was. Light skin, dark brown eyes framed with long dark lashes, a perfect smile and a cute dimple on his chin. Dressed in jeans, and a light winter jacket, she noticed how fashionable he was. She didn’t remember the last time she saw someone look so beautiful, and freely laugh like he was at the moment.



“You’re laughing…at me” she said confused. But he just kept laughing. Suddenly annoyed, she bent down to pick up her books and papers, and when he finally controlled his laughter, he helped her pick up her things as well.



“I’m sorry, it’s just, a girl has never bumped into me and apologized like that, ever in my life! I usually get the opposite reaction, especially since I was the one who bumped into you. So I guess I should be saying sorry” he said with a warm smile.



“Sorry, and no you did not spill coffee on me, although I kind of wish you did!” he replied grinning.



“Wait, what?” she asked incredulously.



“Here, you missed a book” he said picking up her copy of A Thousand Splendid Suns.



“Oh…thanks” she replied.



“One of my personal favourites! The way the author writes from the point of view of a woman’just wow! He’s a great author” he said. “Have you read The Kite Runner? It’s another sad one, but really good!”



“ You’ve read this? And the Kite Runner…?” she asked shocked.



“I know, I know, it’s hard to believe that someone as sexy and cool as me reads those types of books. But some of us do, it’s just a common stereotype!” he winked at her.



She stifled a giggle from coming out of her mouth. So he was one of those guys. Cocky, and quite flirty.



“Uhmm okay…well anyways, I’m late for class so I better run. Thanks for helping me with my books, and sorry again for bumping into you” she said while turning on her heels and heading in the opposite direction.



“Wait! What’s your name?” he yelled after her.



“Well it’s not Beauty, if that’s what you thought!” she yelled back laughing. Laughing? She was actually laughing! She couldn’t remember the last time she smiled, let alone laughed. ‘That guy was some character!’ she though to herself. ‘Now why is it that I’m hoping to see him again?’ she asked herself confused…



She didn’t notice when he grinned, and ran after her. “Wait!” he called out, but she was long gone. He realized he was still holding her book as he had forgotten to hand it back to her. He opened the cover and written in almost perfect handwriting was



Khushi Kumari Gupta



“Well well NK, looks like you’re done for. Who would have thought, NK Raizada, the biggest flirt on campus, falling for a girl he had just met and talked to for literally a minute!” he muttered to himself shaking his head and smiling happily. “Until we meet again, Khushi” he said while raking his hands through his hair and grinning, while turning in the opposite direction clutching her book close to his heart.



Flashback Over*



She left the house for her meeting soon after, still smiling to herself as she thought about NK.





Arnav had slept soundlessly for the first time in years. He didn’t have any nightmares of Khushi crying which meant that he didn’t wake up in tears like he usually did. He knew he was being selfish, but he loved Khushi and they both needed each other in life. Maybe he had acted stupidly last night, trying to kiss her and forcing her to bring out her true emotions, but when it came to Khushi, he couldn’t control anything. She thought that he never visited her, or tried to call or find her, but in reality it wasn’t one hundred percent true. He did try, as much as he could.



Flashback*



May 2007



First year of University was finished. Arnav had successfully completed a year of studies and was on his way to become a very successful business man. They say that behind every successful man is woman, and in his case that woman was Khushi. No, she wasn’t with him physically but he still saw her everywhere he went. The city that he lived in reminded him of her. Before taking any sort of decision, he always thought of her, and thought of what she would tell him to do. He kept going in life only because of the love that she gave him. The love that he had never felt from anyone else, no one had made him feel so special in his life. Of course his family loved him a lot, especially his Di who was always showering him with love, but this was completely different. He had always felt pure around her; she never let him feel any sort of bad feeling. Whenever he was upset, she would cheer him up, and the most amazing part was that she never expected anything in return from him. She was always giving, and never taking. The relationship ‘ although it had no real name ‘ that they shared was so natural. He heard her laugh, heard her voice and yearned to see her smile, but unfortunately that was not possible. He fought back the tears in his eyes that appeared every time he thought of her. But he didn’t deserve her, she was right. The only difference between their thought was that she thought he was too good for her, when in reality she was too good for him.



He had traced her location in Montreal and had gotten hold of her number- a number which he called several times yet he never got to speak to her. He dialed her number and tried again for the umpteenth time.



“Hello, Khushi?” asked Arnav.



“Hai re Nankisore. Will you never get the point? You have been calling this number every week for the last god knows how many months! You will not talk to Khushi, I’m sorry son. You rejected her, and you hurt her. She was completely broken and you coming back into her life will only ruin her even more because she cannot handle her heart breaking again” said Buaji in a serious and firm tone.



“But I love her, I won’t break her heart! It was a stupid mistake, I promise Buaji, you’ve known me since I was a kid and you know I always cared for Khushi. You know that, don’t you?”



“I’m sorry Arnav Bitua; I’m only doing this for the best. She’s finally moving on from her parents’ death, and I can’t risk her getting hurt again. Please, I know that you’re a good person but you left her shattered. So you need to move on, and let her move on as well”



“Will you at least give her the letters I’ve been sending almost everyday for the past year Buaji? Please, you can’t do this! I know I was stupid but you have to understand that I’ve changed!” he exclaimed.



“I’m sorry son, I love Khushi too much and I wouldn’t be able to take it if she got hurt again. If It’s meant to be and she somehow enters your life on her own accord, then I give you my entire permission to take your chance with her, but until then please let her go. If you truly love her, you will leave her alone. Goodbye Bitua, and please stop calling and stop writing letters – for her sake”



“Wait! Please just-”he began but was cut off by the dial tone.



She had asked him to stop for her sake, if he truly loved her. Of course he did, and if this was some sort of test that life was playing with him, he would ace the test gladly even if it meant staying away from her. He had never believed in God, well at least not before he had lost her. After he had realized how life had played an ugly game with him, and how idiotic he had been to not see the love he had right in front of his eyes, he realized that he could do nothing but pray for Khushi to come back to him. And that was exactly what he would do, because God would not let two soul mates live without each other for too long. He would wait just like Buaji said; he knew she would come to him someday, fate would bring them together. And he would wait, even if he had to wait for the rest of his life.



Flashback Over*



Yesterday, his dream had come true. He had waited for three long years to see her face. And she had come back into his life, although it was not under the most ideal circumstances, she was still there, right in front of his eyes. Arnav wanted to tell her that he had tried on several occasions to get a hold of her, but he didn’t want to get Buaji in trouble, knowing that she was only doing what she thought best for her niece. But he did wish she had given him a chance, maybe today instead of NK bringing her over for dinner with the family, Arnav would be able to. He wanted to do all of those things with her, he wanted to carry her on his arm and show her off to the world. Show everyone that she was his. Instead, he couldn’t because he was helpless. But that never stopped Arnav Singh Raizada from trying.



He thought of the irony behind all of this, the very same advice NK had once given him was coming back to haunt him today.



Flashback*



March 2008



Arnav was visiting Montreal on his spring break and was staying over at NK’s after he had begged that they spend some brotherly quality time together. It was Arnav’s second year, and NK’s third. Arnav had never been very close with NK. Of course he loved his brother, but there was always something that didn’t click between them. If either of them thought so, they never showed it.



Arnav had settled down in NK’s dorm and was staring out the window looking staring at the view of Montreal. It was a beautiful city, although small but very homely. It made him feel sick knowing that he was in the same city as Khushi but he couldn’t see her face. Of course, he was always hoping that he would somehow bump into her somewhere in this small city, but luck hadn’t favoured him at all.



“Arnav, wanna go out and grab a bite to eat bro?” asked NK as he appeared in the living room.



“It is okay if we stay in here for tonight? I’m feeling kind of tired and a little sick” said Arnav sadly.



“Of course! Why didn’t you say so before? What’s wrong, is everything okay?” asked NK worriedly.



“Have you ever been in love?” asked Arnav.



“Whoa, what? Arnav Singh Raizada is asking me about love? Now I know that there’s definitely something going on!” said NK with a raised eyebrow.



“Ugh, never mind NK, you never take me seriously. Plus, its no use asking you, you’re the biggest flirt I know, you’ve probably never experienced love anyways” said Arnav exasperatedly.



“Um, hello! Just because I’m a flirt doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced love. Assumption is the mother of all screw-up’s” said NK with a wink.



“So…you have experienced it?” asked Arnav curiously.



“Yes, I think so” said NK.

“What happened?” asked Arnav.



“Okay just promise not to judge me. Trust me, I didn’t believe in this until it actually happened to me, but it was kind of like love at first sight for me. I just saw her, and knew she was the one” said NK looking into the distance.



Arnav suddenly recalled his first day of school and watching a five year old Khushi from a distance as she played tag with her friends. Her hair was in two braids, wearing a bright red dress, laughing carelessly. Running around, smiling, and all he could think, even at the mere age of 5, was that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.



“That’s when you know its true love” Arnav said more to himself than to NK.



“Wait, what?? Why are you talking as if you’ve experienced it?” asked NK curiously sitting down beside him on the sofa.



“Maybe I have. But that’s not the point right now” said Arnav waving a dismissing hand.



“Look, I know that we’re not the closest cousins in the world, but you can tell me about this stuff you know” NK said encouragingly.



Arnav drew in a deep breath and started his story. He told NK everything, leaving out her name and any specific details about her, from the first day of school, to all the memories he had of her throughout their school days, middle school days and then high school days. Even the memories he had of her outside the school, whenever he would secretly keep an eye out for her. He told NK about his stupid ego, and how he never wanted to love after watching his own parents’ marriage fall apart. He knew it was stupid, and would only lead to pain. He told NK how he left her, and then how she left him. And then he finally told NK about how Buaji had asked him to leave her alone if he really loved her.



“So here I am today. A total mess isn’t it?” Arnav said shaking his head.



“WOW…I never knew that THE Arnav Singh Raizada had such a past” NK said in a daze.



“Are you gonna help me or not NK?” asked Arnav annoyed.



“Oh, right sorry. OK, look. Normally, being the flirt that I am, I would say that you should go for it, and forget about what her aunt said. But actually, I think she might be right. I’m only saying this because one of my friend’s was in a similar situation as the girl you’re talking about. She was rejected, lost everything and moved here in a horrible state. And I know that if that guy from her past were to come back in her life today, it would only bring back all those horrible memories associated with him. My friend moved here with the sole purpose of moving on, and if this guy she loved came back all of a sudden, I think she would be in a really bad state” said NK seriously.



“So you think I should just leave it up to fate? What if she never comes back into my life NK? What am I to do then?” asked Arnav.



“Well then maybe it’s not meant to be Arnav” said NK.



“I guess you’re right. I know it’s meant to be, so she’ll definitely come back to me, and until then I’ll wait” said Arnav determinedly.



“That’s the spirit brother! Stay positive, things will work out for the better” said NK while patting Arnav on the back.



“Thanks NK, really it means a lot to me. And you gave some good advice, it looks like you’ve put a lot of thought into the situation of your friend’wait a minute. This isn’t the same friend…you aren’t talking about’she’s the one you have feelings for, isn’t it?!”



“No…” NK said trying to avoid the topic.



“Really NK?” asked Arnav with narrowed eyes.



“ OK, fine yes it is. I have feelings for a girl who’s still in love with someone else. Happy now?” said NK sarcastically.



“I’m sorry NK, I didn’t mean to…” Arnav started to say, but NK reassured him quickly.



“Its okay, I know you didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just…it’s a sensitive issue for me. I really like her Arnav. Like A LOT. Okay, who am I kidding, I love her. But she’s so caught up in her past that she doesn’t even notice the love I’m giving her. She’s trying really hard to forget, and I know she’ll get over it one day but that’s not the problem. I’m willing to wait until she’s ready, but what if even then, she doesn’t want to be with me? What if she only thinks of me as her best friend and nothing else?” asked NK worriedly.



“ OK breathe for a second. Look, just like you told me, have faith. Why wouldn’t she like you? You’re a great guy…nice, funny, and intelligent. If she doesn’t feel anything for you even after all the support you’re giving her, then just like you said – maybe it’s not meant to be.



“Thanks Arnav, that’s actually very nice of you” said NK with a warm smile.



“No problem, and thanks to you too” said Arnav smiling back.



Flashback Over*





It was the first time in years that the two brothers had a normal conversation. Even if they didn’t know that they were talking about the exact same person…

Arnav sighed and decided he needed to plan what was to be done about this Khushi situation. He couldn’t lose her again, and he was willing to hurt anyone to get her back.
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...need some suggestions for a new Chinese place in Nashville - just interested in something besides the standard go-to's that I haunt. Other than Golden Coast and China Town (and not counting Pei Wei or PF Chang's), where would you guys recommend? Looking for authentic and SPICY.
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How the ANC's Faustian pact sold out South Africa's poorest

In the early 1990s, we in the leadership of the ANC made a serious error. Our people still paying the price


Ronnie Kasrils
The Guardian, Monday 24 June 2013



South Africa's young people today are known as the Born Free generation. They enjoy the dignity of being born into a democratic society with the right to vote and choose who will govern. But modern South Africa is not a perfect society. Full equality – social and economic – does not exist, and control of the country's wealth remains in the hands of a few, so new challenges and frustrations arise. Veterans of the anti-apartheid struggle like myself are frequently asked whether, in the light of such disappointment, the sacrifice was worth it. While my answer is yes, I must confess to grave misgivings: I believe we should be doing far better.

There have been impressive achievements since the attainment of freedom in 1994: in building houses, crèches, schools, roads and infrastructure; the provision of water and electricity to millions; free education and healthcare; increases in pensions and social grants; financial and banking stability; and slow but steady economic growth (until the 2008 crisis at any rate). These gains, however, have been offset by a breakdown in service delivery, resulting in violent protests by poor and marginalised communities; gross inadequacies and inequities in the education and health sectors; a ferocious rise in unemployment; endemic police brutality and torture; unseemly power struggles within the ruling party that have grown far worse since the ousting of Mbeki in 2008; an alarming tendency to secrecy and authoritarianism in government; the meddling with the judiciary; and threats to the media and freedom of expression. Even Nelson Mandela's privacy and dignity are violated for the sake of a cheap photo opportunity by the ANC's top echelon.

Most shameful and shocking of all, the events of Bloody Thursday – 16 August 2012 – when police massacred 34 striking miners at Marikana mine, owned by the London-based Lonmin company. The Sharpeville massacre in 1960 prompted me to join the ANC. I found Marikana even more distressing: a democratic South Africa was meant to bring an end to such barbarity. And yet the president and his ministers, locked into a culture of cover-up. Incredibly, the South African Communist party, my party of over 50 years, did not condemn the police either.

South Africa's liberation struggle reached a high point but not its zenith when we overcame apartheid rule. Back then, our hopes were high for our country given its modern industrial economy, strategic mineral resources (not only gold and diamonds), and a working class and organised trade union movement with a rich tradition of struggle. But that optimism overlooked the tenacity of the international capitalist system. From 1991 to 1996 the battle for the ANC's soul got under way, and was eventually lost to corporate power: we were entrapped by the neoliberal economy – or, as some today cry out, we "sold our people down the river".

What I call our Faustian moment came when we took an IMF loan on the eve of our first democratic election. That loan, with strings attached that precluded a radical economic agenda, was considered a necessary evil, as were concessions to keep negotiations on track and take delivery of the promised land for our people. Doubt had come to reign supreme: we believed, wrongly, there was no other option; that we had to be cautious, since by 1991 our once powerful ally, the Soviet union, bankrupted by the arms race, had collapsed. Inexcusably, we had lost faith in the ability of our own revolutionary masses to overcome all obstacles. Whatever the threats to isolate a radicalising South Africa, the world could not have done without our vast reserves of minerals. To lose our nerve was not necessary or inevitable. The ANC leadership needed to remain determined, united and free of corruption – and, above all, to hold on to its revolutionary will. Instead, we chickened out. The ANC leadership needed to remain true to its commitment of serving the people. This would have given it the hegemony it required not only over the entrenched capitalist class but over emergent elitists, many of whom would seek wealth through black economic empowerment, corrupt practices and selling political influence.

To break apartheid rule through negotiation, rather than a bloody civil war, seemed then an option too good to be ignored. However, at that time, the balance of power was with the ANC, and conditions were favourable for more radical change at the negotiating table than we ultimately accepted. It is by no means certain that the old order, apart from isolated rightist extremists, had the will or capability to resort to the bloody repression envisaged by Mandela's leadership. If we had held our nerve, we could have pressed forward without making the concessions we did.

It was a dire error on my part to focus on my own responsibilities and leave the economic issues to the ANC's experts. However, at the time, most of us never quite knew what was happening with the top-level economic discussions. As s Sampie Terreblanche has revealed in his critique, Lost in Transformation, by late 1993 big business strategies – hatched in 1991 at the mining mogul Harry Oppenheimer's Johannesburg residence – were crystallising in secret late-night discussions at the Development Bank of South Africa. Present were South Africa's mineral and energy leaders, the bosses of US and British companies with a presence in South Africa – and young ANC economists schooled in western economics. They were reporting to Mandela, and were either outwitted or frightened into submission by hints of the dire consequences for South Africa should an ANC government prevail with what were considered ruinous economic policies.

All means to eradicate poverty, which was Mandela's and the ANC's sworn promise to the "poorest of the poor", were lost in the process. Nationalisation of the mines and heights of the economy as envisaged by the Freedom charter was abandoned. The ANC accepted responsibility for a vast apartheid-era debt, which should have been cancelled. A wealth tax on the super-rich to fund developmental projects was set aside, and domestic and international corporations, enriched by apartheid, were excused from any financial reparations. Extremely tight budgetary obligations were instituted that would tie the hands of any future governments; obligations to implement a free-trade policy and abolish all forms of tariff protection in keeping with neo-liberal free trade fundamentals were accepted. Big corporations were allowed to shift their main listings abroad. In Terreblanche's opinion, these ANC concessions constituted "treacherous decisions that [will] haunt South Africa for generations to come".

An ANC-Communist party leadership eager to assume political office (myself no less than others) readily accepted this devil's pact, only to be damned in the process. It has bequeathed an economy so tied in to the neoliberal global formula and market fundamentalism that there is very little room to alleviate the plight of most of our people.

Little wonder that their patience is running out; that their anguished protests increase as they wrestle with deteriorating conditions of life; that those in power have no solutions. The scraps are left go to the emergent black elite; corruption has taken root as the greedy and ambitious fight like dogs over a bone.

In South Africa in 2008 the poorest 50% received only 7.8% of total income. While 83% of white South Africans were among the top 20% of income receivers in 2008, only 11% of our black population were. These statistics conceal unmitigated human suffering. Little wonder that the country has seen such an enormous rise in civil protest.

A descent into darkness must be curtailed. I do not believe the ANC alliance is beyond hope. There are countless good people in the ranks. But a revitalisation and renewal from top to bottom is urgently required. The ANC's soul needs to be restored; its traditional values and culture of service reinstated. The pact with the devil needs to be broken.

At present the impoverished majority do not see any hope other than the ruling party, although the ANC's ability to hold those allegiances is deteriorating. The effective parliamentary opposition reflects big business interests of various stripes, and while a strong parliamentary opposition is vital to keep the ANC on its toes, most voters want socialist policies, not measures inclined to serve big business interests, more privatisation and neoliberal economics.

This does not mean it is only up to the ANC, SACP and Cosatu to rescue the country from crises. There are countless patriots and comrades in existing and emerging organised formations who are vital to the process. Then there are the legal avenues and institutions such as the public protector's office and human rights commission that – including the ultimate appeal to the constitutional court – can test, expose and challenge injustice and the infringement of rights. The strategies and tactics of the grassroots – trade unions, civic and community organisations, women's and youth groups – signpost the way ahead with their non-violent and dignified but militant action.

The space and freedom to express one's views, won through decades of struggle, are available and need to be developed. We look to the Born Frees as the future torchbearers.

• This is an edited extract from the new introduction to his autobiography, Armed and Dangerous

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2013/jun/24/anc-faustian-pact-mandela-fatal-error
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DIS DEDICATION IS 2 ALL HEARTBROKEN PEOPLE

I have given all my love to you, but what do I get in return?
A broken heart.
I have given you my heart, and you stomp on it like a doormat.
I have given you my youth and you took advantage of my in-experienced heart and played with my emotions.
I gave you all the trust, but you misused it.
I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and you proved everyone right.
I gave you my life and you killed me day by day.
I want to pull my aching heart and tear it piece by piece, So I no longer love you.
I want to loose my memory so I no longer think of you.
I want to go so far so I no longer have to see you.
I want to cry but I no longer have any more tears to fall down
my sad lonely face.
I want to sleep but my dreams haunt me with you in them.
I can’t seem to find a way out. What do I do?
I don’t want anyone to see this not even you.
How do I get out of this?
How do I stop this misery? How do solve this mystery?
I can’t seem to find anyone to make feel the way you do,
The way you look at me,
the way you say my name,
the sound of your voice when you tell me that you care.
I love you so much I think I’m going to die from this pain that haunts day and night.
How can forget you? If the only love I know is you.
How can I move on? If life is not the same with out you.
I want to brake free and move on but I think I’ll be doing something wrong.
I just have to close my eyes and let things fly and let the days pass me by.
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So, had a difficult night. Seems that my past is coming back to haunt me....lesson learned. Better days are ahead no matter what happens. Still thanking Him for each and every day.
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