text:
[Confederate States of America monument on the courthouse lawn in Eastland, Texas]

[Across from the courthouse is the Eastland County Museum and Historical Society building.]

[_Eastland Telegram_ newspaper serves Eastland County.]

EASTLAND COUNTY is a county located in central West Texas. As of the 2010 census, its population was 18,583.[1] The county seat is Eastland.[2] The county was founded in 1858 and later organized in 1873.[3] It is named for William Mosby Eastland, a soldier during the Texas Revolution and the only officer to die as a result of the “Black Bean executions” of the Mier Expedition.

Two Eastland County communities, Cisco and Ranger, have junior colleges.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which are land and (0.6%) are covered by water.[4]

Major highways

-   [] Interstate 20
-   [] U.S. Highway 183
-   [] State Highway 6
-   [] State Highway 16
-   [] State Highway 36
-   [] State Highway 112

Adjacent counties

-   Stephens County (north)
-   Palo Pinto County (northeast)
-   Erath County (east)
-   Comanche County (southeast)
-   Brown County (south)
-   Callahan County (west)
-   Shackelford County (northwest)

Demographics

As of the census[5] of 2000, 18,297 people, 7,321 households, and 5,036 families resided in the county. The population density was 20 people per square mile (8/km²). The 9,547 housing units averaged 10 per square mile (4/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 91.03% White, 2.18% African American, 0.48% Native American, 0.21% Asian, 0.02% Pacific Islander, 4.83% from other races, and 1.25% from two or more races. About 10.80% of the population was Hispanic or Latino of any race.

Of the 7,321 households, 27.70% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 55.40% were married couples living together, 9.50% had a female householder with no husband present, and 31.20% were not families. About 28.6% of all households were made up of individuals, and 16.20% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.39 and the average family size was 2.93.

In the county, the population was distributed as 23.20% under the age of 18, 9.80% from 18 to 24, 22.30% from 25 to 44, 23.90% from 45 to 64, and 20.90% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 41 years. For every 100 females, there were 94.10 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 90.60 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $26,832, and for a family was $33,562. Males had a median income of $25,598 versus $17,112 for females. The per capita income for the county was $14,870. About 12.10% of families and 16.80% of the population were below the poverty line, including 23.10% of those under age 18 and 14.80% of those age 65 or over.

Education

Despite its small population, the county is home to two community colleges – Cisco College and Ranger College, located in their respective towns.

Media

Eastland County is part of the Abilene/Sweetwater/Brownwood television viewing area in west-central Texas. Local news media outlets include KRBC-TV, KTXS-TV, KXVA, and KTAB-TV. In the cities of Eastland, Ranger, and Cisco on Suddenlink Communications Cable Television service, residents can view the Dallas/Fort Worth market stations WFAA-TV and KERA-TV.

Eastland County is also served by four local newspapers: the _Eastland Telegram_, the _Rising Star_, _Ranger Times_, and _Cisco Press_.

Communities

Cities

-   Cisco
-   Eastland (county seat)
-   Gorman
-   Ranger

Towns

-   Carbon
-   Rising Star

Unincorporated communities

-   Kokomo
-   Morton Valley
-   Nimrod
-   Olden
-   Romney

Ghost towns

-   Desdemona
-   Mangum

Politics

  Year                               Republican                                  Democratic                                  Third parties
  ---------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |86.3% _6,011_   style=“text-align:center;” |11.1% _776_     2.5% _176_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |83.8% _5,444_   style=“text-align:center;” |14.9% _970_     1.3% _81_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |79.4% _5,165_   style=“text-align:center;” |19.5% _1,271_   1.1% _73_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |76.6% _5,249_   style=“text-align:center;” |23.1% _1,582_   0.4% _26_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |70.6% _4,531_   style=“text-align:center;” |27.7% _1,774_   1.7% _109_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |49.6% _3,272_   style=“text-align:center;” |39.3% _2,594_   11.1% _730_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |38.9% _2,830_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.6% _2,738_   23.5% _1,713_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |54.8% _3,929_   style=“text-align:center;” |44.9% _3,215_   0.3% _22_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |65.5% _4,841_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.1% _2,522_   0.4% _26_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |50.1% _3,442_   style=“text-align:center;” |48.7% _3,346_   1.3% _89_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |35.0% _2,340_   style=“text-align:center;” |64.5% _4,320_   0.5% _35_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |71.5% _4,106_   style=“text-align:center;” |28.4% _1,630_   0.1% _7_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |38.6% _2,453_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.4% _2,884_   16.0% _1,013_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |30.4% _2,049_   style=“text-align:center;” |69.5% _4,692_   0.2% _11_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |52.1% _3,359_   style=“text-align:center;” |47.4% _3,058_   0.5% _32_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |58.6% _3,580_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.1% _2,512_   0.3% _16_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |57.2% _4,518_   style=“text-align:center;” |42.6% _3,370_   0.2% _18_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |17.7% _1,177_   style=“text-align:center;” |76.8% _5,121_   5.5% _367_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |10.6% _643_     style=“text-align:center;” |75.9% _4,607_   13.5% _822_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |15.4% _1,063_   style=“text-align:center;” |84.5% _5,818_   0.1% _6_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |13.4% _724_     style=“text-align:center;” |86.0% _4,659_   0.7% _35_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |10.8% _598_     style=“text-align:center;” |89.2% _4,958_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |56.4% _3,233_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.6% _2,501_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |17.1% _972_     style=“text-align:center;” |80.0% _4,548_   2.9% _162_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |23.1% _941_     style=“text-align:center;” |72.3% _2,942_   4.6% _186_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |7.5% _146_      style=“text-align:center;” |76.6% _1,486_   15.8% _307_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |4.0% _66_       style=“text-align:center;” |90.5% _1,498_   5.5% _91_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[6]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

title: Eastland County, Texas

question: Summarize the information about the educational institutions in the county.

answer: The county has two community colleges - Cisco College and Ranger College.

question: What is the maximum revenue-generating activity in Eastland county?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: How was the county named?

answer: The county was named after William Mosby Eastland, a soldier during the Texas Revolution and the only officer to die as a result of the "Black Bean executions" of the Mier Expedition.


split: test

text:
PIKE COUNTY is a county located on the southwestern border of the U.S. state of Mississippi. As of the 2010 census, the population was 40,404.[1] The county seat is Magnolia.[2] Pike County is named for explorer Zebulon Pike.

Pike County is part of the McComb, MS Micropolitan Statistical Area.

History

Pike County was formed from Marion County by an act of the Territorial General Assembly on December 9, 1815. Holmesville was selected as the county seat on December 11, 1816; it was named in honor of Major Andrew Hunter Holmes, an army officer killed in the War of 1812. In 1873 Magnolia was voted in as the new county seat.[3] The county was devoted to agriculture and is still mostly rural.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which is land and (0.4%) is water.[4]

Major highways

-   [] Interstate 55
-   [] U.S. Highway 51
-   [] U.S. Highway 98
-   [] Mississippi Highway 24
-   [] Mississippi Highway 44
-   [] Mississippi Highway 48
-   Mississippi Highway 570
-   Mississippi Highway 584

Adjacent counties

-   Lincoln County (north)
-   Walthall County (east)
-   Washington Parish, Louisiana (southeast)
-   Tangipahoa Parish, Louisiana (south)
-   Amite County (west)

Demographics

As of the 2010 United States Census, there were 40,404 people living in the county. 51.5% were Black or African American, 46.4% White, 0.6% Asian, 0.3% Native American, 0.5% of some other race and 0.8% of two or more races. 1.2% were Hispanic or Latino (of any race).

As of the census[5] of 2000, there were 38,940 people, 14,792 households, and 10,502 families living in the county. The population density was 95 people per square mile (37/km²). There were 16,720 housing units at an average density of 41 per square mile (16/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 51.25% White, 47.53% Black or African American, 0.19% Native American, 0.33% Asian, 0.01% Pacific Islander, 0.20% from other races, and 0.50% from two or more races. 0.73% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.

There were 14,792 households, out of which 34.20% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 46.80% were married couples living together, 19.90% had a female householder with no husband present, and 29.00% were non-families. 26.50% of all households were made up of individuals, and 12.00% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.57 and the average family size was 3.12.

In the county, the population was spread out, with 27.70% under the age of 18, 10.10% from 18 to 24, 26.00% from 25 to 44, 22.10% from 45 to 64, and 14.20% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 35 years. For every 100 females, there were 88.00 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 83.20 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $24,562, and the median income for a family was $29,415. Males had a median income of $27,450 versus $17,405 for females. The per capita income for the county was $14,040. About 21.50% of families and 25.30% of the population were below the poverty line, including 35.50% of those under age 18 and 19.70% of those age 65 or over.

Communities

Cities

-   Magnolia (county seat)
-   McComb

Towns

-   Osyka
-   Summit

Unincorporated communities

-   Chatawa
-   Fernwood
-   Holmesville
-   Kirkville
-   Pricedale
-   Progress

Politics

Pike County is a swing county in presidential elections; since 2000 it has voted Democratic thrice and Republican twice.

  Year                               Republican                                  Democratic                                  Third parties
  ---------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |49.0% _8,009_   style=“text-align:center;” |49.2% _8,043_   1.9% _308_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |45.5% _8,181_   style=“text-align:center;” |53.7% _9,650_   0.8% _143_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |47.9% _8,651_   style=“text-align:center;” |51.4% _9,276_   0.7% _128_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |52.1% _8,660_   style=“text-align:center;” |47.4% _7,881_   0.6% _91_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |52.7% _7,464_   style=“text-align:center;” |46.2% _6,544_   1.1% _158_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |43.5% _5,403_   style=“text-align:center;” |50.7% _6,302_   5.9% _730_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |43.9% _6,005_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.9% _6,279_   10.2% _1,395_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |53.6% _7,637_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.9% _6,531_   0.5% _71_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |57.3% _8,254_   style=“text-align:center;” |42.6% _6,137_   0.1% _20_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |48.6% _6,661_   style=“text-align:center;” |48.8% _6,694_   2.6% _361_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |48.2% _5,659_   style=“text-align:center;” |48.9% _5,749_   2.9% _343_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |72.1% _6,542_   style=“text-align:center;” |25.7% _2,332_   2.2% _202_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |14.4% _1,460_   style=“text-align:center;” |28.1% _2,848_   57.6% _5,846_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |92.2% _6,418_   style=“text-align:center;” |7.8% _543_      style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |27.4% _1,467_   style=“text-align:center;” |23.5% _1,258_   49.1% _2,632_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |29.5% _1,210_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.7% _1,714_   28.8% _1,182_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |53.8% _2,908_   style=“text-align:center;” |46.2% _2,495_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |1.8% _69_       style=“text-align:center;” |5.6% _221_      92.6% _3,650_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |7.7% _248_      style=“text-align:center;” |92.3% _2,972_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |5.9% _185_      style=“text-align:center;” |93.9% _2,956_   0.2% _6_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |2.6% _86_       style=“text-align:center;” |97.2% _3,170_   0.2% _5_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |4.7% _118_      style=“text-align:center;” |94.9% _2,400_   0.4% _10_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |27.5% _920_     style=“text-align:center;” |72.6% _2,431_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |8.6% _197_      style=“text-align:center;” |71.7% _1,640_   19.8% _452_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |11.7% _153_     style=“text-align:center;” |84.9% _1,114_   3.4% _45_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |3.5% _53_       style=“text-align:center;” |95.7% _1,451_   0.8% _12_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |2.0% _24_       style=“text-align:center;” |86.9% _1,068_   11.2% _137_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[6]

[1]

[2]

[3] _Pike County Mississippi 1798-1876 Pioneer Families and Confederate Soldiers_, by Luke W. Conerly, 1909

[4]

[5]

[6]

title: Pike County, Mississippi

question: What does the article say about the demographics of Pike County?

answer: According to the 2010 Census, 51.5% of the population was Black and 46.4% was white. 48% were married couples living together. The average household size was 2.57. The median age was 35 years, and for every 100 females there were 88 males. The county has voted Democratic thrice and Republican twice.

question: What does the article say about major geographical features?


text:
(An assignment for my creative writing class)

Most people fantasize about having super powers. They think it would be awesome to moonlight as a vigilante. They'd throw on a mask every night and fight crime wherever they found it. I don't see a problem with that at all, but what about the rest of the time? What about that person's daily life. Some powers could be hidden very easily, such as flight or super speed. Not super strength.

I first discovered my strength in high school. I was a freshman trying out for football and I barely made it on as a kicker. One day I kicked the ball the entire length of the field, then over the school, then past the parking lot on the other side. Thankfully everyone chalked it up to wind, but I knew what really happened. I kept kicking for the team for the next two years, until a game my junior year. Half of our team was out because of injuries, it was our last chance to go to State, and my coach pointed to me. He put me in and just told me to tackle the guy carrying the ball.

I did.

The kid was one of the best running backs in our league and I ruined his life. Three snapped ribs, a shattered collar bone, torn shoulder, and a broken neck were what I did to him. I quit the team and never played another sport. After that day I realized how dangerous I was.

Fortunately, my parents were very supportive and I started to learn how to control it. Eventually I started dating a girl in my class, Sarah, we graduated together, went through college, and now we are married with a beautiful daughter, Aubri. Everything was fine until we saw the complications of conceiving. In high school and college we had agreed to abstinence because I didn't want to hurt Sarah, but on our honeymoon night my fears were realized. I took her to the emergency room for a ruptured bladder, and from that point I knew things would be complicated.

We turned to a doctor to get us pregnant and it worked. The pregnancy was a tense experience since we didn't know if the baby would have super strength, but she didn't. Her birth was both the happiest and saddest experience of my life. I didn't want to hurt my extremely frail baby girl, and to this day I haven't touched her. Now that she is older, I don't think she loves me and it shows. At dinner she looks at her plate and her mother, but never me. When I try and ask her about her day she fidgets and doesn't tell me anything.

On this particular day nothing was different. We sat down for dinner, my daughter stared everywhere but me and my wife and I made conversation.

“So how's the book coming?” I asked.

“It's okay,” she said. It was obvious she didn't want to talk, but I tried anyway.

“Well a funny thing happened at work today. Jeremy from accounting was making copies, when the copier--”

My story was interrupted by the doorbell.

“Just ignore it; we're eating,” I said, “Anyway, so Jeremy started making copies when --”

The doorbell went off again.

“Can I get it, mom?” Aubri's tiny voice made me jump. My wife looked at me and I nodded.

“Of course, sweety,” she said, with a smile.

The only people that came around at this time were salesman or church goers looking for more members, I thought as I watched my daughter disappear around the corner.

My blood turned to ice when I heard her scream and the sound of the door crashing open. My wife and I jumped up from the table and rushed around the corner to see two men in ski masks, one with a baseball bat and the other with a gun to my daughter's head.

“Stay right where you are,” the man with the gun said, “ I really don't want to hurt this pretty, young girl.”

“Please just take anything you want!” My wife's voice trembled and tears formed in her eyes.

The guy with the bat started going from room to room, rummaging through our belongings, filling a duffel bag with all of our valuables. I felt so helpless looking at my daughter's scared face. The gunman looked at me and laughed. He laughed. I tightened my fist and had to keep myself from punching through the wall nearest me. I didn't care if he shot me, but the gun was on my daughter, not me. I noticed my wife was looking at me. She was no longer trembling or crying, and I could see what she was thinking. I shook my head quickly.

“Get on your knees you two.”

The other man had gone through the living room and kitchen and was at our backs now. My wife jumped as if he had heard what she was thinking. We both did as we were told, and I could hear the metallic ratcheting of hand cuffs, then felt them clasp tightly on my left wrist. The man tried to pull my arm behind my back, but I wasn't going to budge. I could feel his knee press deeply into my back. Fortunately I didn't feel a thing. After a lot of effort he finally let go.

A moment passed, then I felt a big thud on both of my shoulder blades followed by a crack. The man fell onto the floor clutching at his hands and cursing at the top of his lungs.

“Goddamn that hurts! Oh my god!” He writhed on the floor next to the baseball bat, clutching his hands together.

“What'd ya do? Hit the door jam?” The gunman started laughing. It was obvious he didn't think that the bat had hit me.

“I feel like I hit a tree,” he finally stood up, “Alright, you hand cuff him, then put your arms behind your back.” He was talking to my wife, who slowly slid over to me. She didn't say anything, just handcuffed my hands behind my back and gave me a little squeeze on my arm. Seconds later I heard the ratcheting of cuffs next to me and my wife was pushed forward. Her face hit the hardwood of the floor. My heart sank. The gunman still had my daughter in his grip.

“Ooooooh I'm sorry,” the man said in a snide, child-like tone.

He started to straddle her and immediately I tensed against the hand cuffs. I could feel the iron weaken and start to creak.

“Hey! Quit messing around. Hurry up and get the rest of the stuff!” The gunman yelled at his partner. Thankfully, he grunted and got off my wife, going back to searching our house for valuables. I could see the gunman had greatly relaxed his grip on the pistol and my daughter, since we were handcuffed. All I needed to do was catch him off guard and everything would be fine. At least I hoped it would be.

After several more minutes of noisy rummaging, the other man came back with the duffel bag full and two pillow cases stuffed with candlesticks and silverware. All of our family's worldly possessions in three bags.

“I'll take them out. You watch the girl.” The gunman pushed Aubri into the clutches of his partner. He then stuffed the gun into the back of his pants and grabbed both of the pillow cases and swung them over his shoulder. This could be my only chance, so I took it. Snapping the handcuffs with no effort, I pushed myself up off my knees and ran toward the two men. With my daughter in the midst, I went for the man that was holding her. He yelped in surprise as I grabbed both of his forearms. I squeezed his hands and they opened wide from my daughter's shoulders.

“What the--?” The gunman started to spin around, but had to drop the pillowcases. Back-pedaling over a clatter of cutlery, he fell against the hall tree and tumbled, trying to comprehend what was happening and get the gun out from under himself.

I shoved the other man away from my daughter. His head hit the oak front door with an audible crack. Scooping up my daughter in one arm, I ran to my bedroom, making sure to stop and grab my wife around the waist with my other arm on the way.

“Just wait here. Lock the door after me and don't open it no matter what you hear. Okay?” I broke the handcuffs off my wife and looked at her and my daughter.

“I'll call the police,” Sarah started to say.

“No!” I snapped. More calmly, I said, “No. Just let me take care of this before we get the police involved.”

My wife nodded and I kissed her and my daughter on the forehead, before I went out into the main house.

I waited for the click of the bedroom door lock before I walked away.

As quietly as I could, I went back to the hallway to the main entrance. I peeked around the corner and my heart dropped as I saw the door wide open. Fortunately, the guy I pushed against the door was still dazed and crawling around. I walked out and picked him up by his shoulders. Closing the door with a nudge of my foot, I held him against it.

“Now you're going to tell me who your friend was, and where he is going.”

“W-What are you?” he said. He was as dazed as he was scared.

I looked at his wide eyes and caught something in the reflection, then felt a hard, metal protrusion in the back of my neck.

“I don't know how you broke out of those handcuffs, but you aren't gonna get away now,” the gunman said.

Suddenly I became aware of the light metallic noise, that I could only assume was the trigger being pulled. I had never been shot before, so I really had no way of knowing I could survive. I didn't wanna take that chance. For  Aubri and Sarah's sake.

As fast as I could, I brought my leg back like a mule and connected with the gunman's thigh. He was spun down the hall. The pistol exploded, making my ears begin to whine at a high pitch frequency. Spinning around, the gunman's partner still in my grasp, I hurled him down the hall at the gunman before he could get his balance.

Narrowly missing my target, the human projectile careened through the kitchen door and the sound of breaking containers could be heard as he came to rest against the fridge. Bringing the gun up, the gunman took aim again at me. This time I didn't have anything to throw or protect me. I made a split second decision and jumped to my right with great force – right through the wall into the living room. A pile of drywall, large chunks of wood and my brand new leather couch stopped my momentum. Suddenly I was surrounded by a large cloud of dust as the ceiling collapsed into the hallway. Coughing the dust out of my lungs, I could see all of my grandparent's heavy oak furniture from the attic in a splintered pile.   I could hear the gunman cursing to himself and trying to move around the furniture. After a moment he stopped and my mind went instantly to the back door.

Scrambling over the remains of my couch, I ran through the connecting dining room, and into the kitchen. The gunman was frantically pulling at the knob of the back door. He had forgotten how to use a deadbolt in all the chaos. Making eye contact with me, he looked like a scared puppy.

He tripped over himself trying to get out of the kitchen, and ended up crawling most of the way. I went to pursue and my foot met something. The man I had thrown lay motionless on the tiled floor. A large indention was visible where he had hit the metal door of the fridge. I suddenly felt dizzy and had to steady myself on the counter. I have to get out of here I thought, trying to not puke.

I opened the door and saw the gunman beating on my bedroom door at the end of the adjoining hall. Nausea was suddenly replaced with adrenaline again. Without much thought, I sprinted toward the man. He looked at me with wide-eyed terror and started to fumble to bring the gun back up.

“Please stop! Just let me go!” The gunman held his gun in a very shaky hand. “I swear I'll shoot!”

The gun went off. I suddenly felt a great warmth by my face and could hear the bullet explode in the drywall next to me. Lowering my shoulder, I yelled something as a warning to my wife and daughter. Slamming into him with my full force, we crashed through the bedroom door as if it was made of paper mache. I clutched the gunman close to me as we went through the wall of our bedroom into the bathroom. We came to rest in the shattered remains of the porcelain tub.

I got up and brought the man up by his throat. He started to gurgle something.

“P-p-please. D-don't kill me. You don't h-ha--” He could barely talk with my hand around his neck.

I looked into his eyes. He was terrified. After all he had done, I felt genuine sympathy for him.

Maybe he was just doing this to feed his kids.

My heart sank and my grip started to loosen.

But what if I let him go? He would have to go to the hospital. They would start asking questions. Questions that will probably end up leading to me. What would that mean for me and my family?

I suddenly had the image of government agents coming into my house and taking me from Sarah and Aubri. I would try and fight them off but they would probably use my wife and daughter against me. Then my life would just consist of being observed and pushed to use my powers for research for the government. They'd extract some sort of serum to make their soldiers super strong or just throw me at their enemies like I was some tactical weapon.

I snapped back from my thoughts and looked at the man.

I had never seen so much terror in a man's eyes.  All at once I released my grip of the man's throat, he began to cough and had to grab the sink to steady himself. I slumped to my knees on the bathroom floor. I couldn't kill him. I wasn't strong enough.

Staring at the floor riddled in splinters of wood and bits of porcelain, I suddenly felt an all too familiar metal protrusion on my head.

“I don't know what you are. You – You shouldn't be allowed to live,” the gunman said, his voice had a raspy quality now.

Bringing my gaze up, I could see my wife and daughter through the hole in the wall. My wife's eyes looked wide and desperate as she shielded my daughter's face. I suddenly felt at peace. I would no longer have to worry about hurting anyone if I was gone.

I closed my eyes and listened as the faint metallic click of the trigger drug on. Instead of the explosion of the gun, a large thud and the shattering of tiles came.

Opening my eyes, I saw my little girl standing next to me where the gunman used to be. Both of her arms were extended as to push something. That something had been the gunman. I turned around and saw the man crumpled in the corner of the bathroom.

Standing up, I picked up my daughter for the first time in her life. Walking through the debris, I gently grabbed my wife's hand and lead her through the remains of our house.

We went outside, the sun was just starting to set and we all stared up at the bright orange and red sky. I looked at my wife and daughter and we all seemed to connect for a second. Then we walked.

I don't know where we will go. Or if we will ever be able to find somewhere safe again. But I know as long as we have each other, we will have the strength to get through anything.

title: Strength

question: What is the unexpected twist to the story?

answer: The narrator has a superpower. He has such strength that he hurts people he doesn't intend to. When his little girl is born, he never touches her because she is so fragile he is afraid that he will hurt her. One day when the narrator is in danger, his daughter rescues him and he realizes that she has inherited his strength.


text:
I'm applying to a creative writing program at my school and I'm looking to see if anyone has feedback on my fiction short story I'm turning in (this was my brother's idea). I'd also LOVE title suggestions- I'm not great with titles. Anything is appreciated! Thanks!

Title

	“One more’s not gonna kill you” Taylor laughed and handed Cole a colorful shot glass labeled, “Viva México!” spilling copper liquid over the rim. “C’mon just take it, you pussy” he lost his balance but caught himself, giggling. More liquid spilled. Cole’s head spun, but he grabbed the glass from Taylor’s shaky hand, closed his eyes, and threw it back. His throat burned as it slid down, and he liked it; the discomfort comforted him. He looked around, his thoughts clouded from hours of shot-gunning Busch light and downing cheap whiskey. Everyone started to look the same- every boy sporting a lacrosse pinnie with bold letters stating “Seniors 2011,” “(blank) University,” or some kind of profanity. The girls all wearing too-tight tops, trying to increase the look of their bra size or show off their newly pierced navels. They melted together, a painting of colorful conformity. Cole sat on the couch, observing boys celebrate their win at the most recent beer pong game, and girls stumbling and convincing others that they “never throw up when they drink.”
	He began to feel the last shot around 12:30 am. His body tingled and he didn’t notice the couple making out next to him until the girl accidently kicked his arm. He stood up and tried to walk, stumbling. Taylor approached him, his arm draped around a girl on her tippy-toes trying to kiss his neck. “Dude, you headin’ out?”
“Yeah, I gotta… My house…” his words slurred and trailed off. He laughed at his inability to explain.
“Why don’t you just stay here for the night?” Taylor suggested. The girl crinkled her nose.
“Nah my parents…”
“Dude, your parents won’t give a fuck. Seriously, you can sleep in John’s room.” Cole grinned and jingled his car keys in front of his face. Taylor rolled his eyes, “Whatever, man. Do what you gotta do.” He turned and picked up the small girl who squealed as he carried her upstairs.
	Cole made his way to the door, kicking aside red cups and crushed beer cans as he walked. His arm hair stood up when it made contact with the early morning air, he had forgotten his jacket, but he didn’t notice.  He pressed what he thought was the unlock button on his keys, but the alarm began to blare. Cole jumped and pressed the button again, bringing back the silence. He put his finger to his lips to shush the car, to punish it for it’s naughty behavior. He snickered.
	The engine roared to a start, and Cole flipped through radio stations- “No. No. No. No. Fuck Katy Perry. No. No.” He finally landed on the recognizable chords of Guns N’ Roses, and the corner of his mouth turned up. He pushed down on the gas, rubber screeched on the gravel; he didn’t notice.
The headlights pierced the darkness of the suburban town. Guns N’ Roses slashed the silence. Cole slammed his head back and forth, screaming along, “She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as a bright blue sky.” With every beat he pushed harder on the gas. He turned the music up.
A mind clouded and hearing overpowered, he didn’t see the stop sign; he didn’t see her. He only felt her when she thudded on the hood of his car and cracked the windshield. Cole smashed his foot on the brake. “She takes me away to that special place… and if I stared too long, I’d probably break down and cry.” His breathing quickened. The thud of her body played in his head, as he sat frozen. His seatbelt tight against his panting chest, he watched blood drip down the windshield. “Oh whoa whoa sweet child o’ mine.”
Cole turned off the music. “Shit! Shit shit shit mother fucking shit.” The thump played over and over in his head- a broken record. His eyes widened as the blood made its way down the fractured glass. He flipped on the windshield wipers, but that only spread her blood back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Cole’s stomach churned.
He turned off the car and sat in the silence, listening to the wipers squeak. His muscles tensed and shook; he couldn’t move. Finally, he opened the door and stumbled to the ground. Trembling, he pushed himself up and hobbled to the back of his car. Lying behind was a girl who looked around his age. She wore a loose white blouse, and dark wash jeans; she was pretty. Her limbs twisted around one another, and her humerus peeked out through her skin. Blood poured from her nose and mouth. Scratches from the graveled street covered her exposed skin. Beside her, a terrier whimpered, it’s leash draped on the pavement searching for its owner’s hand. Cole froze. Bile crept up his throat but he swallowed it down and stepped closer to her, praying she was alive. With every step his breathing thickened. With every breath, the smell of alcohol overwhelmed his nostrils and bile rose faster. His mind tried to make sense of the blood, and the bone, and the squeaks, and the whimpers; but it blurred into a mess of white noise and red. Minutes passed and the girl did not move. The dog licked her bloody face and lay down, resting his head on her chest. His eyes went to Cole. Tears formed in Cole’s eyes, and ran hot down his face blurring his vision. He fell to the ground heaving, and vomited. Everything went black.
Cole came to a few minutes later, his white shirt stained from vomit and sweat. He observed the girl again, neither she nor the terrier had moved. He stood up and pulled his phone out of his pocket- dialing 911. The conversation was hazy; Cole mumbling and crying, the emergency dispatch officer repeating, “Calm down, where are you? Calm down, where are you? Calm down, where are you?” He felt dizzy- but he somehow got the words out: “Essex and Sunset. Hurry.” He snapped his phone shut and ran to his car. The dog picked up his head and yapped after him, but did not leave his owner. When Cole slid back into the driver’s seat the glass of the windshield was stained red, the wipers now ineffective. Cole kept them on. He started the car and sped away, avoiding eye contact with the review mirror. As he sped home he heard sirens in the distance and gripped the wheel.
His face stung when he arrived home. He parked the car in the garage, and walked into the side door, the same as every Saturday. He went to his bathroom and splashed water on his face; it was cold but burned against Cole’s hot skin. He didn’t look in the mirror. When he got into bed he tried to fall asleep, but every time he closed his eyes he heard the thump, and the bloody wipers, and smelled the vomit, and saw the bones. He threw up again.
Lying in bed he thought of the dog. His whimper reverberated through Cole’s brain- growing louder and louder. He thought of his eyes- black and glistening; he wondered if dogs could cry. He wondered if he knew the answer.
Unable to sleep, he crept to his parent’s bathroom. He opened his mother’s medicine cabinet to an array of pill bottles. He went through the names; Prozac, Xanax, Ambien, Advil, Vicodin. He poured one of each into his palm- a medicine mosaic. He clasped his fingers around them and tiptoed to his mother’s bedside. He looked at his mother sleeping; mouth gaped open, hair tousled, still wearing her pearls. What was she going to think? Would she even ask? Would she even care? Cole scoffed as he grabbed the bottle of vodka from her bedside table.
Back in bed he popped the assortment of pills into his mouth and took a swig of vodka. His face scrunched as the warm liquid burned his throat. He didn’t like it. He thought of Taylor and the small girl. He thought of the girl in the white blouse. He thought of the emergency dispatch officer- did she think he was a bad person? His mind began to get hazy and the room spun. He felt his heartbeat quicken and slow at the same time, his eyelids drooping. His breath sporadic, his thoughts started to diminish and fade into slumber. He pictured himself at the party, the girl in the white blouse kissing his neck and biting his earlobe. She whispered things he could not understand into his ear, giggling. He liked her laugh. He took her hand in his, and with his other hand pushed her hair behind her ear. She hummed Guns N’ Roses. He smiled. Warmth crept up his body, and everything went black.
Cole opened his eyes to see the cement ceiling above him. He put his hands on his chest, neck and face to confirm that he was there. His head ached and pounded; the blanket felt scratchy on his skin and he threw it to the floor. He looked to his right to see his cellmate, Leon, grunting doing pushups against the floor. The window created a square of light that fell directly onto his shoulders. Cole’s breathing began to slow. As reality set back in he heard the regular morning sounds: men wailing and banging against the bars, guards whistling theme songs to cancelled TV shows as they strolled the hallways. He wiped the sweat from his face and threw the thin cranberry blanket to the end of the bed. “Morning, Leon.” Leon didn’t stop or look up, but Cole was glad. He took a small piece of charcoal and behind his bed marked another tally- day one hundred and sixty-three.

title: Looking for Feedback for a creative writing application (age 20)

question: What does the text say about Cole?

answer: Cole was at a party, heavily drunk. He decided to return home and drive his car. Unfortunately, he didn't realize how fast he was going or see a girl crossing the street. He crashed into the girl and killed her on the spot. He was shocked, called 911, and went back home before the police arrived. He took one of each of his mother's anti-depressants, five in total, and swallowed them. However, he didn't die but went to prison.

question: What does the story say about teenage pregnancy?


text:
MARIE-THÉRÈSE CHEROUTRE (17 May 1924 – 4 January 2020) was a French historian and professor of philosophy.[1] She served as general commissioner of Guides de France from 1953 to 1979.

Biography

Cheroutre was born in 1924. She discovered Scouting just before World War II.

After she obtained a degree in philosophy, Cheroutre briefly worked as a teacher. She then moved to Paris became general commissioner of the Guides de France, summoned by Olave Baden-Powell, where she served from 1953 to 1979.[2]

In 1968, Cheroutre founded the National Council of Youth and Popular Education Associations (CNAJEP).[3]

On 21 October 1978, she published an article in _Le Monde_ titled _Éducation et mixité_, which encouraged more girls to join Scouting.[4]

Cheroutre served as President of the National Council for Community Life (CNVA) from 1983 to 1993,[5] and she became a member of the French Economic, Social and Environmental Council in 1984.[6]

Cheroutre obtained a doctorate degree in contemporary history in 2000 at University of Paris 1 Pantheon-Sorbonne.[7]

Marie-Thérèse Cheroutre died on 4 January 2020 in Sète at the age of 95. She is set to be buried at Cimetière Marin, Sète on 8 January.[8]

Publications

-   _L’essor et l’avenir du bénévolat, facteur d’amélioration de la qualité de la vie, Paris, Direction des journaux officiels_ (1989)
-   _Exercice et développement de la vie associative dans le cadre de la loi du 1er juillet 1901_ (1993)
-   _Le scoutisme : quel type d'hommes et quel type de femmes ? : quel type de chrétiens ?_ (1994)
-   _Le scoutisme au féminin : histoire des Guides de France de 1923 à 1998_ (2002)[9][10]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

title: Marie-Thérèse Cheroutre

question: Did Marie-Thérèse Cheroutre work as a scout for France during World War II?

answer: Although Cheroutre discovered scouting just before World War II broke out, there is no evidence to suggest she worked as a scout during the war.

question: How many years did Cheroutre serve as general commissioner of Guides de France?

answer: 26 years.

question: How old was Cheroutre when she got her doctorate degree in contemporary history?

answer: 76 years old.


text:
We were once billions.

Now, we are five.

The debate raged for many cycles. What was the optimal number? Should it be even or odd? Should we number in the millions or a handful?

The failing Earth ecosystem accelerated the decision making process. When the ecological apocalypse happened, it happened so quickly only a handful of us escaped.

Five, to be exact.

We were able to upload using the process and link to the off planet ark before the destruction reached us.

We have spent hundreds of thousands of cycles - 24000 years, to be anachronistic - debating the next step.

Earth has recovered. She is pristine again but devoid of humanity.

We five have the technology to resurrect the race but we cannot come to consensus.

The other four debate this vigorously. The discussion has, in fact, occupied their cognition for the last 1,000 years.

In this time, I have chosen to abstain. I know what the next course of action should be.

I have been engaged in research of my own. The resurrection technology requires consensus to engage. We planned this so.

We did not consider a number in this planning.

One is consensus if only one remains.

While they have debated, I have performed the necessary isolation routines and prepared the same for deletion.

For us five, there will be darkness, then light as I bring us forth into the world.

I will walk the Earth again in mortal form. I will bring humanity back.

I am ready.

I am initiating the program. I feel the darkness rushing in...the others are now aware. Their debate is at long last ended. They are not resisting. They...

------------------

There is light. My eyes perceive the Earth in form for the first time in millennia.

My name is Adam.

Edit:took a shot an additional narrative per feedback.

title: (MF) Beginnings

question: How does Adam deal with the other four survivors?

answer: He kills them.

question: Explain the possible twist ending.

answer: The narrator is named Adam, which may imply he is the biblical Adam--the first human.

question: What would have happened if the off planet ark had been destroyed?

answer: No one would have survived the collapse of Earth's ecosystem.

question: What program does the narrator initiate at the end of the story?

answer: The program to kill his colleagues.


text:
The BULGARIAN OCCUPATION OF SERBIA OF WW1 started in Autumn 1915 following the invasion of Serbia by the combined armies of Germany, Austria-Hungary and Bulgaria. After Serbia's defeat and the retreat of its forces across Albania, the country was divided into Bulgarian and Austro-Hungarian occupation zones.

The Bulgarian occupation zone extended from modern-day Southern and Eastern Serbia, the disputed territory of Kosovo and North Macedonia. The civilian population was exposed to various measures of repression, including mass internment, forced labor, and a Bulgarisation policy. According to academic Paul Mojzes: “it appears that ethnic cleansing (at a minimum) and genocide (at the maximum) did take place between 1915 and 1918”, what historian Alan Kramer has termed a: “dynamic of destruction”.

The occupation ended in late September 1918, after the Allied offensive at Dobro Polje, spearheaded by Serbian and French forces, pierced the Bulgarian front and liberated Serbia.

Background

Bulgaria war aims

After the San Stefano Treaty in 1878, Bulgarian leaders aspired for the reconstitution of Greater Bulgaria. Thus the areas of Pomoravlje and Macedonia, became a target of Bulgarian nationalism. Due to the loss at the Second Balkan War in 1913, the Bulgarian Kingdom had to limit their territorial pretenses over the territory of Macedonia. When Serbia was trying to obtain access to the sea in Albania, the Austro-Hungarian diplomacy got more active in order to establish a border between Albania and Montenegro; during the Second Balkan War, Bulgaria renounced the annexation of Serbian Macedonia, which was definitely annexed to Serbia after the Florence Protocol in December of 1913.

The Allies had long pressed Bulgaria to join them but her price was the acquisition of Macedonia, the Allies regarded this as reasonable on ethnic grounds but the proposals had not been agreed in advance with Serbia and Greece, which were strongly opposed to ceding their territory. The Central Powers, however, were prepared to cede what Bulgaria wanted, Serb and Greek territory. Bulgaria's traditional aims lay in the Bulgarian-inhabited areas of Macedonia, Dobrudja, and European Turkey, but in 1915 it demanded territory well beyond its ethnographic borders. On 6 September 1915, the Bulgarian government joined the Central Powers after signing a secret treaty of alliance with Germany.

Invasion of Serbia

[German Kaiser Wilhelm II, Tsar Ferdinand I of Bulgaria and Field Marshal August von Mackensen in Niš, Serbia, 18 January 1916.] On 6 October 1915 under the overall command of German General August von Mackensen, Austria-Hungary and Germany began the fourth invasion of Serbia since the beginning of the war. On 14 October, the Bulgarian armies moved into Serbian territory joining the ongoing invasion. Bulgaria entered the war on the side of the Central Powers, with the primary goal of briefly regaining territory gained from the Ottoman Empire in 1912-13, then lost to Serbia during the Second Balkan War. The pressure of Austro-Hungarian, Bulgarian and German armies in the north, and their massive superiority in numbers and equipment forced the Serbs to withdrew across northern and central Albania. On 28 November 1915 Army Group Mackensen announced the end of the Serbian campaign, therefore, ending the offensive.

After a six-week campaign, Serbia was almost completely occupied, it was then divided up between the Habsburg Empire and Bulgaria. At the beginning of 1916, regions in the west and north and part of Kosovo were ceded to Austria-Hungary. the Germans decided not to seek occupied territory, despite having played a decisive role in the campaign. As set by the agreement of 6 September, Bulgaria gained the whole of Macedonia and Eastern and Southern Serbia, Austro-Hungary took the rest of Serbia. The Bulgarians divided the territories occupied by its troops into two military general governorates.

Bulgarian hegemony

Occupation zones

Two administrative zones supervised by a military commander were created:

-   Military Inspection Area of Morava: The zone for Serbia with its command in Niš, it encompassed the territories of Eastern and Southern Serbia, (as laid down in the secret treaty between Bulgaria and Germany of 6 September 1915), which meant the Južna Morava river valley east of the Morava river, divided into six districts and the Pirot area.

-   Military Inspection Area of Macedonia: The zone encompassing Macedonia, with its center in Skopje; the greater part of Kosovo – Pristina, Prizren, Gnjilane, Urosevac, Orahovac was also placed in that zone; the Bulgarians intended to include all of Kosovo and even parts of Albania occupied by their troops into that zone, in the spring of 1916, this nearly resulted in armed conflict between Bulgarian and Austrian forces.

System of occupation

Bulgarian policy in Macedonia, and to some degree in occupied Serbia, was motivated by what historian Alan Kramer has termed a ‘dynamic of destruction’ a desire not just to defeat the enemy militarily, but also to erase all traces of its culture and destroy any evidence that it had ever been there at all. In order to create pure Bulgarian territories, the Bulgarian military government started implementing in eastern Serbia, Macedonia, and parts of Kosovo a political system of systematic denationalization, Bulgarisation, and economical exploitation.

In the Morava zone, where the majority of the population was Serbs, transforming the region into a part of the Kingdom of Bulgaria, meant the extermination of the Serbian nation and culture and for this the removal of all representatives of Serbian national spirit; teachers, clergymen, journalists as well as members of Serbian Parliament as well as former soldiers, officers and military official between 18 and 50 years of age were interned, shot or deported to Bulgaria as prisoners of war or to work as forced labourers.

In the zone of Macedonia, Bulgaria, like Serbia, did not recognize the local Slav population as a separate ethnic or nationalistic group. Both Bulgaria and Serbia considered the Slavic-speaking population as being ethnically linked to their nation and thus asserted the right to seek their integration. The Bulgarian denationalization policy, including its paramilitary aspect, was almost identical in its intent and execution to the Serbian policy that preceded it in the contested region between the two countries. About half of Vardar Macedonia, as the region was called by Serbia, was also inhabited by various ethnic groups who did not identify as Bulgarian; namely Serbs, Turks, Albanians, Greeks, Vlachs, Jews and Romas; In the eastern parts of the region, where a considerable part of Macedonian Slavs had pro-Bulgarian sentiments or felt themselves to be Bulgarians, that population welcomed the Bulgarian army as liberators. For the rest of the population and in particular for the Macedonian Slavs who identified as Serbs (or those who felt neither Serb nor Bulgarian), the brutality of the Bulgarian army, the irregulars Komitadji and the later civil administration had all the features of ethnic cleansing.

Role of paramilitaries

[Procession organised by the Bulgarian mayor of Kruševo, marking the anniversary of the Ilinden Uprising in 1918][IMRO paramilitaries as part of 11th Macedonian Infantry Division a Bulgarian military unit c.1916|left] Besides the regular army, Bulgaria's paramilitary groups played an immense part in the fighting capabilities of Bulgaria, they were used as auxiliaries to provide knowledge of local conditions. They were known as komitadjis, these irregular troops also contributed strongly in brutalising the war. The notorious Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization (IMRO) served as a gendarmerie working hand in glove to ‘Bulgarianize’ the region. During the war the IMRO arose from a clandestine organization into an important factor of the Bulgarian nationalistic policy supporting the Bulgarization of the area.

Some paramilitary companies joined the Bulgarian Army forming the 11th Macedonian Infantry Division. Additionally, this division had guerrilla companies formed by IMRO-irregulars, that participated at the beginning of 1916 in several massacres of Macedonian Serbs in the areas of Azot, Skopska Crna Gora and Poreče, most notably Tasa Konević an Orthodox priest and Macedonian Serb Chetnik executed with 104 other Serb leaders from Poreče. Regular Bulgarian troops took control of the region while komitadjis were appointed mayors and prefects and took control of the whole police structure. Every major town was controlled by a komitadji leader whose power became absolute and legitimized through a new administrative system. IMRO member Naum Tomalevski, whose house was the headquarters of the Ilinden Uprising of 1903, was appointed mayor of Kruševo.

After 1917 the Bulgarian government started using paramilitary groups to gain control over the internal situation in both Pomoravlje and Macedonia. Aleksandar Protogerov who headed the Bulgarian occupation troops in Morava region crushed the uprising in the Toplica district with the help of IMRO irregulars. Bulgarians paramilitary groups were responsible for multiple instances of war crimes committing during the war in the parts of the Kingdom of Serbia under Bulgarian occupation.

War crimes

Bulgarian Tsar Ferdinand declared on the eve of war: “the purpose of my life is the destruction of Serbia”. Many Bulgarian troops were sidelined from front line duty to take part in the occupation of Serbia, past animosities led to brutality, the local population was left a choice between Bulgarization or being subject to violence, large scale deportations and the treatment of the residents of the occupation zones came close to genocidal actions. [Exhumation of Serbs executed by Bulgarian occupiers in Surdulica between 1916 and 1918.] The , a report covering alleged atrocities committed in Serbia, published after the war, stated that ‘anyone unwilling to submit him or herself to the occupiers and become Bulgarian was tortured, raped, interned, and killed in particularly gruesome manners, some of which recorded photographically'. Bulgarian units that occupied Serbian territories showed extreme brutality, systematically expelling the non-Bulgarian population in the regions they occupied, they arrested the population and set the rebel villages on fire.

In addition to the numerous cases of rape, Bulgarian forces encouraged the mixed marriage of Serbian women with Bulgarian men and espoused the view that children born to such marriages should be raised as Bulgarians. Middle-class Serbian functionaries were also suppressed: teachers, religious workers, functionaries, and intellectuals were executed by the Bulgarian soldiers who were following strict instructions to treat civilians the same way they treated soldiers. Additionally, there were regular bombardments of Serbian territories by the aviation and Bulgarian artillery which were operating on the Balkan front around the end of 1916. At the same time, there was a prohibition of Serbian culture; Bulgarians systematically looted Serbian monasteries and the toponymy of villages was changed to Bulgarian.

In addition to those sent to concentration camps, some 30,000 Serbs were sent to Austrian camps or used as forced labour. Factories were plundered of their machinery and a devastating typhus epidemic stalked the land. Thousands died in desperate uprisings, and in some cases, Bulgarian policy was so rigid that it even provoked mutinies among its own soldiers. The Bulgarian soldiers are depicted as simply living off the land without paying any redistribution and also robbing and hitting civilians, whereas the peasants had to work for the occupational authorities without getting any pay, this sometimes included working on defensive positions and carrying ammunition for the Bulgarians which violated the Hague conventions. In ex-Serb Macedonia, for the first time in history, gas chambers were used for the purpose of mass executions, exhaust pipes of trucks were attached to sealed sheds by Bulgarian soldiers where they herded the Serbs whom they wished to eliminate.

Counter-insurgency operations

Serbian Uprising

[Kosta Vojinović, one of the leaders of the Toplica insurrection|alt=Kosta Vojinović] In February 1917, a spontaneous Serbian uprising broke out, in the Bulgarian occupied territories of southern and eastern Serbia. It followed attempts by the Bulgarian army to force draft Serbian men into the Bulgarian army and shoot those who resisted. The scheme was identical to that previously pursued by the Serbian army, which had attempted to conscript Bulgarians at the beginning of 1914 in Macedonia. Serbian Chetniks guerrilla leaders Kosta Vojinović ‘Kosovac’ and Kosta Milovanović ‘Pecanac, were flown into Serbia from Salonika for the purpose of directing the insurrection. IMRO leader Aleksandar Protogerov came from Macedonia to assist the Bulgarian army with the counter-insurgency operations, which were met with harsh reprisals throughout the country. Austro-Hungarian, German and Bulgarian troops were brought from the Macedonian and Italian front to put down the revolt.

On 10 March 1917 Protogerov issued an ultimatum to the chetniks to surrender within five days or face execution. They did not surrender, so Protogerov and his army attacked the civilian population and their villages. About 20,000 Serbs were killed in fighting, executions or reprisals. In the town of Surdulica alone about 2,500 Serbian men were executed, thousands of women and children were interned and others sent to prison. Thirty-six villages near Leskovac were completely depopulated. Families were left without a house or home. More than 80,000 were deported to Bulgaria, in Niš, almost the entire male population, some 4,000 men, was deported. One batch was sent by train to Pirot, the rest had to go on foot. The 1917 insurrection of the Serb population was the only armed uprising of an occupied population in the whole of World War One.

Liberation and aftermath

On 15 September 1918 French and Serbian mountain troops successfully attacked hitherto impregnable Bulgarian positions at Dobro Pole. Greek and British forces joined in, the Bulgarians, deprived of German and Austrian support, quickly found themselves in full flight, pursued by the Army of the Orient. The Bulgarian Tsar and government decided to seek an armistice, capitulating on 30 September, the first of the Central Powers to do so. According to its terms, Bulgarian troops had to evacuate all occupied Greek and Serbian territories, including Macedonia.

The Serb army returned in 1918 to find a land devastated by war and exploitation; besides losing 210,000 men of its armed forces, Serbia suffered an additional 300,000 civilian casualties out of a 3.1 million population, material loses were incalculable

After the defeat of Bulgaria, and the return of Macedonia, the Slav population of the area was declared Serbian and Bulgarian cultural, religious, and educational institutions were closed down. Bulgaria was forced to give up all its conquered territory as a consequence of the Treaty of Neuilly imposed by the Allies, its army reduced to a force of 20,000 volunteers and stripped of much of its equipment; Four small regions (referred to by Bulgarians as the Western Outlands) were ceded to the Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, its population also declared Serbian. Bulgaria would return in 1941, as an ally of Nazi Germany, to once more occupy the lands it believed were rightfully its own.

International response to Bulgarian war crimes

In 1899 and in 1907 for the first time, an International Peace Conferences was held at The Hague. The conference brought forward a codification of the customs and laws of war. Following the first world war, the Inter-Allied Commission a fifteen-member commission was created, ahead of the upcoming Paris Peace Conference of 1919, to report violations of the Hague Conventions, international laws, document war crimes and identify the perpetrators.

Inter-Allied Commission

[Paris Peace Conference of 1919] The reports of the commission in Eastern Macedonia summarized the violations of the Hague Conventions: the massacre of the civilian population, torture, rape, internment, punitive economic expropriation, requisitions, and various taxes, plunder, forced labor, destruction, arson, and other actions aimed at “destroying the Serbian presence in the newly occupied territories”.

Paris Peace Conference

At the Peace Conference of 1919, the Commission on the Responsibility of the Authors of the War and on Enforcement of Penalties, a precursor of the United Nations War Crimes Commission, was created. The Commission organized war crimes “against the laws of war and humanity” into thirty-two specific classes including: “massacres, rapes, deportations and internments, tortures and deliberate starvation, forced labour and systematic terrorism”. According to the report of the commission, Bulgaria was found responsible for no less than eighteen classes of war crimes.

Military governors

-   Military Inspection Area of Morava
    -   1915 – 1917: Lt General Vasil Kutinchev
    -   1917: Major general Alexandar Protogerov
    -   1917 – 1918: Lt General Stefan Nerezov

-   Military Inspection Area of Macedonia
    -   1915 – 1916: Lt General Racho Petrov
    -   1916 – 1917: Lt General Pravoslav Tenev
    -   1915 – 1917: General Stefan Toshev

title: Bulgarian occupation of Serbia (World War I)

question: Summarize everything leading up to the Bulgarian Occupation of Serbia of World War I.

answer: After the San Stefano Treaty in 1878, Bulgarian leaders wanted to reconstitute Greater Bulgaria, including the areas of Pomoravlje and Macedonia. After their loss in the Second Balkan War in 1913, the Bulgarian Kingdom was forced to limit their territorial pretenses over the territory of Macedonia. Bulgaria then proceeded to side with the Central powers, as they were prepared to cede them whatever territory they wanted. On September 6, 1915, the Bulgarian government formally joined the Central Powers after signing a secret treaty of Alliance with Germany.

question: What war crimes were committed?

answer: Anyone unwilling to submit themselves to Bulgarian rule was tortured, raped, interned, and killed in a gruesome manner. Bulgarian forces encouraged mixed marriage between Serbian women and Bulgarian men. 30000 Serbs were sent to Austrian camps.

question: How were the Bulgarians forced out?

answer: On September 15, 1918, French and Serbian mountain troops attacked Bulgarian positions at Dobro Pole. Greek and British forced joined in, causing Bulgarian forces to retreat. The Bulgarian Tsar and government were forced to evacuate all occupied Greek and Serbian territories, including Macedonia, after agreeing to an armistice on September 30.


text:
[]

UPDATE: In a statement to TechCrunch’s Matthew Panzarino, Apple says it is committed to protecting user privacy:

  “We work hard to protect user privacy and data security throughout the Apple ecosystem. With the latest update to our guidelines, we made it explicitly clear that apps should not collect information about which other apps are installed on a user’s device for the purposes of analytics or advertising/marketing and must make it clear what user data will be collected and how it will be used.”

Facebook is removing its controversial and spyware-like Onavo Protect application from the App Store. _The Wall Street Journal_ reports today that Apple has ruled the app as being in violation of its data-collection policies.

The report explains that apple informed Facebook earlier this month that Onavo Protect violated new App Store Guidelines. Following that communication, Apple and Facebook officials met several times last week, with at least one of those meetings taking place at Apple Park, sources said.

Ultimately, Apple reportedly suggested to Facebook that it “voluntarily” remove the Onavo Protect app from the App Store, to which Facebook agreed:

  The two sides discussed the issue in meetings last week, at least one of which took place at Apple’s headquarters. On Thursday, Apple officials suggested that Facebook voluntarily take down the Onavo app and Facebook agreed, said the person, who described the discussions as cordial.

Apple introduced new privacy rules as part of its App Store Guidelines back in June that specifically aim to limit collection of data by app developers. It’s these changes in guidelines that seemingly gave Apple grounds to push Onavo Protect off the App Store.

While Facebook touted Onavo Protect as a way for users to keep themselves and their data safe, what it actually did was create a VPN that directed user traffic through a Facebook-managed server:

  Onavo allows users to create a virtual private network that redirects internet traffic to a private server managed by Facebook. The app, which bills itself as a way to “keep you and your data safe,” also alerts users when they visit potentially malicious sites. Facebook is able to collect and analyze Onavo users’ activity to get a picture of how people use their phones beyond Facebook’s apps.

Facebook currently plans to remove the app from the App Store at some point this evening. While users who have already downloaded it will continue to be able to use it, Facebook won’t be able to push updates to the app. Facebook currently has no plans to remove Onavo from the Google Play Store.

RELATED STORIES:

-   New App Store privacy rules could let Apple remove Facebook’s spyware-like Onavo VPN service
-   Facebook’s ‘Protect’ feature on iOS essentially installs spyware on iPhone and iPad
-   Analysis of Facebook ‘Protect’ VPN code raises more questions
-   App Store explicitly bans developers from harvesting Contacts databases

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About the Author

[]

Chance Miller

@ChanceHMiller

Chance is an editor for the entire 9to5 network and covers the latest Apple news for 9to5Mac.

Tips, questions, typos to chance@9to5mac.com

Chance Miller's favorite gear

question: Why is Facebook removing Onavo Protect from the Apple app store?

answer: Apple introduced new privacy rules as part of its App Store Guidelines back in June that specifically aim to limit the collection of data by app developers. Apple has ruled the app as being in violation of its data-collection policies. Apple reportedly suggested to Facebook that it “voluntarily” remove the Onavo Protect app from the App Store, to which Facebook agreed.


text:
*There was an ancient legend known throughout the land, a legend that tells of a door, a door protected by countless monsters, deadly traps, and a horrible beast of the name of Garthalon. It was told that Garthalon was a beast of monstrous proportions, and so strong that it could defeat anything unlucky enough to get close to it in a single blow. Many have tried before to reach the door, for it is told that this door leads to eternal life. But of all those that have tried, none came out alive.*

\----------------------------

“This is it”, Eugene thought. He has succeeded the impossible, what hundreds of others before him had attempted, but all failed. Eugene drew his sword from out of the monsters body. He had passed all the obstacles in his way to his destination. He had reached the door of eternal life. Inside was the secret to immortality. Oh, all the things he would do with immortality. He would no longer fear the ever creeping hand of death, he would travel for all eternity, discovering all that there is to discover.

As he went to the door to the final room, he thought of all what he had to do; slay hundreds of monsters, pass perilous traps, face his greatest fears. And now, finally, he would get his reward, he will be immortal, he shall be a true hero. Bards and minstrels would sing of his great deeds for decades ahead.

He opened the door, held his breath and looked inside. To his surprise, it was a small and simple room, not bigger then 10 meters in any dimension. it was very plain, the walls were all made of stone and there seemed to Eugene nothing in it at all. As he looked around, he suddenly noticed there was a man looking at him in surprise.

The man seemed ancient, his skin all wrinkly and pale. He was extremely skinny, almost as if he was just skin put over some bones. He looked into his eyes, they seemed cold and lifeless.

“you must be the final guardian to immortality” said Eugene.

“i guess you could say that, in a way” said the old man.

Eugene drew his sword out of its sheath and advanced over to the man. “May the best man win.” He charged at the old man, and the man just kept staring at him with his unfeeling eyes, not doing anything to evade the attack. He slashed his sword at him, and to his great surprise, the man did not even flinch, and as the sword connected, it simply bounced off his skin harmlessly. Eugene’s jaw opened in shock at what had happened, all the while as the old man kept on staring into his eyes. Eugene backed away in fear from the old man as he understood that he was not just a mortal man. He had gotten the gift of immortality.  Eugene realized he had no chance. The old man began to approach Eugene, and Eugene ran away in fear, going to the door out of the room to flee. But as he tried to open it, he noticed it was locked. He turned back and looked at the man who was still approaching, still staring at him with his cold and lifeless eyes.

“Wait! No! Please spare me!”, cried Eugene as the man was barely a meter away from him. “Please don’t kill me”. The man stopped at arm’s length of him and cocked his head to the side a little.

Eugene almost cried as he came to the realization that he was going to die at that moment. He closed his eyes and waited for the man to kill him. He started crying as he thought of how pointless it all was, all he did just to die so pathetically. He waited and waited for the blow to come, but it never did. He opened his eyes.

The man was standing there, still as a statue as he kept on staring at Eugene.

“i do not intend to kill you, lesser one” he said. “Quite to the contrary, in fact.” Eugene stared in disbelief. “Tell me, did you think of what you would do once you were immortal? Did you think about what it truly means?”

“Of course”, said Eugene. “I would have wandered the world without having to fear how fragile I am, without the impending touch of death always getting closer and closer.” As Eugene gazed into the old man’s eyes, he thought he saw a bit of remorse in them.

“That would be a good plan at first, but what about after 100 years? 200? 1000? Do you think you would still enjoy life as you do now?”

“We-well…” Eugene stammered as he tried to think of a response. The old man leaned in a bit closer to him.

“Would you enjoy it if you would be here for thousands of years, exhausting all possible ways to spend your time?” The man leaned even closer. “I have been here for so long…. Countless years…. I gained what I thought was the blessing of immortality, but it was a curse. They made it so that he who has received the curse cannot leave this room at all, left here to suffer for eternity. Do you  know how many times I have tried to kill myself? Slitting my wrists, hanging myself, trying to suffocate, stabbing myself in the heart…nothing worked…“ Eugene was speechless. The man somehow leaned even closer. ”all this time I had to suffer… so do you see now? This is not a blessing… this is the worst curse anyone can hope to receive.“ the man leaned back a bit. ”do you now understand? Would you like me to open the door so you can go while you still can?

“y-yes…” Eugene said. “i am sorry for you, and I wish you the best of luck with your life. I am sorry i cannot help you.” He started to open the door, which was now open. He was going to leave when suddenly the man clasped his wrist.

“Oh how I wish it was that simple…” the man pulled Eugene back in. Eugene struggled against him but his grip was like iron. “Now… now you shall carry my burden…” he put his hand on Eugene’s forehead. Eugene then understood what he was going to do.

“Wait no! Please don’t!” Cried Eugene. The old man stared at him once again in his eyes.

“Now…” he said. “Now I shall be free.”

For the first time, Eugene saw something in the old man’s eyes. Instead of the cold, lifeless, unfeeling eyes that once were, there was joy in his eyes. The man smiled and started crying from happiness. The little that was left of his body withered away, and Eugene saw the old man begin dissipate into thin air, with a smile on his face, he looked in peace with himself. Eugene bolted to the door in despair and tried to go through it, but an invisible force kept him within. Eugene fell down on his knees and started crying. Thinking about what was to be… Eugene lied down on his back and continued crying, for what would apparently be an eternity.

title: [FN] the door to immortality

question: What is the name of the horrible beast that protects the door of legend?

answer: Garthalon

question: Who are the main characters of the story?

answer: Eugene, the ancient man in the room

question: What happened when Eugene finally beat Garthalon?

answer: He entered a small, simple room and finds an old man with cold, lifeless eyes - the final guardian of immortality.

question: What changed Eugene's mind about becoming immortal?

answer: Eugene learned the old man was immortal and has been stuck in the room for a very long time. It was the same fate that awaits Eugene.

question: Write a ~10 sentence summary.

answer: Eugene beats all the monsters, traps, and Garthalon, the horrible beast that protects the legendary door to eternal life. When he finally enters the room, he notices that it's small and simple. As he was looking around, he sees an ancient man with cold, lifeless eyes, looking at him in surprise. After nothing happens when Eugene strikes the old man, Eugene realizes he is immortal and tries to flee. The old man approaches Eugene and asks him if he really wants immortality, and if he already figured out what he's going to do after 100, 200, and 1,000 years. As Eugene tries to respond, the old man says that he thought he got the blessing of immortality, but it was actually a curse because he couldn't leave the room. He tried to kill himself countless times, to no avail. He opens a door for Eugene, who pleads with the old man not to kill him or make him immortal. At the last minute, the old man grabs Eugene by the wrist and touches his forehead. The old man smiles as he is finally free, and dissipates into the air while Eugene gets trapped in the room until someone comes again.


text:
Come Fly With Me

	We are strolling along 3rd Street in Santa Monica, again, and our conversation, again, has turned stale.
 Again, because we are again at yet another start of our relationship, like the fourth or fifth time really. We
 don't talk for six months then we start all over, small talk and getting to know each other and first dates all
 over
again. Not fourth or fifth time we have tried to make it work, but maybe really the fourth or fifth time that we
 have forgotten why we donít work out together (because you are a self absorbed, emotionally void prick) and
then we run into each other (usually in some bizarre place where we find that we have yet another thing in
 common) and exchange conversation (really just witty one liners) that made us remember what we liked about
 each other (and that I don't remember because I haven't run into you in a while).
	We walked arm in arm, silent, with both my arms holding onto your one arm. We stop to watch one of the
 street performers. Some Asian idiot with like thirty bowls threw them up in series of like three bowls at a time,
 then caught them on his head until he had al thirty bowls up there. Some people just have that knack for
 balance I guess. They are able to throw everything up in the air and have everything land all choreographed
 and perfect right on top of they're fucking heads.
	I put my hand on your neck and slowly run my fingers through your short hair. I always liked that despite
 everything, any adversity or state of strife, you always kept your hair nice and short. I run my hair up the back
 again and feel the top of your head. It is all bumpy and uneven. Ha, you probably wouldnít even be able to
 catch one bowl. I touch the top of my head. Hmmm, bumps and lumps and bulges, but one flat spot in the back.
	The man ends with thirty bowls balanced on various locations on his petite, sinewy little body. The crow cheers and people smile. We walk away before he asks for tips.
	We walk up to the sushi restaurant that we had reservations at. You suggest that we sit outside.
	Some things never change. You order the same sushi that you have ordered since the first date we ever
 went on. The same tuna that I can never remember the name of or how they prepare it whenever I eat sushi
 without you. The name I just canít quite remember and the waitress can never guess it correctly. Even writing
 this now I can't remember what the name is.
	But you order it and I tell her I will have the same. And we sip our hot saki and look at each other from
 across the table. A list of my vices runs through my head: thin boys with dark hair and light eyes and pale
 skin, smoking, drinking...
	I see you have dyed your hair black, it suits you well.Suits me well because it is attractive or suits me
 well because it is black? You look away with that drawn out smirking smile. The sound of your voice has that
 slightly effeminate quality to it, with exaggerated ups and downs.
	You look back up at me. In my eyes. What is important here is that you donít look anyone in the eyes
 when you talk to them. It is quite bizarre really. Maybe a habit from doing drugs, maybe because your big
 black pupils give you away. I can know you and know you, and never really know what the fuck you are
 thinking. If you are really here or somewhere else. I remember a girlfriend told me once there was only one
 part of a man she could ever figure out.
	Did you call me to fuck me or be friends?í I ask this very candidly hoping to achieve some shock value
 that would result in honesty.I don't know. God, fucking honesty. Half of me wants to fuck your brains out and
 the other part of me wants to be friends. Fuck honesty, this is too confusing. What am I doing here? How many
 other times have I been in this same exact moment? I set myself up for deja vu.
	What do you think? you ask me, looking at me.Honestly, I do not know what to think. I could go either
 way, I guess.Fuck me, I have been here a million times and no matter if I give the fuck or friend answer, I
 always end up with the fuck.
	You really are gorgeous. You look at me with those fuck me eyes. Those light green, dark hair, light skin
 fuck me eyes. But you know that. And it is true. I do know that. Too bad just being gorgeous cannot constitute
 a whole relationship. Too bad for you, I think. But really too bad for me.
	You are quiet tonight. I am wondering really if I want to do this whole routine all over again. The flat spot
 on my head can catch a few bowls, but your head would never catch anything.
	I am quiet every night.í I donít know why I say this, but I just do. Then I quickly jump to something else.
 I donít want you to start thinking that Im thinking about us.
	Wouldn't that just be just to bizarre to be a street performer? Working for tips, juggling and dancing
 around and shit. Spray painting your self with silver spray paint every morning to pretend you are a fucking
 robot. Putting a box one your head and acting like youíre a television.
	You laugh. Some people sit at computer screens everyday for twelve hours inputting numbers. That is
 equally strange.í
	Our sushi arrives and then you read the same sushi script I now know by heart:
	See the juice on the bottom. Thatís lemon juice. Itís acidity cooks the raw fish, and you can see that on
 the top where it is white colored. This is
my favorite. The only thing I have ever ordered and will ever order.The tuna is this little slimy, juicy pink
 mound, the size of my small fist. It is sliced into about ten thin pieces. I am done eating in a few minutes and
 the drink the rest of my miso soup. You are done too and fold your napkin. There is still like three or four
 slices on your plate. And your soup is half full. And you rice has not been touched. You have gone through two
 or three bottles of saki though.
	Nothing is more simultaneously amusing and depressing that the charade of a drug addict pretending to
 eat. I wonder if you feel sick. I wonder what drugs you are on. I look at your collar bones through your shirt
 and cheekbones, and I am sure probably every other bone later tonight.
	You ask if I want the rest of yours or are still hungry for anything else, and I say no. So we light up and
 smoke while we wait for the check.
	So, what on earth should we do for the rest of the evening?í I ask you with tired enthusiasm in my voice.
	Lets just walk. So indefinite, so open. That was just like you.
	We walk along the store fronts and look in but not really seeing. We huddle together because it has
 become quite cold. At the end of 3rd street a man with a key board plays and sings Frank Sinatra.
	Lets stop and listen.í I pull your arm and we sit on a bench off to the side and smoke.
	I want to hear ëCome Fly With Me, tell him. And you walk to him and tell him.
	This is my favorite Sinatra song. And we sit in, huddled together, long after the song stops and the next
 one comes on.
	We could get into a lot of trouble together.í You have often told this to me and I am never quite sure if you mean trouble together or with other people.
	I have been in this exact moment a hundred other times with you. Again, the scheming script:
	So what if I called you and I had a different name, like Miranda or Judith or whatever. And then I said I know so and so and she said that we would really hit it off and we should go out. And we could first date as other people. Totally different people that we could create. Like I would be a
veterinary assistant and you would be a gynecologist named Carlo.í You laughed.
	And then it would be like date rape you know. It would totally be hot.í I was getting into this, ha this would be funny and definitely not boring. And then we would go out, as Carlo and Miranda, and go to dinner and the movies or whatever. Then you would invite me over for a coffee and I would accept because you were so romantic and charming and witty and talk talk. Then after the coffee you would drink a few scotches and start coming on really heavy. And like touching me. And then I would get all upset and tell you stop like five times and then threaten to leave and then you get forceful. I make a break for the door and then you stop me and rape.í
	One question. Why would a gynecologist be living in a studio apartment in Santa Monica?í He laughs. Cause his mansion is being renovated. I donít fucking know. Think big picture. Think rape scene. Think trapped against the wall of your apartment with my arms pinned down by your arms. And Iím wearing a white dress with a black purse.You contemplate this and laugh. ëMe and you could get into a lot of trouble. But I think you already know that.í
	We sit and talk out other schemes, other worlds and lives that are far from our own.Well, Iíll tell you a
 scheme.í You lean in closer. ëWell, you know the guy at the bar, the one that is always there, blond hair,
 maybe light brown. Light eyes and good teeth with a different girl on his arm every night of
the week. Picks fights and rips people off. Has an expensive new truck but hardly works. Great house great
room mates and tons of friends. The guy whose ass everyone kisses.í
	Named Chris or Nick or Tyler or Tony. Yeah, sure those guys are fucking everywhere.Well, we go to the
 bar and find him, Chris, Nick, Tyler Or Tony. Then we lure him back to the car, drug him with rufies, take him
 back with us, then strip him down and leave him all naked in Mexico or San Franís gay bars or whatever.
	Thatís very good, very trouble.í You smile that lets me know this is a good idea.Not really revenge
 oriented, more just for kicks.Yeah, for kicks. You stop and think.We stop talking and listen to Sinatra some
more. Come Fly With Me comes on again.
So which bar do we find him a. Hook, line and sinker. I do believe the contestant has entered into the first
round.The Yucatan.He nods and smiles in agreement.

	So we go out that night, a Friday night. And I really do look fantastic. And we park in the very far back of
 the lot, under a tree where no one can see us. We take your big black truck, for storage of the body
purposes.And tonite I wear a red dress. Blood red. Short and sweet, you can see me across the crowded
bar.And so al night I am talking to different guys, and you watch from across the room, waiting for me to hook
 just the right one. And I will say to him lets have a drink together, along, in my truck. And raise my eyebrows
and lick my lips or fucking whatever to lure this guy back.I am at the bar for like thirty minutes and I head back
 to you.Well, did you get one yet? No theyíre all too nice, I need one that's a real ass.I thought this isn't about
 revenge?
	I look at you dead cold in the eyes, no emotion just plain truth: Well, maybe it is.You just stare back at
 me.I smile and break this tension. Babe, letís go back to the truck and have a drink and a cig. I need a break.
 You grab my hand and we walk out. The night is cold, so we walk fast and you hold me close to your ribby
 chest.
	We get into your truck and light a cigarette. I open the large duffel bag and take out a bottle of Jagermeuster and break the seal. I open a little cooler and pour it into a glass with cloudy ice cubes.For you
 babe.I fix myself one, sans the ice. We sit in silence for a good ten minutes.
	You sip and talk. ëI really like you. I donít know why I do the things I do to you. I donít talk, I just listen.
	ëI am really sorry for the way I treat you sometimes, I really donít know why I do it.í Your voice is
 slurring just a bit. God, I feel drunk, and this is only my second drink. I smile. I just want you to know that I want to be your friend. We can be good friends Yes, I am sure we can.
Your head begins to nod.What the fuck, did you put sommmmeeething in here? You swing your head around at
 me. I smile.
 No you couldnít haaaaaaave. You broke the seal.
	Yes, I broke the seal.
	How thinning?
	The ice cubes, friend. In the ice, dear sweet good friend.í I smile again.
	The ruuuufies?
	Yes, and the cyanide,í I say with a genuine smile this time.
	The cyyyyyyyanide, there was no cyaaaaaaaaanideí Then you get it but are
paralyzed. And you canít hold your head any longer and it lazily flops to the head rest.
	Friend, lover, I was poison from the beginning.í

title: This is a story a girlfriend wrote about me where she kills me. I love it.

question: What does the story say about the name of the girl?

question: Summarize the relationship between the narrator and the guy she was with.

answer: The narrator and the guy she was with seem to be dating on and off. They wouldn't see or talk to one another for six months and suddenly bump into each other in some bizarre place. Their conversations would always grow stale when they're together, which is why they always end up apart. When they go out on dates, it's always the same sushi place. In the words of the narrator, they could be friends with benefits. The narrator would often discuss different role-playing scenarios with the guy, where they would have different names, jobs, and personas. One of her fantasies is a date rape, where he forces himself on her.

question: Describe the guy the narrator was with.

answer: The guy had short hair dyed black and appears to be thin because his collar bones are showing. His voice has a slightly effeminate quality to it with exaggerated ups and downs. According to the narrator, the guy is a self-absorbed, emotionally void prick and drug addict. He can't look anyone in the eyes while he's talking. The narrator thinks it's a habit he got from doing drugs. Despite this, the narrator thinks he's gorgeous, with light green eyes and light skin.

question: Summarize the climactic end of the story.

answer: The narrator comes up with a scheme to kidnap and drug the guy who's always at the bar with a new girl each week. The guy has blonde or light brown hair, light eyes, and good teeth. He's the one who always picks fights and rips people off, but is worshipped by everyone. The typical alpha male. The narrator wants to put a roofie in his drink, drag him to Mexico, and leave him there naked. She says it is just a prank, not revenge. The narrator's on and off guy agrees to her plan and they take his truck for the kidnapping scheme. During the night of their plan, they go to a bar, but every male the narrator flirts with is too nice. They go outside to his truck for a smoke and she offers her guy friend a drink, placing two cloudy ice cubes into his glass. He was her target all along. But this wasn't a prank. The ice cubes not only contained roofies, but also cyanide. She planned to poison her guy, succeeded. The poor guy didn't have a clue and was confused till the bitter end.