by Toni Morrison


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They shoot the white girl first. With the rest they can take their time.” So begins Toni Morrison’s Paradise, which opens with a horrifying scene of mass violence and chronicles its genesis in an all-black small town in rural Oklahoma. Founded by the descendants of freed slaves and survivors in exodus from a hostile world, the patriarchal community of Ruby is built on righteousness, rigidly enforced moral law, and fear. But seventeen miles away, another group of exiles has gathered in a promised land of their own. And it is upon these women in flight from death and despair that nine male citizens of Ruby will lay their pain, their terror, and their murderous rage.
            In prose that soars with the rhythms, grandeur, and tragic arc of an epic poem, Toni Morrison challenges our most fiercely held beliefs as she weaves folklore and history, memory and myth into an unforgettable meditation on race, religion, gender, and a far-off past that is ever present. 

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780804169882
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Publication date: 03/11/2014
Series: Vintage International Series
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 41,247
Product dimensions: 5.10(w) x 7.90(h) x 0.80(d)

About the Author

Toni Morrison is the author of eleven novels, from The Bluest Eye (1970) to God Help the Child (2015). She received the National Book Critics Circle Award, the Pulitzer Prize, and in 1993 she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. She died in 2019.


Princeton, New Jersey, and Manhattan

Date of Birth:

February 18, 1931

Date of Death:

August 5, 2019

Place of Birth:

Lorain, Ohio

Place of Death:

New York


Howard University, B.A. in English, 1953; Cornell, M.A., 1955

Read an Excerpt

Excerpted from the Foreword


The story goes like this. My grandfather attended school for one day in order to tell the teacher he wouldn’t be back because he had to work. His older sister, he said, would teach him to read. It was one of those details that surface in family lore but it wasn’t long before I wondered where was this “school”? He was born in 1864, a year after the Emancipation Proclamation. Where would a school be in the mid-nineteenth century in rural Alabama? In a church basement? Beneath trees out in the woods? Who was this daring, revolutionary teacher? The location would have to be hidden because black people’s access to education in general and reading specifically was violently discouraged and, in most of the South, teaching African Americans to read had been illegal. Virginia law, in 1831, is instructive and representative. “Any white person assembling to instruct free Negroes to read or write shall be fined not over $50.00 also be imprisoned not exceeding two months.” “It is further enacted that if any white person for pay shall assemble with slaves for the purpose of teaching them to read or write he shall for each offense be fined at the discretion of the justice . . .” ten to one hundred dollars. In short, there would be no teaching, paid or unpaid, of free Negroes or slaves without penalty. Any teacher would have to be aware of the risk he or she was taking.

Nevertheless, my grandfather’s sister was successful because against all odds, he did become literate. The next question was how would he use that skill? What was there for him to read? Books on that poor little  farm in Greenville, Alabama? Unlikely. Library? Certainly not. But there was one book available: the Bible. Which is why, I suppose, that among his legendary accomplishments was his boast that he had read the King James Version of the Bible cover to cover five times.

Reading and script writing were prized in my family not only for information and pleasure but also as a defiant political act since historically so much effort had been used to keep us from learning. My mother joined the Literary Guild in the 1940s.We subscribed to newspapers devoted exclusively to African American news and opinions. Issues of The Pittsburgh Courier  and the Cleveland Call and Post were worn to shreds with multiple readings and readers. Like other ethnic newspapers ours elicited passionate commentary, questions, argument. We poured over J. A. Rogers’ work, Du Bois’ Souls of Black Folk  and whatever we could find that encouraged and informed us about being black in America.

It was inevitable, therefore, that when I edited The Black Book,  a complex record of African American life that I solicited from collectors, the earliest newspapers would fascinate me, especially the “colored” ones. There, in photographs and print so much African American history— sad, ironic, resistant, tragic, proud, and triumphant— was on display. Of particular interest were those printed in the nineteenth century when my grandfather spent his few minutes at school. I learned there were some fifty black newspapers produced in the Southwest following Emancipation and the violent displacement of Native Americans from Oklahoma Territory. The opportunity to establish black towns was as feverish as the rush for whites to occupy the land. The “colored” newspapers encouraged the rush and promised a kind of paradise to the newcomers: land, their own government, safety— there were even sustained movements to establish their own state.

One theme in particular in those papers intrigued me. Prominent in their headlines and articles was a clear admonition: Come Prepared or Not at All.

Implicit in those warnings were two commands: 1) If you have nothing, stay away. 2) This new land is Utopia for a few. Translation: no poor former slaves are welcome in the paradise being built here.  What could that mean for ex- slaves— threatened, exhausted refugees with no resources? How would they feel having trekked all that way from chains into freedom only to be told, “This here is Paradise but you can’t come in.” I also noticed that the town leaders in the photographs were invariably light- skinned men. Was skin privilege also a feature of the separation? One that replicated the white racism they abhorred?

I wanted to dig into these matters by exploring the reverse; exclusivity by the very black- skinned; construction of their very own “gated community,” one that refused entrance to the mixed race. Considering the need for progeny in order to last, how would patriarchy play and how might matriarchy threaten? In order to describe and explore these questions I needed 1) to examine the definition of paradise, 2) to delve into the power of colorism, 3) to dramatize the conflict between patriarchy and matriarchy, and 4) disrupt racial discourse altogether by signaling then erasing it.

The idea of paradise is no longer imaginable or, rather, it is over-imagined, which amounts to the same thing— and has therefore become familiar, commercialized, even trivial. Historically, the images of paradise in poetry and prose were intended to be grand but accessible, beyond the routine but imaginatively graspable, seductive as though remembered. Milton speaks of “goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit, Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue . . . with gay enameled colours mixed . . . ; of Native perfumes.” Of “that sapphire fount the crisped brooks, Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold . . .” of “nectar visiting each plant, and fed flowers worthy of Paradise . . .Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm; Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind, Hung amiable, . . . of delicious taste. Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks Grazing the tender herb.” “Flowers of all hue and without thorn the rose.” “Caves of cool recess, o’er which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape and gently creeps Luxuriant . . .”

That beatific, luxurious expanse we recognize in the twenty- first century as bounded real estate owned by the wealthy and envied by the have- nots, or as gorgeous parks visited by tourists. Milton’s Paradise is quite available these days, if not in fact certainly as ordinary, unexceptionable desire. Modern paradise has four of Milton’s characteristics: beauty, plenty, rest, exclusivity. Eternity seems to be forsworn.

Beauty is benevolent, controllable nature combined with precious metal, mansions, finery, and jewelry.

Plenty in a world of excess and attending greed, which tilts resources to the rich and forces others to envy, is an almost obscene feature of a contemporary paradise. In this world of outrageous, shameless wealth squatting, hulking, preening before the dispossessed, the very idea of “plenty” as Utopian ought to make us tremble. Plenty should not be understood as a paradise- only state, but as normal, everyday, humane life.

Rest that is the respite from labor or fighting for rewards or luxury has dwindling currency these days. It is a desire- less- ness that suggests a special kind of death without dying. Rest can suggest isolation, a vacation without pleasant or soothing activity. In other words, punishment and/or willful laziness.

Exclusivity, however is still an attractive, even compelling feature of paradise because so many people— the unworthy— are not there. Boundaries are secure, watchdogs, security systems, and gates are there to verify the legitimacy of the inhabitants. Such enclaves separate from crowded urban areas proliferate. Thus it does not seem possible or desirable for a city to be envisioned let alone built in which poor people can be accommodated. Exclusivity is not just a realized dream for the wealthy; it is a popular yearning of the middle class. “Streets” are understood to be populated by the unworthy, the dangerous. Young people strolling are understood to be prowling the streets and up to no good. Public space is fought over as if it were private. Who gets to enjoy a park, a beach, a street corner? The term “public” is itself a site of contention.

Eternity, which avoids the pain of dying again, is rendered null by secular, scientific arguments; yet it has nevertheless the greatest appeal. Medical and scientific resources are directed toward more life and fitter life and remind us that the desire is for earthbound eternity, rather than eternal afterlife. The implication being that this is all there is.

Thus, paradise, as an earthly project as opposed to a heavenly one  has serious intellectual and visual limitations. Aside from “Only me or us forever” heavenly paradise hardly bears mention.

But that might be unfair. It is hard not to notice how much more attention is given to hell rather than heaven. Dante’s Inferno beats out Paradisio every time. Milton’s brilliantly rendered pre- paradise world, known as Chaos, is far more fully realized than his Paradise. The visionary language of the doomed reaches heights of linguistic ardor with which language of the blessed and saved cannot compete. There were reasons for the images of the horrors of hell to be virulently repulsive in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The argument for avoiding hell needed to be visceral, needed to reveal how much worse such an eternity was than the hell of everyday life. That was when paradise was simply the absence of evil— an edgeless already recognizable landscape: great trees for shade and fruit, lawns, palaces, precious metals, animal husbandry, and jewelry. Other than outwitting evil, waging war against the unworthy, there seems to be nothing for the inhabitants of paradise to do. An open, borderless, come-one-come-all paradise, without dread, minus a nemesis is no paradise at all.

Notable in Milton’s Paradise is the absence of women. Eve alone is given the most prominent space in that place. Progeny apparently is not required since there will always be more blessed to enter. Also, besides care-taking, what is there for women to do?

Because the paradise the black newspapers envisioned not so subtlety encouraged light- skinned applicants, a major excitement for me in writing Paradise  was an effort to disrupt the assumptions of racial discourse. I was eager to manipulate, mutate and control imagistic, metaphoric language in order to produce something that could be called race- specific/race- free prose, language that deactivated the power of racially inflected strategies— transform them from the straitjacket a race- conscious society can, and frequently does, buckle us into— a refusal to “know” characters or people by the color of their skin. One of the most malevolent characteristics of racist thought is that it never produces new knowledge. It seems able to merely reformulate and refigure itself in multiple but static assertions. It has no referent in the material world, like the concept of black blood or white  blood or blue blood, it is designed to construct artificial borders and maintain them against all reason and all evidence to the contrary. And while racist thought and language have an almost unmitigated force in political and social life, the realm of racial difference has been allowed an intellectual weight to which it has no claim. It is truly a realm that is no realm at all— an all- consuming vacancy that is both common and strange.

Material relating to the black towns founded by African Americans in the nineteenth century provided a rich field for an exploration of race- specific/race- free language. I am aware of how whiteness matures and ascends the throne of universalism by maintaining its powers to describe and enforce its descriptions. To challenge that view of universalism, to exorcise, alter, and de- fang the white/black confrontation and concentrate on the residue of that hostility seemed to me a daunting project and an artistically liberating one.

“They shoot the white girl first. With the rest they can take their time.”

With these opening sentences I wanted to signal 1) the presence of race as hierarchy and 2) its collapse as reliable information. The novel places an all- black community, one chosen by its inhabitants, next to a raceless one, also chosen by its inhabitants. The grounds for traditional black vs. white hostilities shift to the nature of exclusion, the origins of chauvinism, the sources of oppression, assault, and slaughter. The black town of Ruby is all about its own race— preserving it, developing myths of origin, and maintaining its purity. In the Convent race is indeterminate— all racial codes are eliminated, deliberately withheld. For some readers this was disturbing and some admitted to being preoccupied with finding out which character was the “white girl”; others wondered initially and then abandoned the question; some ignored the confusion by reading them all as black. The perceptive ones read them as fully realized individuals— whatever their race. Unconstrained by the weary and wearying vocabulary of racial domination, the narrative seeks to un-encumber itself from the limit that racial language imposes on the imagination. The conflicts are gender- related and generational. They are struggles over history— who will tell and thereby control the story of the past? Who will shape the future? There  are conflicts of value, of ethics. Of personal identity. What is manhood? Womanhood? And finally what is personhood?

Raising these questions seemed most compelling when augmented by yearnings for freedom and safety; for plenitude, for rest, for beauty; by the search for one’s own space, for respect, love, bliss— in short, how to re-imagine paradise. Not the “Come Prepared or Not at All” command to make sure you get a ticket before you enter a theme park; but an interrogation into the narrow imagination that conceived and betrayed paradise.

We called him Big Papa. He stood in the vegetable garden peeling a yam with his pocketknife. Then he ate the raw slices slowly, carefully. If he wanted the chair you were in, he stood there, silent, looking at the sitter until you got the message and got up. He was too religious for any church. He drew pictures of my sister and me and gave us the gift of chewing gum. Wherever he was— on the porch, at the kitchen table, in the garden, in the living room reading— that’s where the power and deference were. He didn’t exert power; he assumed it. And it was in part from knowing him that I felt I could understand and create the men in Ruby— their easy assumption of uncontested authority.

Big Papa. A survivor. Eccentric, formidable, playful, stubborn, learned.

He left me his violin.

—Toni Morrison

Reading Group Guide

1. Why has Toni Morrison chosen to use the poem "for many are the pleasant forms..." as an epigraph for this novel?

2. Why is the Oven such an important symbol for the people of Ruby? What is implied in the various phrases which different groups in Ruby want to inscribe upon it? Soane believes that the Oven has become too important a symbol: "A utility became a shrine (cautioned against not only in scary Deuteronomy but in lovely Corinthians II as well) and, like anything that offended Him, destroyed its own self" (103). Is she right? Does this indeed come to pass?

3. How has the history of Ruby (and Haven before it) shaped the nature of the town in the 1970s? What did "freedom" mean to the original settlers? What varying views of freedom do the modern inhabitants of Ruby hold?

4. Each of the young women living at the Convent is in some way lost. Why does each feel so entirely friendless? What caused Gigi's feeling of hopelessness? What about Pallas? Do you believe that Mavis's children were really trying to harm her, or did she imagine this?

5. "Almost always, these nights, when Dovey Morgan thought about her husband it was in terms of what he had lost" (82). She adds up some of Steward's losses: his taste buds, the election for church Secretary, the trees on his land, and his discovery that he and Dovey could not have children. What has Steward lost in a larger, more symbolic sense: which of the convictions of the earlier generation he so admires has he himself lost sight of? What do his feelings about his brother Elder's defense of a Liverpool whore (94-95) tell us about his character? Can you see, early in the novel, intimations of what we discover at the end: that Steward and Deacon are essentially different?

6. Who is Dovey's "Friend" and why is he so important to her?

7. The conservative elements in Ruby ultimately find it impossible to keep the impact of the Sixties from affecting their town. What "Sixties" ideas turn out to be the most powerful, the most resonant, for the people of Ruby? Do these ideas destroy the town's social cohesion or give it new strength?

8. What new ways of thinking does Richard Misner represent, and how is he received by the people of Ruby? When Patricia tells him that "Slavery is our past" (212), he insists that "We live in the world....The whole world." Which of them is right? What does Misner mean when he says he thinks the people of Ruby love their children "to death" (212)?

9. "Who could have imagined," think the men who attack the Convent, "that twenty-five years later in a brand-new town a Convent would beat out the snakes, the Depression, the tax man and the railroad for sheer destructive power?" (17). It is clear that the Convent, and the harmless women who have taken refuge there, are not destructive. What is the destructive element in Ruby, and what is it destroying?

10. "Minus the baptisms the Oven had no real value," Soane reflects. (103). What did these baptisms at the Oven symbolize, and how does their removal to the church change Ruby? At the Convent, the women dance in rain and reconcile themselves, finally, to the tragedies in their lives (283). Why does Morrison use, here, the imagery of baptism? Does she imply that this dance is a true baptism; that the Convent has achieved a more genuine spirit of community than the town?

11. What are the circumstances of the death of Ruby, K.D.'s mother, and what effect does the manner of this death have upon on the character of the town that is named after her? What is the "bargain" or "prayer in the form of a deal" (114) that is struck after her death, and who strikes it?

12. Why does Sweetie make for the Convent when she finds herself at the breaking point? Why does she then try to get away from the Convent, and then tell the people of Ruby that the women there are evil?

13. In what ways does the wedding of Arnette and K.D. symbolize the current state of affairs in Ruby?

14. What does the school nativity play tell us about the way Ruby sees itself and mythologizes itself?

15. Is it fair to say that the people of Ruby have perpetuated racism in the town that was supposed to be a haven from it? If so, in what does the town's racism consist?

16. Why does Patricia burn all her research on the history of the Ruby and Haven families?

17. What does Consolata mean when she says "Dear Lord, I didn't want to eat him. I just wanted to go home" (240)? What sort of home does she long for, and why does she associate it with Deacon? Who is the Piedade to whose company Consolata returns after her death (321)? What is the meaning of Consolata's vision on p. 254?

18. How does the death of Sweetie and Jeff's daughter Save-Marie subtly change Ruby? What sort of a future do you envision for the town? Is it possible to see the murders at the Convent as ultimately helping Ruby to evolve and to survive?

19. What do you think lies behind the door or window that Anna and Misner notice as they leave the Convent? Why do they choose not to open it?

20. What is the meaning of the novel's title? What does Paradise mean within the context of the book? "How exquisitely human was the wish for permanent happiness, and how thin human imagination became trying to achieve it," thinks Misner. Does Morrison imply that it is impossible to create a paradise on earth?

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Paradise 4.2 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 70 reviews.
LCordero More than 1 year ago
Nobel Prize winner Toni Morrison's Paradise is not only a story of the tragedies of an overlooked history, but the spiritual and physical powers within a community. However, Paradise is not a mere social justice statement; it serves, instead, a higher purpose. With the publication of this novel and several others, Morrison was able to actively engage the power of the individual voice and link together the cultural spheres that define it. Although religiously and spiritually powerful, one of the novel's primary focuses were themes of isolation, separation, and their operation within a social structure. By dictionary definition, a paradise is "a place of extreme beauty, delight, or happiness." Perhaps such paradise does not exist in separation of one's own mind. A "paradise," after all, is made up of those who do not exist within it. Power successfully encapsulates the idea of achieving primal bliss in congruence with the idea of separation and isolation. However, most importantly, it raises the question: can good (idea of perfect paradise) exist without the influence of evil (human sin)? In tackling a social, moral movement, Morrison has gravely insinuated that perhaps, one reaches paradise only after one has accepted the fatality of collective sin separate from the individual's potential.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I bought this book years ago in my twenties and put it down because it appeared to be too complicated . But I found it now in my thirties and I find it brillant , I can't put it down
mpaige on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This story's setting is in the fictitious town of Ruby, Oklahoma, the only all-black town in the state. Nearby, four women have come together and live in the "convent" not far from town. When the town suffers internal strife, the people look for a cause, and come to the conclusion that it must be the four women in the convent that are the cause of the tumult.
booklove2 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I liked this very much. Possibly the Morrison book I liked best. There are probably a lot of biblical metaphors I'm still not getting, just like Toni Morrison's other books, but I think I could understand this book better. This is very good. Morrison won the Nobel Prize for a reason. This is the story of an ex-slave town that had to relocate (but some of them were also ex-lieutenant governors, they were not just ex-slaves, which is very bizarre to me. Ex-slaves were allowed to be lieutenant governors but that went downhill yet again when even more racism fired up. They weren't given so much power again for a long time. ) On their way, they tried to stay at a town with people that were not '8-rock' (a way for one character to describe how pure black the town is) and were rejected. They realized that not only were whites racist, but so were other black folk to shades of skin different than their own. When they eventually found their new home, the town of Ruby is unaccepting of anyone, until inevitable tragedy. Also near the town is an old convent, a house of women, that are trying to escape the brutality of the world, just like Ruby.There is much brutality, like any Toni Morrison book, but how can that be avoidable with such subject matter? There is just something in the way of the little details that make the story (ie: the words "Furrow of His Brow" on a community oven and how people in the town interpret what it means, and the many meanings that only Morrison could show it has). Everything ties together amazingly well. I also liked that at least one woman at the convent is white, which we learn on the first page, but we are never told which woman it is. It is so important to the characters, but Morrison is saying it shouldn't be for the reader, I think. It isn't shoved in your face : "This woman is black. This woman is white." The women's problems are universal and deserve sympathy that the town of Ruby never gives them. What happened to the town of Ruby wasn't right, but neither was their unacceptance of anyone else. They did the same and worse and ultimately became what they were trying to avoid.
plenilune on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
why i loved this book:some of the most beautiful poetic language ever used in fiction, and always intrinsic to the development of the novel, particularly in the creation of atmosphere. well-plotted out and interspersed with the legends and history of a people. a wealth of genuine and varied characters, many of whom you grow to care about despite their flaws.a lovely and perfectly rendered open ending.
andreablythe on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
"They shoot the white girl first. With the rest they can take their time." These powerful first lines set up this beautifully written and complex novel that explores what utopia means and the cost required to maintain it. Ruby is a small town, founded by black families who persevered through the roughest of times to make a home for themselves away from the threat of whites and the shame of being rejected by other blacks. Built 90 miles from anywhere, Ruby has been able to preserve and protect itself from the influence of the outside world, in addition to creating a complex mythology around its founding that sustains it. The families live in peace without threat of violence, drugs, television, or the miscreant behavior of mistreated children. Meanwhile, far on the outskirts of this small town is the Convent, once the home of nuns aiming to plant a seed of culture in young native girls, is now a last refuge for lost women, who have been shattered by their lives. Each reach the Convent, one way or another, by accident, and intending to stay only a few days, end up staying years. The novel interweaves the history of Ruby and its founding families and the lives of these women, and true to Morrison's style, nothing is simple, not people, or towns, or history, or stories. One of the things I remember from when I first read it in class was the question of who the "white girl" was. Race is an important question in the book, or I should say, it's an important question and focus for the townsfolk of Ruby, who pride themselves on being dark-skinned blacks, as opposed to the light skinned blacks who rejected them, not to mention the whites they were trying to escape and avoid. However, among the women who live at the Convent, the story is different. Race is less of an issue, and Morisson never makes it clear who the "white girl" is, and though we spent a lot of time in class trying to debating it, in the end, I think perhaps it doesn't matter, because these women (after a long false start), began to create a kind of paradise for themselves that was not at all built on race, but on something else entirely. Paradise is a rich, complex book with rich, complex write that you could pick up 50 times and come away with something new each time. It requires a certain amount of focus, of paying attention to get through, but it is absolutely worth the effort, and is a beautiful read.
MarkKeeffe on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I didn't like this book at all. I couldn't follow the storyline and couldn't follow what the sequence of events were. The story jumps around so much that I couldn't keep track of the relationships and connections between people and places and times. Perhaps if I had ever spent some time in America and the American culture I might have understood the attitudes and motivations of the characters. However I could see little or inadequate reason or motivation for the terrible crime around which the novel is based. Perhaps Toni Morrison's other books will explain her high prizes but this one I had to force myself to finish.
liehtzu on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I love Morrison's prose; pure Americana, ironically. But as for her observations into African-American culture (with a cutting, sharp eye permitted only to an insider) she is unsurpassable!
caymil on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Although I found the premise of the story interesting, I found the writing of it boring and difficult to get into. I almost quit reading it numerous times, but then I would come to a part that held some interest and I would fool myself into thinking that this was where the story would live up to its potential and the book would get good. In the end I really couldn't say that I enjoyed the book at all, or that the effort of struggling through it was worth it. Obvously many other readers have enjoyed this book so maybe it just was not my advice would be that if you find that you are forcing yourself to read it, don't bother. Just put it down and get on to better things.
karinehart on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
A stirring novel. One of America's best authors at the top of her game!
Crowyhead on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is one of my favorite Toni Morrison novels. It's eerie, and at once both realistic and fabulous.
shan2001 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Morrison requires you to work with her novels. And this is one where she really requires you to work with it. If you don't want to engage with a novel, then don't read Morrison. All in all, this was a unique, haunting story of prejudice, hatred, passion, love. As well as an often-downplayed critique of Christianity and patriarchy (if you're into that kind of stuff). What's funny is that Morrison will swear up and down that she's not a feminist, but so much of her work says otherwise. Not in that she 'dogs' men, but in her overwhelming concern for women. Many of her novels provide a critique of racist, patriarchal systems; and this novel is made richer for it. I also call Paradise, as well as Beloved, Morrison's "horror" novels. They're both pretty disturbing, creepy, and haunting.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
"I am not having any fun!"
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
She walked in with JT and kissed his cheek
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Walked around the camp
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Hello. Im icestar the other clan that is in a pact with skyclan. I just wanted to het to know your clan. We r at 'into the west' res 1
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
He dipped his head. "Thank you!" He sat and ate a mouse quietly.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Spike sat gazing up at the figure. Suddenly Twilight ran upstairs. Spike pointed at the shadowy pony. Twilight couldnt see ut." What is it, Spike? You look like youve seen a ghost. Finally Spike managed to choke out some words." Its right there, dont you see it?" Twilight gave him a concerned look."Uh, Spike? Are you okay?" Spike shrugged." I- i dont know." He stuttered. The figure was watching him from the corner of the room. He could see its red eyes glaring at him. Twilight went back downstairs." Girls, somethings wrong with Spike. He seems to be seeing things." Everypony paniced. <p> meanwhile... <p> Spike started sweating as the mysterious pony crept twords him. Finally he could see what it looked like. It was a black stallion with red eyes. His mane was the color of blood. Fangs shone as a evil grin crept across the stallions face. He could hear the ponys panicing downstairs. He would have ran down to see what was wrong, but their voices were muffled, seeming distant. He stood, frozen in fear. His green eyes widened as the stallion opened his mouth and leaned forward to bite him...
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Lolz i oederd a drink called skinny gil on thebeach well he took it seriously(:^_^
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
*Lays wearing a bikini.*
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
No sorry...i dont think it is at least...
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Darkleaf forestheart darklight foreststorm darkmint forestwhisker.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago