酷我-北美枫

[星子]

http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/ContentServer?pagename=thestar/Render&c=Page&cid=994241320037

and the first place winning story is:

First-place winner: The House Stalker, by Danielle Urquhart
It unnerved me to open the front door in the morning and lock eyes with him


DANIELLE URQUHART

I must have seen the man a dozen times without properly seeing him. If he hadn't always been in the same spot, leaning on a parking meter across the street from my house, I doubt I'd have noticed him at all. Cabbagetown has its share of characters and since the man didn't preach, holler or hit me up for change, he simply blended into the landscape.

One morning, I looked through the blinds to check the weather. The street was as chaotic as ever but my eye edited out the traffic and zoomed in on him. He gazed back at the house, black eyes staring through a fringe of red hair, body molded to the meter like cookie dough. He paid no attention to the cars and people passing him, just watched the house like it was a television. He was there the next day. And the next. It unnerved me to open the front door in the morning and lock eyes with him. I'd come home from work and sometimes he'd be still there. I never saw him arrive or leave.

One day, I looked out and he was on my side of the street, right outside the little iron gate, staring at my window. The shock made me choke on a bagel. When the coughs subsided, I grabbed the phone:

"Kev? It's Brian. He's closer. Right outside the gate now. What if I pull up the shades tomorrow and he's pressed up against the glass?"

Kevin gave a rusty laugh.

"You woke me up, man. Give us a sec — you're referring to parking meter guy?"

"Now known as front gate man, yes."

"Creepy. Maybe you should go out and ask what he wants."

"I've considered it but I don't want to engage him. It might figuratively open a door, you know?"

"What I don't get is why anyone would watch you," said Kev. "No offence, but the guy'd get more drama out of an aquarium. Unless you've got a Mr. Hyde side I don't know about?"

"I sometimes return DVDs late," I said. "But that doesn't merit a stalker."

"At least your guy is exterior. I'll trade you parking meter man for my brother Gareth. He's taken up root here and the degree to which my apartment smells of feet and Doritos you would not believe. Hang on ... mutually beneficial plan forming."

"What?"

"What if I send Gareth over to your place today to spy on the guy? He can lurk in the bushes with his camcorder. That way you'll know what the guy does when you're not there.

"But will Gareth want to do it?"

"If I hide the remote, he will. Lying on my couch, lying in your bushes. Same difference. Invite Bridget over and we'll watch the tape tonight."

I felt highly self-conscious passing the guy to get to the streetcar. It was like walking onstage. But his eyes remained fixed on the house and he didn't spare me a glance. When I got home that evening, he was gone and there was no sign of Gareth. But a tape had been pushed through the mailbox.

"So what are we watching?" asked Bridget and was not pleased with my answer.

"You've got to be kidding me. Eight hours of Gerrard Street? I'd rather sit through Waterworld again."

"We'll fast-forward until something happens," said Kev.

It was an odd tape to watch. Parking meter man stood rock still as speeded up walkers and drivers glitched by him. It was as if he existed in a separate stratum of time from everything around him.

"Gareth's keeping his arm steady," said Bridget.

"Years of Nintendo paying off," said Kev. "Look. He's on the move. Rewind!"

The man crossed the street, cutting off a streetcar.

"That's quite the intense focus he has," said Bridget. "He's staring right at the camera. Has he seen Gareth?"

"That's the same spot he always stares at," I said. The man paused outside the gate.

"Looks like he's settled there," said Kev, but at that moment the man moved again and was in my yard.

"Don't like this," I said.

"Poor Gareth. How unnerving," said Bridget.

"He's heading away from Gareth," said Kev. "Towards your backyard. Maybe he just uses or deals back there. That's the most obvious — "

The camera followed the man around the side of the house. Gareth, unused to moving with such dispatch, contributed some heavy breathing to the soundtrack.

"Sounds like a horror movie," said Bridget. "Are we heading for a confrontation?"

But showing unexpected stealth, Gareth concealed himself under a pine tree. There was a minute or so of flapping branches before the man was in view again. And what we saw rendered even Kev speechless.

"What is he doing?" I finally said.

"Honey, I don't think words have been coined for what he's doing," said Bridget.

"He's charging the wall," I said, puzzled. "He can't be trying to climb it, can he?"

"That's not what's going on there," said Kev. "Let's not mince words. That man is embracing your house."

"He is not," I said. "Who embraces a brick wall?"

Kevin was firm.

"He's doing to your house what I wanted to do to Brenda Foley all through Grade 11."

"At least he's fully clothed," said Bridget, in what I think was intended to be a consoling voice.

"Even so," said Kev. "Folks, I think we're witnessing a new frontier of romance here."

"I seem to recall you crossing that same frontier with our couch at McGill," said Bridget.

"The couch and I shared the purest of platonic loves," said Kev, sternly. "Crikey. He's not stopping any time soon, is he?" The man continued to plaster himself against the house.

"I can't watch," I said and put my head in my hands.

"You know, if his passion extends to asphalt this might explain that pothole at the bottom of your driveway," said Bridget.

"Stop seeing the humour in this."

"No look, Brian, he's had enough. He's going," said Kev. "Typical male, right, Bridgie? Not even a cuddle for the house afterwards."

"That's a wrap," came Gareth's voice on the soundtrack and the screen turned to fuzz.

We looked at each other.

"I stand corrected," said Bridget. "That was much better than Waterworld. Oscars all around."

"But, what the hell do I do?" I said. "Tell the cops?"

"Yes," said Bridget.

"Sure," said Kev. "They work hard. They deserve a good laugh as much as anybody."

"You're not funny," I said.

"Look, tell you what," said Kev. "Tomorrow, I'll get Gareth to follow the guy home. If he lives in a halfway house or something, we could let the staff know. They could tighten his curfew or perimeter or whatnot."

"And I'll see what Robin thinks," said Bridget. Kev rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know what you think of Robin but psychiatry is his area of expertise —"

"Robin thinks everything is his area of expertise," said Kev.

"Regardless," said Bridget, "he might have heard of a case like this before. And Brian, I order you to go to the cops. I won't sleep tonight unless you do."

So I went, tape under my arm, with a sense of profound embarrassment. The officer at the desk listened patiently to my story. A few sentences in, he stopped me:

"Red brick house? And the guy has red hair, wears a green parka?"

"You know him?"

"The lady that lived there before you used to call us in all the time."

My throat constricted.

"What did he do to her?"

"Nothing. Just stared at the house. She thought he was stalking her. I told her he'd been watching the house for years before she got there but —"

"Years?"

The cop did some mental calculation.

"Eight years, by my count. Never tries to enter the residence. Never interacts with the people who live there. But people get nervous about him and move. You might have noticed you got the house for a reasonable price; that would be why."

I found my voice again.

"Is there anything I can do about him? He's progressed beyond staring —"

"Hugging the wall?" asked the officer. I nodded.

"If you catch him in the act, call us. But apart from that, it's tricky. The lady before you took out a restraining order but it applied to her, rather than the house. And even then he continued to watch the house from across the street."

I must have looked discouraged. The cop put a friendly hand on my shoulder.

"Look, if he escalates, call us. And if he doesn't ... maybe you can learn to see him as part of the scenery."

But I couldn't. Next morning, the street seemed black and white and he was horrible Technicolour. I averted my eyes and promptly tripped over the curb.

Bridget was sitting on the steps when I got home.

"I was prepared to duke it out with him in a staring contest but he'd already left," she said. "Kev's on his way and sounds impressed with himself. Gareth's detective work must have paid off."

Kevin arrived a few minutes later. As we ate dinner, I told them what I'd learned at the police station.

"So the guy's a fixture," said Kev. "Comes with the house. So to speak."

"Who stares at a house for eight years? said Bridget, fascinated.

"Gary Groot," said Kevin. We looked at him. "That's his name. Gareth followed him home and had a look in the mailbox. He lives in Markham."

"Where men are men and the drywall is nervous," said Bridget.

"He's got a nice house of his own," said Kev. "Gareth talked to the neighbours and they said he's a quiet, unobtrusive sort."

"It makes no sense," I said. "Why would anyone commute from Markham to obsess over my house?"

"Robin has a theory," said Bridget.

"My day is made," said Kev.

"Enough, you. I think he makes a good case. What if, years ago, this guy was in a relationship with someone who lived in Brian's house? When the relationship ended, the compulsion to visit the house continued. Granted, Robin says that people usually choose smaller objects for fetishes: jewellery, photos, love letters. But perhaps this Gary fellow got stuck on the house."

"That sounds pretty dubious," said Kev.

"Spoken by someone who's never thrown out the chewed up toys of his ex-girlfriend's cat." I said. Kevin glared.

"Boys, boys," said Bridget. "Robin also has a theory on how Brian might get rid of the guy."

"I have a theory that 15 minutes of Robin's company should do the trick," said Kev. "Works on me."

"I'll try anything," I said.

"That's the right mindset," said Bridget, brightly. Too brightly.

"That sounds ominous," said Kev.

Bridget frowned at him.

"Okay, I want to explain this properly ... Robin made it sound so logical. This man is evidently very possessive of Brian's house. He fixates on it —"

"And kind of makes out with it," said Kevin.

"Right. So we need to make it clear that the house is no longer his possession, it's Brian's but we need to express this in terms that Gary Groot will understand ... "

I didn't like the sound of this. "You don't mean ... ?"

"You've got to show your ownership of the house in the same way that Gary does. Physically. Go through the same routine that we saw on the tape."

"No bloody way —"

"Now, that's a plan I can endorse," said Kev. "In fact, that's a plan I'd buy tickets for. Robin's the unheralded genius of our time. I renounce all my hard words about him."

"Don't speak too soon," said Bridget. "If Brian goes out alone and starts caressing the house, Gary might perceive it as a challenge. We don't want any locking of horns or manly fisticuffs in the front yard. But if the guy sees he's definitely outnumbered —"

"So now we all have to slow dance with the house?" groaned Kev. "No. Resounding no."

"Come on," I said. "You owe me. I've helped you move twice. Does that count for nothing? And Bridgie's on board, isn't she?"

"I gave up on shame long ago," said Bridget cheerfully. "How about Gareth for the fourth wall? We should cover the entire house."

Kevin threw up his hands in surrender.

"Fine! I call the east wall. It's the cute side."

The next day was sunny. This meant that for the first time, Gary Groot showed up to stare at the house without his parka. It also meant the street was packed with shoppers, rollerbladers and mums with baby carriages.

"So we'll be able to humiliate ourselves in front of the maximum amount of people," said Kev. "Gareth, that's not your couch. Stop drooling on it."

Gareth glared at him and put his feet on my coffee table.

"Right. Let's do it," said Bridget. "Shall we see what effect five minutes of group house-snuggling has on Gary? Everyone synchronize your watches."

Gareth and Kev held up bare wrists.

"I'm not going to be the last one left embracing the house once the rest of you have stopped," said Kev.

"I'll put on the stereo," I said. "We can go through Gary's routine for the duration of one song."

"But what's the appropriate music to shag houses by?" asked Kev.

"Rush," said Gareth from the couch. "Their early stuff."

"We have a decision," said Bridget. "No 15-minute live versions, please."

So, as the strains of "Closer To The Heart" drifted through the window, we took up our positions. Gareth was adamant that he would only take the back wall and everyone but me agreed I should take the front.

As I rubbed, clasped and otherwise embraced my house, I came to two realizations. It was damn painful to hurl myself against brick. And Torontonians truly are a polite people. All over the block passersby were stopping to stare at us but there was no laughter, no catcalls. People stood in groups and watched from a distance, like antelope on the Serengeti.

Geddy Lee's voice faded out and we all ran inside.

"Can I tell you how much I hated that?" said Kev.

"But it worked," said Bridget. "He's gone."

It's been a month now and Gary Groot hasn't returned. Oddly, my emotions are mixed. It's great not to be under constant scrutiny but I have occasional pangs of guilt. What if I took away the one thing that made this strange man happy?

"Oh, the pathos!" says Kevin. "Look, if he kept throwing himself against walls, at some point he was bound to get brained by a chunk of masonry. Consider yourself as his guardian angel against head injury."

"He's probably moved on to bigger and better things," says Bridget. "One day, we'll be walking along King St. and see him locked in an embrace with the King Eddy. How's that for a happy ending?"

I guess I can live with it.

[[ANNA]]

http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/ContentServer?pagename=thestar/Render&c=Page&cid=994241320037

and the first place winning story is:

First-place winner: The House Stalker, by Danielle Urquhart
It unnerved me to open the front door in the morning and lock eyes with him


DANIELLE URQUHART

I must have seen the man a dozen times without properly seeing him. If he hadn't always been in the same spot, leaning on a parking meter across the street from my house, I doubt I'd have noticed him at all. Cabbagetown has its share of characters and since the man didn't preach, holler or hit me up for change, he simply blended into the landscape.

One morning, I looked through the blinds to check the weather. The street was as chaotic as ever but my eye edited out the traffic and zoomed in on him. He gazed back at the house, black eyes staring through a fringe of red hair, body molded to the meter like cookie dough. He paid no attention to the cars and people passing him, just watched the house like it was a television. He was there the next day. And the next. It unnerved me to open the front door in the morning and lock eyes with him. I'd come home from work and sometimes he'd be still there. I never saw him arrive or leave.

One day, I looked out and he was on my side of the street, right outside the little iron gate, staring at my window. The shock made me choke on a bagel. When the coughs subsided, I grabbed the phone:

"Kev? It's Brian. He's closer. Right outside the gate now. What if I pull up the shades tomorrow and he's pressed up against the glass?"

Kevin gave a rusty laugh.

"You woke me up, man. Give us a sec — you're referring to parking meter guy?"

"Now known as front gate man, yes."

"Creepy. Maybe you should go out and ask what he wants."

"I've considered it but I don't want to engage him. It might figuratively open a door, you know?"

"What I don't get is why anyone would watch you," said Kev. "No offence, but the guy'd get more drama out of an aquarium. Unless you've got a Mr. Hyde side I don't know about?"

"I sometimes return DVDs late," I said. "But that doesn't merit a stalker."

"At least your guy is exterior. I'll trade you parking meter man for my brother Gareth. He's taken up root here and the degree to which my apartment smells of feet and Doritos you would not believe. Hang on ... mutually beneficial plan forming."

"What?"

"What if I send Gareth over to your place today to spy on the guy? He can lurk in the bushes with his camcorder. That way you'll know what the guy does when you're not there.

"But will Gareth want to do it?"

"If I hide the remote, he will. Lying on my couch, lying in your bushes. Same difference. Invite Bridget over and we'll watch the tape tonight."

I felt highly self-conscious passing the guy to get to the streetcar. It was like walking onstage. But his eyes remained fixed on the house and he didn't spare me a glance. When I got home that evening, he was gone and there was no sign of Gareth. But a tape had been pushed through the mailbox.

"So what are we watching?" asked Bridget and was not pleased with my answer.

"You've got to be kidding me. Eight hours of Gerrard Street? I'd rather sit through Waterworld again."

"We'll fast-forward until something happens," said Kev.

It was an odd tape to watch. Parking meter man stood rock still as speeded up walkers and drivers glitched by him. It was as if he existed in a separate stratum of time from everything around him.

"Gareth's keeping his arm steady," said Bridget.

"Years of Nintendo paying off," said Kev. "Look. He's on the move. Rewind!"

The man crossed the street, cutting off a streetcar.

"That's quite the intense focus he has," said Bridget. "He's staring right at the camera. Has he seen Gareth?"

"That's the same spot he always stares at," I said. The man paused outside the gate.

"Looks like he's settled there," said Kev, but at that moment the man moved again and was in my yard.

"Don't like this," I said.

"Poor Gareth. How unnerving," said Bridget.

"He's heading away from Gareth," said Kev. "Towards your backyard. Maybe he just uses or deals back there. That's the most obvious — "

The camera followed the man around the side of the house. Gareth, unused to moving with such dispatch, contributed some heavy breathing to the soundtrack.

"Sounds like a horror movie," said Bridget. "Are we heading for a confrontation?"

But showing unexpected stealth, Gareth concealed himself under a pine tree. There was a minute or so of flapping branches before the man was in view again. And what we saw rendered even Kev speechless.

"What is he doing?" I finally said.

"Honey, I don't think words have been coined for what he's doing," said Bridget.

"He's charging the wall," I said, puzzled. "He can't be trying to climb it, can he?"

"That's not what's going on there," said Kev. "Let's not mince words. That man is embracing your house."

"He is not," I said. "Who embraces a brick wall?"

Kevin was firm.

"He's doing to your house what I wanted to do to Brenda Foley all through Grade 11."

"At least he's fully clothed," said Bridget, in what I think was intended to be a consoling voice.

"Even so," said Kev. "Folks, I think we're witnessing a new frontier of romance here."

"I seem to recall you crossing that same frontier with our couch at McGill," said Bridget.

"The couch and I shared the purest of platonic loves," said Kev, sternly. "Crikey. He's not stopping any time soon, is he?" The man continued to plaster himself against the house.

"I can't watch," I said and put my head in my hands.

"You know, if his passion extends to asphalt this might explain that pothole at the bottom of your driveway," said Bridget.

"Stop seeing the humour in this."

"No look, Brian, he's had enough. He's going," said Kev. "Typical male, right, Bridgie? Not even a cuddle for the house afterwards."

"That's a wrap," came Gareth's voice on the soundtrack and the screen turned to fuzz.

We looked at each other.

"I stand corrected," said Bridget. "That was much better than Waterworld. Oscars all around."

"But, what the hell do I do?" I said. "Tell the cops?"

"Yes," said Bridget.

"Sure," said Kev. "They work hard. They deserve a good laugh as much as anybody."

"You're not funny," I said.

"Look, tell you what," said Kev. "Tomorrow, I'll get Gareth to follow the guy home. If he lives in a halfway house or something, we could let the staff know. They could tighten his curfew or perimeter or whatnot."

"And I'll see what Robin thinks," said Bridget. Kev rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know what you think of Robin but psychiatry is his area of expertise —"

"Robin thinks everything is his area of expertise," said Kev.

"Regardless," said Bridget, "he might have heard of a case like this before. And Brian, I order you to go to the cops. I won't sleep tonight unless you do."

So I went, tape under my arm, with a sense of profound embarrassment. The officer at the desk listened patiently to my story. A few sentences in, he stopped me:

"Red brick house? And the guy has red hair, wears a green parka?"

"You know him?"

"The lady that lived there before you used to call us in all the time."

My throat constricted.

"What did he do to her?"

"Nothing. Just stared at the house. She thought he was stalking her. I told her he'd been watching the house for years before she got there but —"

"Years?"

The cop did some mental calculation.

"Eight years, by my count. Never tries to enter the residence. Never interacts with the people who live there. But people get nervous about him and move. You might have noticed you got the house for a reasonable price; that would be why."

I found my voice again.

"Is there anything I can do about him? He's progressed beyond staring —"

"Hugging the wall?" asked the officer. I nodded.

"If you catch him in the act, call us. But apart from that, it's tricky. The lady before you took out a restraining order but it applied to her, rather than the house. And even then he continued to watch the house from across the street."

I must have looked discouraged. The cop put a friendly hand on my shoulder.

"Look, if he escalates, call us. And if he doesn't ... maybe you can learn to see him as part of the scenery."

But I couldn't. Next morning, the street seemed black and white and he was horrible Technicolour. I averted my eyes and promptly tripped over the curb.

Bridget was sitting on the steps when I got home.

"I was prepared to duke it out with him in a staring contest but he'd already left," she said. "Kev's on his way and sounds impressed with himself. Gareth's detective work must have paid off."

Kevin arrived a few minutes later. As we ate dinner, I told them what I'd learned at the police station.

"So the guy's a fixture," said Kev. "Comes with the house. So to speak."

"Who stares at a house for eight years? said Bridget, fascinated.

"Gary Groot," said Kevin. We looked at him. "That's his name. Gareth followed him home and had a look in the mailbox. He lives in Markham."

"Where men are men and the drywall is nervous," said Bridget.

"He's got a nice house of his own," said Kev. "Gareth talked to the neighbours and they said he's a quiet, unobtrusive sort."

"It makes no sense," I said. "Why would anyone commute from Markham to obsess over my house?"

"Robin has a theory," said Bridget.

"My day is made," said Kev.

"Enough, you. I think he makes a good case. What if, years ago, this guy was in a relationship with someone who lived in Brian's house? When the relationship ended, the compulsion to visit the house continued. Granted, Robin says that people usually choose smaller objects for fetishes: jewellery, photos, love letters. But perhaps this Gary fellow got stuck on the house."

"That sounds pretty dubious," said Kev.

"Spoken by someone who's never thrown out the chewed up toys of his ex-girlfriend's cat." I said. Kevin glared.

"Boys, boys," said Bridget. "Robin also has a theory on how Brian might get rid of the guy."

"I have a theory that 15 minutes of Robin's company should do the trick," said Kev. "Works on me."

"I'll try anything," I said.

"That's the right mindset," said Bridget, brightly. Too brightly.

"That sounds ominous," said Kev.

Bridget frowned at him.

"Okay, I want to explain this properly ... Robin made it sound so logical. This man is evidently very possessive of Brian's house. He fixates on it —"

"And kind of makes out with it," said Kevin.

"Right. So we need to make it clear that the house is no longer his possession, it's Brian's but we need to express this in terms that Gary Groot will understand ... "

I didn't like the sound of this. "You don't mean ... ?"

"You've got to show your ownership of the house in the same way that Gary does. Physically. Go through the same routine that we saw on the tape."

"No bloody way —"

"Now, that's a plan I can endorse," said Kev. "In fact, that's a plan I'd buy tickets for. Robin's the unheralded genius of our time. I renounce all my hard words about him."

"Don't speak too soon," said Bridget. "If Brian goes out alone and starts caressing the house, Gary might perceive it as a challenge. We don't want any locking of horns or manly fisticuffs in the front yard. But if the guy sees he's definitely outnumbered —"

"So now we all have to slow dance with the house?" groaned Kev. "No. Resounding no."

"Come on," I said. "You owe me. I've helped you move twice. Does that count for nothing? And Bridgie's on board, isn't she?"

"I gave up on shame long ago," said Bridget cheerfully. "How about Gareth for the fourth wall? We should cover the entire house."

Kevin threw up his hands in surrender.

"Fine! I call the east wall. It's the cute side."

The next day was sunny. This meant that for the first time, Gary Groot showed up to stare at the house without his parka. It also meant the street was packed with shoppers, rollerbladers and mums with baby carriages.

"So we'll be able to humiliate ourselves in front of the maximum amount of people," said Kev. "Gareth, that's not your couch. Stop drooling on it."

Gareth glared at him and put his feet on my coffee table.

"Right. Let's do it," said Bridget. "Shall we see what effect five minutes of group house-snuggling has on Gary? Everyone synchronize your watches."

Gareth and Kev held up bare wrists.

"I'm not going to be the last one left embracing the house once the rest of you have stopped," said Kev.

"I'll put on the stereo," I said. "We can go through Gary's routine for the duration of one song."

"But what's the appropriate music to shag houses by?" asked Kev.

"Rush," said Gareth from the couch. "Their early stuff."

"We have a decision," said Bridget. "No 15-minute live versions, please."

So, as the strains of "Closer To The Heart" drifted through the window, we took up our positions. Gareth was adamant that he would only take the back wall and everyone but me agreed I should take the front.

As I rubbed, clasped and otherwise embraced my house, I came to two realizations. It was damn painful to hurl myself against brick. And Torontonians truly are a polite people. All over the block passersby were stopping to stare at us but there was no laughter, no catcalls. People stood in groups and watched from a distance, like antelope on the Serengeti.

Geddy Lee's voice faded out and we all ran inside.

"Can I tell you how much I hated that?" said Kev.

"But it worked," said Bridget. "He's gone."

It's been a month now and Gary Groot hasn't returned. Oddly, my emotions are mixed. It's great not to be under constant scrutiny but I have occasional pangs of guilt. What if I took away the one thing that made this strange man happy?

"Oh, the pathos!" says Kevin. "Look, if he kept throwing himself against walls, at some point he was bound to get brained by a chunk of masonry. Consider yourself as his guardian angel against head injury."

"He's probably moved on to bigger and better things," says Bridget. "One day, we'll be walking along King St. and see him locked in an embrace with the King Eddy. How's that for a happy ending?"

I guess I can live with it.

[语风万里]

星子斑竹你好！为什么要链接呢？多麻烦！不是小故事吗？
_________________
漫是星光，曲水流觞，一肚花雕眼迷茫。

风过回廊，似歌吟唱，半院黄花满院香。

[[爱谁谁]]

星子斑竹你好！为什么要链接呢？多麻烦！不是小故事吗？
_________________
漫是星光，曲水流觞，一肚花雕眼迷茫。

风过回廊，似歌吟唱，半院黄花满院香。

[星子]

more than 5 pages around 7 stories.

[[ANNA]]

more than 5 pages around 7 stories.

[语风万里]

u can pick one best to readers,the easier the better.thank u the same!
_________________
漫是星光，曲水流觞，一肚花雕眼迷茫。

风过回廊，似歌吟唱，半院黄花满院香。

[[爱谁谁]]

u can pick one best to readers,the easier the better.thank u the same!
_________________
漫是星光，曲水流觞，一肚花雕眼迷茫。

风过回廊，似歌吟唱，半院黄花满院香。