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ShatteredShe remembers it now; there’s blood (oh yes she can remember the blood thick and red and sticky and dead) and pain (it’s what she is made of now what she will be) and the feeling of something inside her mind snapping like a guitar string (it’s a musical sound almost pretty she takes care of it and remembers the sound of unrepairable) shattering and bleeding and disappearing in tiny supernovas that leave behind a strange urge to smile and the icy knowledge that this is what she is; shattered.
She smiles into the darkness, eyes open but unable to see (they took care of that they did), arms wrapped around her torso and legs (at least the one she can move without pain she is pain why) pressed against her chest.
They turn on the light but it’s not them and she blinks as her eyes try to adjust to the brightness (it hurts so but she missed it why did she not remember) and they’re strangers (she doesn’t think she can trust them but her body is limp and her m
Love is CruelLove is cruel.
There is no doubt in my mind about this. Love is as cruel as it is kind.
It is the curve of her jaw and the silhouette of her face I study the most. she is lovely, free and happy as a bird and with the depth and beauty of a mountain lake 'neath a full moon. Sometimes the secretive veil of darkness pulls back and I am allowed to look at what resides deep down. I am captured; mesmerised by these brief glimpses of what makes her her.
I hang on to her words and her beautiful accent more than I let show. She is important to me; far more so than she knows. When she speaks I listen.
I love her. Fully and with all my heart, I love her. I do not know if she feels the way I do, but I pray she does. Love unreturned is a slow poison.
How BarrenHow barren, this land
Once home to thousands
How empty, these hands
Begging for food
How silent, the pantheon
Sworn to protect them
How unjust, the fate
Assigned to the poor
MonochromeA garden clad in darkness
With shadows all around
A beating heart of blackened stone
With veins of rubies crowned
A moving star crossing skies alone
The day is dead, the night has come
Vanilla swirls in bowls of blood
A taste of wild and tame
A figure in a darkened hood
Never quite the same
A howling moon so far away
The desert crawls with life today
Swimming in the river deep
An ancient beast is deep asleep
Buried treasure 'neath the tree
Not for mortal eyes to see
A pen on paper, scratching words
Monochrome, a page of blurs
Light in darkness, shining weak
Frightened children for it seek
Yet, once the fleeting light is found
Cold ashes resting on the ground
Sunrise over mountains high
A painter gives a grateful sigh
Quiet reigns where sound should be
A storm is raging silently
The scratching stops, the paper curls
A hand no longer with us furls
Whispers the WindWhispers the wind
In the hours of day
O'er the noise
Of life, as it passes
Whispers the wind
In the hours of night
In the silence
Of dark, as it passes
Whispers the wind
In the hours between
In changing light
And sound, as it rests
LightA being at the very edge of his vision was kneeling over the fallen human. It was weaving strands of glimmering light in a web over her chest, the thin threads passing through each other and sticking in seemingly random places as she worked. The fine weave pulsed gently as it hovered just above her chest save for where the being had delicately pressed one fingertip down to attach it to the dead woman. The being then wove the connected strands into each other, and soon one thin fiber of light was attached to each of the fingertips on her right hand. She raised her hand then, gathering the strands and gently pressing them to the palm of her hand before spreading her fingers out again, letting her hand hover in the air for a few moments. The body was lifted off the ground, only a few inches, as if the little light threads were puppet strings. The strands of light glowed brighter and the world seemed to hold its breath when she brought her hand down, fingers still spread and palm flat. The
Grey and silverIn a world of grey and silver
Colours muted by the fog
I stand silent in the snowscape
With a smile of grateful joy
I see the hidden beauty
In a bleak and quiet day
The lack of sound is calming
Wish it could stay this way
This landscape that I tell of
Is never far away
As fog and frost still rule the world
You'll see it too
I promise you
Peacock BlueThe sky is blue. It’s a beautiful shade, the colour of peacock feathers. I stand on a green hill underneath a blue sky and smile at the warm, yellow sunlight.
A gentle breeze rustles in the leaves and tousles the long grass as I close my eyes. Soft footsteps sound behind me, slightly out of sync with the wind. That’s how I hear her.
She comes to stand beside me on the hill, and her top is a link between the sky and the grass, beautiful and green-blue. She smiles at me and I smile back.
“Thunderstorm’s coming,” she says. I nod.
We stand together and watch torn clouds the colour of bruised lead close over the peacock blue sky. Somewhere lightning flashes, the momentary flare of light illuminating her face and making her features stand out in sharp relief. I take her hand.
We will weather this storm together. Because behind wild clouds of bruised lead there is a sky the colour of peacock feathers and a warm, yellow sun.
I look up. She's giving me a worried look as I pull the earplugs out and pause the music.
"You looked like you were about to cry there for a moment," she says. My face is blank as I think back for a moment.
I think back again, listen to the music in my head, and I don't say anything. Because how can you put music into words? How can you convey such feelings of loss, sadness, of greatness, of hope, of belief in a new day, a new dawn? How do you explain the feeling of something great ending and something truly magnificent beginning? How? When you can hear the sunset and the dawn, how do you turn that into words?
I can't. So I smile and shrug.
"Dunno. Just thinking," I say.
And she leaves it at that.
The Fridge3:02 a.m.
I woke up slowly and groggily, in the sort of half-dreaming way that you do sometimes. There were a few disoriented moments in the dark, as my mind sorted reality from dreams, before I knew where I was. You were asleep, curled up next to me with your arm over my midriff, your hand resting on my belly underneath the sheets, making me feel safe.
My stomach gurgled urgently, and I realised that I was incredibly hungry. I looked over at the clock and saw it was 3 a.m. I usually sleep soundly, but hunger always manages to get my attention over any kind of sleep. It wasn't as if I had gone to bed hungry. The leftover serving bowl on the side cabinet formerly full of ice cream would attest to that fact; however, my belly was unconvinced and continued to complain. Nothing else to do, I suppose, but get up.
I slowly and carefully pick your hand off my belly and move it to one side, trying not to wake you. A bit futile I suppose, it's not like I can move with much stealth these
WonderlandThe woman called Alice walks alone through the hollow streets, a seed planted in her sterile heart and a rifle sleeping in her belt. Last night, she'd witnessed the popping of Pérignon, and a dazzling display of fireworks, complete with alcohol-polished emotions and hundreds of thousands of citizens pulsing rowdy fanfare. She'd netted her highest number of kills that fateful day. Blood still rests in the creases of her palms.
A streetlamp greets her brightly with its mild glow, and alerts her to a dirty and disheveled homeless man groveling for money on the other side of the street. The young couple next to him give a feeble attempt to back away, claiming they have none to spare.
"Lies," Alice whispers. She can easily see the pearls jingling from the lady's neck, and a well-crisped suit guarding the young man from the night chill. Money is more than expendable to them. And this city could do without this attractive mask of a couple. They, too, are expendable. Alice begins t
Hetalia X Reader: Perceptive
You woke up to your alarm ringing. You turn off your alarm while yawning sleepily.
Another day of work
You slowly got out of bed and begin another journey of your usual daily routine of brushing your teeth, taking a shower, eating breakfast, getting dressed for work, and so on.
You yawn while leaving your house through walking out of your front door before closing and locking it. You start walking down the pathway to your car but stop seconds later when you saw a familiar blond-haired kid riding a scooter around in front of your front yard. You frown, narrowing your eyes slightly.
Great, it’s that annoying kid again. You thought while walking towards your car, bad mood already start starting.
What’s he even doing here anyway? He’s been here every morning creating that same noise and he doesn’t even live in this neighbourhood.
After unlocking and getting in your car, you start the engine whilst eyeing the kid at the back of your c
23. Befriend Me - Jake English x Reader
It was you 17th birthday, you didn’t want to do anything with your friends this year, for one they were all busy and didn’t really have time to go. You didn’t fret though. Your parents promised you that you would get to go on a special trip, just the three of you. You arrived at the campground, the forest trees a dark shade of green, and the sky, a beautiful shade of blue, not a cloud in sight. You all set up your tents, your parents are giving you space, so the tents are spread quite far apart.
You stepped out of your finished tent and looked around, there were other families in the area as well, most with younger children than yourself. You told your parents you were going to check out the forest for a bit, they replied with their favorite line “Be Careful.” You walked slowly taking in the scenery, until you bumped into a taller looking boy.
“Ow… I’m so sorry!” You said softly.
“It’s quite alright dear.” He look
Water Runs in My Veins I break the surface and feel the waves embrace my into their icy, yet soothing arms. Once I am completely immersed, every inch of my skin tingles. My bones seem to melt to match the temperature of the water, and my movements become fluid. I deftly plunge deeper, feeling both the cold and the warmth rush past me with every stroke. The pulse of the ocean beats against my skin; it is alive. I open my eyes to take in the scene. I can't see clearly, the images are blurred. Still, I can make out soft hues of color. I reach out and feel the hard, smooth surface of a rock, resting amongst others. I feel a rigid plant, and my hand even grazes the backs of a couple of slimy fish. With each connection made by my senses, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I am truly unlimited when I'm under the sea; my fears have been washed away by the white waves.
Growing excited, I continue to venture deeper into the dark depths. Soon, I feel wisps of seaweed brush up against me, tickling
Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess and a handsome prince. The prince was a little older but the princess didn't mind. He was like a brother but very, very cute!
But the princess had an evil, mean, stinky older sister who always took the prince away from her! This made the princess very sad and angry!
She wished she was older...that way she could have the prince all to herself!! So one day she prayed to the stars and wished to be older!
"AND IT CAME TRUE!!!" Brianna screeched in her room. She stood in front of her mirror and struck a few poses. The clothes draped on her, and the heels were way too big for her feet. They were heels, bright red ones from mother's closet! Her dress of choice was the most beautiful one out of her mom's closet- a lovely blue sparkly dress which flowed outward like a mermaid dress. However, when Brianna wore it, it looked like a bag.
That's not all she had "borrowed." Her mother's jewelry always lay in the jewelry box on the dresser. It was
DreamcatcherThe dreamcatcher, a catcher of nightmares and symbol of good nights. You can find them anywhere if you look hard enough. Most people do not believe in their power. But, one child chose to believe. A young boy, suffering from nightmares. The child wandered into a shop one day and found one. A pale dreamcatcher with pale blue feathers and beads. The boy was delighted to see what he called 'the most beautiful thing in the world'. He picked it up and took it to the counter. The cashier, a friendly looking elderly gentleman gave a soft sigh and a smile.
"Son, are you sure you want this one? I think it would be best if you chose a different one."
"No, sir. I really want this one!" The boy smiled cheerily. The old man stared for a bit, then nodded. He rang up the catcher and gave it to the boy, who took it, thanked him, and ran out. The man sighed.
"That thing never seems to be sold for long..."
The boy ran to his house, a worn-down looking place in the middle of town.
"Mommy! I'm home!" He c
Caliban's DreamThe music flows through the air, curling and twisting like invisible smoke. I inhale it and feel it settle in my chest as the drums play joyfully with the rythm of my heart and the music. A voice breaks through, whispering and caressing as the colorful invisible smoke spreads in my blood, filling my body with pulsing life. I hum with the music, my whole body lost in the swirling tones that flow and curl and hum all around and in me. It is almost painful, the power of a simple song. I thrum and pulse with the music as it stretches into eternity, an infinite amount of time squeezed into a few short minutes. I rejoice in the feeling of life. I know the song is over soon, and when it ends, the hard, cold real world will come back. I close my eyes and cling to the colorful humming life in and around me, desperately holding on to another world, one made of music and color, where dreams are true and imagination is the master.
Hath No FearGiving yourself completely up to fear is kinda like falling in love: You can't pin point exactly when it started and by the time you realize that you are surrounded by that sensation it's already game over. Just like the image of the person you are in love with starts creeping out from every unexpected corner, fear never leaves your side when you give it a welcome stay. After a restless sleep, it starts beating anxiously in your heart the moment you wake up in the morning and commands all your thoughts and actions throughout the day. It is nothing short of a prison, except you are the only inmate and the warden never takes a break. Ever.
I do not exactly remember when I let fear occupy my being but I remember the exact moment when I realized I was ruled by it. It was late in the afternoon, everybody was out there 'getting busy living' and I had locked myself inside my bed half awake, not particularly finding any valid reason to get out of it. Then I was awakened from a nightmare by my
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More