Happy EndingsHappy Endings Are Just Fairytales That Haven't Finished Yet
They stand in the courtyard in their finery, the Prince of the land dressed in a majestic black tunic and the daughter of the kingdom's richest Lord draped in the glorious white silks of her gown. The people cheer as they walk past, throwing ribbons and flowers at the newlywed couple. The Prince basks in the attention, smiling and waving at the crowd as he leads his bride toward the castle gates.
It should be me.
It should be me at his side, wearing his ring, spending his wedding night. How many times had he told me that? How many times had he whispered words of love in my ear, telling me that I was the only woman for him, promising that we would be together forever?
And how many times had I believed him.
I should have known, I should have realised that a Prince like him would never marry a common girl like me. But I didn't. Instead, I lived thoughtlessly by his side as his mistress, his paramour, oblivious to the whisp
Bed Time StoryI told this story to my two-and-a-half-year-old sister tonight, and if anyone is wondering who on Earth tells stories like this, just keep in mind that young children enjoy stories of just about any subject matter, as long as it flows and contains elements they like. As for my sister, she likes the planets, bunnies, paintings, and has a habit of memorising names that she hears regularly (say, politicians perhaps).Bed Time Story5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
If you think this is ridiculous, well, just think of it as a very serious postmodern stream-of-consiousness piece.
You know how Mercury is a rocky ball? Well it's very small, so small in fact that it was carried by a bunny. The bunny and Mercury decided to journey to Saturn where they met a television who told them that a bird was going to land on Pluto. And then another bunny joined them, so the two bunnies, the television, and Mercury went to Pluto, where they found the bird that was landing and it was an eagle. They also found a Kevin Rudd Memorial Bunny and a Tony Abbott
Witchcraft"It is rather unnatural for me to be here right now, but there are not natural times," the farmer said with a grim countenance. "I have come to you because I am going to die."Witchcraft4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The witch leaned forward, surveying her guest. He was not unlike the other men who regularly came to her for advice, with simple clothes that were slightly torn and ragged but still adequate, tanned skin from his outdoor labour, and strong calloused hands from his work in the field. "And why do you believe that?"
"I have seen omens," the farmer replied. "My crops, you see, which I constantly tend to ensure their prosperity, that were grown on the same field that had grown many plentiful harvests in the past, have failed without reason. And last week I went down to the paddock where I keep my cows to find them all lying on the ground, strewn about, as they would have been standing before their lives were taken so suddenly and with no discernable cause. My farm is dead. And it is all in preparation for when I will
I Am WinterI warn you, I'm blizzards by the dozen,I Am Winter5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Each surface glassy ice and powder snow,
Frost, sleet, hail, and all else that is frozen,
Is all that I am, is all that I know.
It seems that she'd been with me since the bud,
With me before I existed at all,
She said she wanted love, she took my blood,
Her teeth in my vein, she drained all my soul.
Her breath is vanilla, part of her spell,
And I thought it would be mine to keep,
I gave her my heart, she took it as well,
Like slipping into cold eternal sleep.
Lips on mine drank my warmth, she's the hunter,
I'm all that she left me, I am winter.
Breaking Fall The morning rain fell around me, shining slightly in the light of the small sliver of sun that was beginning to peer over from the East. The movie set I was shooting on was located on a picturesque stretch of grassland, which would have appeared like a Garden if Eden of sorts if it wasn't for the plumes of dark grey city-smoke on the horizon. The cross-country train station was completely deserted. Perfect. There was no one to see me, no one to find me, no one to recognise me...Breaking Fall5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Mr Parker, Mr Parker!" came the shrill cries of the paparazzi as the world famous movie star fought his way from the set back to his trailer. "Could you answer a few questions?" He ignored the onslaught and pushed his way past the hordes of fans, journalists, and magazine photographers. He didn't need this, not now. He had just received the worst phone call of his life and they wanted him to interrogate him about it? "Will you give us a quote?" He
Lady DeathThey think Death is the Reaper,Lady Death5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Carrying his scythe,
Able to disappear into vapour,
Like a shadow in light.
But no, Death takes the shape,
Of a person, a woman at that,
With a pitch black cloak a flowing cape,
A crucifix of coal, and grace like a cat.
On rhinestone boots she treads the land,
With midnight eyes she tracks her prey,
A spear of onyx in her hand,
Her hair of ink soaking up every sun's ray.
She dons a studded ebonite vest,
With denim of iron sitting on her hip
A blood stained cutlass at her wrist,
Rings of beryl through her lip.
Her ears are pierced with needle sharp bone,
Her eyelids smudged with ash,
Her mouth a deep, blood-red tone,
the colour of night on each eyelash.
So who is this Queen of Darkness?
Who can she be?
An answer finally comes to a question ageless.
Death, is me.
FearI stand, the night closing around me,Fear5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I stare into the dark whirlpool of black,
I feel the cold wind lash at my skin,
I am afraid.
Nowhere to turn,
Nowhere to go,
Lost in the woods,
Stranded in a void of nothingness.
Rustling of leaves,
Frozen I stand,
My heart racing in my chest,
The silence like a thick blanket,
There is a tap on my shoulder.
I force myself to move,
TwoThe small sliver of sun that was just beginning to peak over the East cast a pale yellow light over the small park, making the drops of dew clinging to each blade of grass sparkle like a thousand diamonds. Two figures sat on the edge of the park on an old bench that once, many years ago, might have been painted green, but now had worn away to the bare, weathered wood.Two5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The day had begun.
* * *
The figure in white took a deep breath, her short summer dress fluttering around her. She closed her eyes and began to count in her head. She wouldn't be staying long, just a minute in the frigid morning air before it would be back inside for her studies. The childhood of a future top grade private lawyer didn't have time for lazing around.
60, 59, 58, not much time. She only had a minute in the morning to ready her mind, then it would be time to go to her morning classes, followed by the day at her expensive private school, followed by more classes with professional tutors, all paid for by
Pandora's BoxAt first I loathed that woman,Pandora's Box6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Pandora, who released the evils,
Into the world we live in,
And destroyed the human race.
But then I reconsidered,
For she had kept trapped the evil,
Of foresight, and had given us,
The light in the darkness,
The hero in war,
The one who nursed us from birth,
Like a glow in the fog,
Like a numb in the pain,
It is the silver lining on the cloud,
Hope, happiness, haven,
We owe it all to the woman,
Who let out all the horrors, except one,
And became both mankind's villain, and hero.
The Truth The TruthThe Truth5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
See, the funny thing with people
They like to create things
But they don't like to look
Upon their creation.
See, the funny thing with people
They like to make messes
But not clean them up.
See, the funny thing with people
Broken Wings Broken WingsBroken Wings5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
As I write this poem here
Shane-Vengeance BioFull Name: Shane Alan Poe (named himself that)Shane-Vengeance Bio5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Nick Name(s): Vengeance
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Family: Abusive Father, Mother, and unmet older sister, all deceased
Weapon(s): Iron staff, capable off breaking a human skull on impact (If necessary) And an iron chain, with a length of ten feet. Both custom made, out of the toughest iron
Info: From the beginning, Shane's father always resented him for practically being the cause of the mother's passing after his birth. With no forgiveness in his heart, Shane's father abused him and denied him the comfort of a loving father. Many years later, after seeing the cruelty of society, Shane became his own persona to face against the corruption, Vengeance. Now in order to protect his newly beloved, Shane must face against the forces of which he's never seen before. No matter what happens to him, his love for Alyson will give him the will to keep figh
I Will Wait For YouThe letter came that fateful day,I Will Wait For You4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
To tear you and I apart.
The weeks before you were forced on your way,
Were a blur of a blackened art.
For months I agonised for your return to date,
In sorrow deep enough for fiction.
Until on the dreaded list I read of your fate:
"Missing In Action"
In years that passed, I waited alone,
While no news came of the part of myself.
Hordes of soldiers were flocking back home,
But your file just gathered dust on the shelf.
I knew not if you were dead or alive,
I knew not what to do.
I had closed my heart, praying you would survive,
To love again, seemed taboo.
Time flew by and my hope began to dwindle,
Though I still clutched at your small chance.
But soon all was left was a flickering candle,
Quivering in its uncertain dance.
What was I to think, I was torn,
Should I love again or retain my faith?
Surrender hope or stay lovelorn,
Or choose another to take your place?
My anguish one morn was put to an end,
When finally, I learned,
That I had to let go, cou
Sheba Blackheart BioFull Name: Sheba BlackheartSheba Blackheart Bio5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Nick Name(s): None
Age: 18 (at death) 27 (current)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Light Grey, same as her skin
Family: Older Brother; deceased
Power(s): Energia Manipulation, Regeneration, & Transformation. More powers yet to be revealed
Abilities: Super Speed
Weapon(s): Muertos Spear, capable of extending to great lengths
Info: Sheba Blackheart, a teenage girl who sadly died too soon. Police found her murdered, along with her brother, pet dog, and a few henchmen that served under a crime lord. After being revived and given another chance at life, yet having no memory of her past, Sheba has agreed to serve her loyalty to her master, The Black Pumpkin. Most of the time when she's not carrying out orders or facing Jagers, she learns more about becoming a true Muertos from her master's teachings. Deep down within herself, she has feelings for her master, and whether she's of her own free will or not, she will stand by her maste
Fang BioFull Name: UnknownFang Bio5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Age: Over 2,000 years
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black with Ruby Red Pupils
Family: No longer has one
Species: Undead, Vampire
Power(s): Affliction, Teleportation, Regeneration
Abilities: Speed, Strength, Defense
Weapon(s): 9 inched Hunting Knives
Info: Long ago when he was human, he was bitten by a vampire, and was later held against his will by the Jagers after they appeared, and killed the vampire for his crimes of taking many lives. Fang later attempted to escape from the Jagers, but failed, and lost his life, he bears the giant scar on his chest to prove it. After the Jagers disposed of his body, many years past, and his body was eventually recovered by the Muertos clan leader, The Black Pumpkin. Fang now serves the Black Pumpkin for bringing him back to the living, and hopes to take his vengeance on the Jagers. Despite knowing that she's a relative of a Jager, he bears a deep passion for Rebecca-Clare Akano
For Samantha VoorheesLet me weave you a tale about a young girl, who later met the love of her life, a true and famous horror legend.For Samantha Voorhees5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Samantha, a fifteen year old teenage girl, was sitting close to the camp fire. She wears a black short sleeved shirt under a light green jacket, and a pair of blue jeans. Her brown eyes are the same color as her long hair, a purple and green bow is tucked behind her right ear. Samantha lets out a long sigh, and continues to stare at the fire. The others are sound asleep, she is alone with her thoughts.
Samantha then turns and glares at the dark corners of the woods, as a sudden sound of rustling terrifies her.
"Who's out there?" Samantha whispers, not wanting to wake the others.
She heard nothing, save the rustling.
Samantha jumps to her feet. "Who's out there?!"
Suddenly, a strong breeze blows up from the ground. The fire goes out, everything is dark. Samantha's heart slowly begins to race as the cold chills of fear paralyze her. Sudden screams of horror fill the very air S
It's FunnyYou know, it's funny.It's Funny5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I never saw myself as one of those girls
That write creepy letters like this.
But alas, I am one of those girls,
I don't mean to sound weird.
I don't mean to sound like a stalker.
I don't mean to sound obsessed with you.
I guess I'm just lonely.
The day you left me
Sitting on the grass;
The wind dancing in my hair,
I didn't know what to do.
What could I do?
What was there for me?
Anyways, you need your rest.
It's very late
And you must be exhausted from putting up with me.
Go on. Sleep.
Wake up to the birds singing happily.
Wake up to a new day.
Wake up to a fresh start.
Live the mirror image of my life.
Caveo of MortalitasI seeCaveo of Mortalitas5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Black, a dark swirling cloud that spreads from before my eyes to the edges of my vision. Black, and nothing more.
The soft whispers, all around me, come now, join us, it is time
I have nothing, no mind, no body, just a soul within the darkness. I see the clouds, hear the whispers, though I am not sure whether or not "see" and "hear" are the right words, for I have no ears, no eyes; I just know.
Come now The whispers are beckoning. But no, I'm not going to listen.
Join us But I can't. I have a life to live, a full one, not one cut short so unfairly like this.
It is time But why? Why must it be time? I want my body, my mind, my life. It's too early, I'm too young.
We are all young, young in the face of forever. Life is only the beginning But I don't want to leave, I want to stay with my family, my friends, my husband, my children. I want to stay.
Why? Why wo
I'd Rather Be I'd Rather BeI'd Rather Be5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You like the mountains, I love the sea
You like the cold, I like to be
Out in the sunlight, where it's warm.
You like clear skies, I chase storms.
You prefer lush valleys, while I
Ride a blimp in the sky.
You like your eggs poached; mi
A Funeral ReunionI tasted you,A Funeral Reunion4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And you tasted like San Francisco,
Broken piano keys and betrayal
Left over from your last lover.
Your hair is softer now,
But your expression is tough
And overgrown with malice.
I cup it in my hands
And see nothing but what I remember.
I haven't heard you
Or anything you've said since you began,
Because it's just space
Filled with your tongue
And teeth, and they have left me.
Your body is smaller
Like it has been running for too long
Marked with midnight blue
I understand now that my prayers
Made their way to you after all.
Cushioned with my love letters,
I made you a safe place
Where you can be a little boy
With a red face and soft hands.
No one can take it from you,
Because I made it for you, and
Someone made you for me.
I only write about you late at night
When I can admit that I love you.
The Earth cannot judge me.
Let the red darkness of my bedspread
Reap up and engulf me
Into a dreamless sleep,
You being the last thing on my mind.
The taste of your last
Not YouI thought there was a black hole,Not You5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In my chest, where others have a heart.
I've hurt so many and not cared at all,
But now there's a feeling which just won't part.
I see you standing there,
A victim you would have been,
But now I sit and stare,
Now I think differently.
Your innocence and your beauty,
The look you have in your eyes,
Took me back abruptly,
Took me by surprise.
You befriended me, unaware,
Then started changing me too.
I can't continue, no I can't bear,
To do what I planned to do.
Is this love no it cannot be,
Surely that couldn't come from,
Someone as heartless as me,
Or perhaps I'm wrong.
This I've never felt before,
What is it that you do?
I only know that I can't hurt you anymore,
No, not you.
The SketchHe loses his first kiss in autumn. He's twelve, she's just turned thirteen, and at the time he isn't sure what all the fuss is about but knows how special it is anyway.The Sketch2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She's gorgeous, pale-skin, brown hair, dark eyes always filled with happiness and joy the way he wishes he could be. She doesn't want to be there any more than he does, and they grouse to each other about how they don't need a 'special school.' It's the first time he's worked up the courage to say it.
She carries a book too, just like his sketchbook, but she says it's a diary. It's hung with a little lock on the front and he jokes about it being the key to her heart, a little boy's poor attempt at flirting but she laughs anyway. He wants to hear that laugh again, and he does, when he shyly asks if he can draw her.
It's half-way through his sketch that she leans in and presses her soft lips to his. It's a little clumsy and awkward, given how she's standing up and he's cross-legged on the ground, and nowhere as romantic l
AttentionMisha found America agreeable, for the most part there was the Boston traffic, but it wasn't as bad as Moscow's, and the food was overly rich and too abundant. But the people of the city were positively warm compared to the Spartan attitudes he knew, he hadn't had a single dollar stolen from him, and the university kids couldn't keep their eyes off of him. Not even the boys. He'd heard catcalls walking by a gathering of young men, the kind he'd learned to call "bros." It was his hair, maybe, or the way stubble refused to show on his face: in America, you could be anything other people wanted you to be, it seemed.Attention4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He told Sasha about it on the phone, who laughed at him. "You're getting a big head. The Americans are gawking at you because you don't look like them."
"I don't think that's it." Misha took a handful of almonds and threw them in his mouth. He knew Sasha would doubt him he always did, dwelling in what he called his "nativist cynicism." It didn't seem to involve m