Lament for the Fall...Lament for the Fall of the One-Hundred Twenty-Third Block
The time had come for all things to change,
All your childhood memories erased,
Everything you thought you knew replaced
With things neighborly and all strange.
Whatever you love: the rock 'n' roll,
The silver screen magic, song and dance,
The puppet theater, has been choked,
As the voice of the frog had croaked.
The filtered air is no longer sweet.
The dead man's count is off the charts,
Of shattered dreams and broken hearts.
What is wholesome is merely deceit.
The end was brought by a small red imp,
Who tickled fancies and hypnotized
His charm was all but mirrors and smoke,
When the voice of the frog had croaked.
The cookie crumbs are nothing but lies!
Don't let children play on the junk heap;
Without self-esteem they'll be dirt cheap,
Like monsters damned to philosophize,
Ever changing "in" to "out" and back,
And justice is near, justice is far.
The monstrous moa flew unprovoked,
Since the voice of th
Spinning Plates, Part TwoLily was sitting at their favourite table by the window, leaning over an old, leather-bound book the kind that might bring the word tome or grimoire to mind and shielding the pages from the bright sunlight with her hand the same tenderness she always showed to her favourite books, except that this was an awkward kind of tenderness. Her fingers were hovering respectfully a few inches above the page, as though she was too awed to be affectionate.Spinning Plates, Part Two7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Her ruby-red hair was spilling over her shoulders, alive with colours in the sunlight. There were threads of gold, crimson and deep, plum-coloured purple. She looked like an open jewel-case.
She beamed when she saw him. Nobody had ever beamed at Snapes approach before; they often smirked, scowled or simpered, but they never beamed. He felt as though hed reached the end of a very long, painful race a race in which everyone had been trying to trip him up, and too many smug bastards had
SplinteredBlackness for a long time, and a kind of hot pounding in his head. He supposed he must have been walking through the castle corridors, because the next time he became aware of his surroundings, he was floors away from the Hospital Wing, staring out of the window of the Second Floor Corridor, beside the Gryffindor Portrait Hole.Splintered7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The window-pane was flecked with rain-drops, but the sunlight was blazing through them, creating brilliant sparkles that seared themselves into his eyes. The glass looked splintered, as though it had been fractured into thousands of little slivers that were only staying together because they hadnt realized yet that they were broken.
That was how Severus felt. When he realized that he was broken, it was going to hurt, but, right now, in the painful white glare of the windows, he only knew he was hot and he wanted to be someplace dark.
Auto-pilot took over again, and then he found himself in the dungeon classroom he used for studying. There was a