Brick by boring brickThere’s a song that I don’t skip over.
That I’m not allowed to skip over when it comes up.
It’s not a particularly good song, but it has very fitting lyrics. And if I can hear them without thinking that someone needs to hurt me, then everything is okay.
I know that I’m okay.
The first time that I’d stood on this bridge I got Stairway to Heaven, which is a great song, and which I’d been happy to listen to while I watched the running water and worried about a class and a guy who’d unnerved me. And I’d been hoping I’d get a similar song this time, sitting with my back against the railing and my feet under me to spare my legs the snow and ice.
But this song came up, and I had to let it play.
I don’t have a lot of rules, but I don’t ever, EVER let myself break the ones I do.
To the point of cruelty sometimes.
And this guy is still unnerving me, because it’s not something I’m ever supposed to feel. It’s
BrailleI can't read you by sight,Braille3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't remember which arm
Your birthmark is on,
Or the number of freckles
On your face.
But by night I learned
Your Braille by heart,
A secret language
Hidden by touch.
I don't remember the exact
Hue of your eyes,
But I remember
Your skin under mine.
One Who Masters Magic: PrologueOne Who Masters Magic: Prologue3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
A Prophecy Worth Blood
Prophecy is both a gift and a curse. It can gift a man with insight into the future that can benefit all of mankind, but it can also curse him with knowledge that others will kill to obtain or to silence.
Terrand of Malorez, Master Prophet
429, Third Age
The sound of iron shod hooves clattering against cobblestones rang out as three dozen men rode hard toward a drab monastery nestled in a small grove of trees miles down the road. The men ignored the cold winter wind that bit at their cheeks and the looming darkness from the shortened days. They knew the way to their destination well and the simple road guided them even in the dim light. All of these men were dressed in expensive heavy plate armor with mail beneath and carried spears in their hand and a sword on their belt. Each wore the crest of their emperor upon their chest plate. The silver mountain and the four golden stars
StringString can be used for lots of things, but mostly tying things together. Connecting them, making them stronger. But what if string is pulling things in different directions, each direction demanding attention, putting pressure on the system?String3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Sometimes your strings might run alongside another, creating an affinity, improving relations. It's not dragging you sideways and it's not dragging you down, it's not pulling you away from yourself but sometimes, it can lift you up.
Making me stronger is my closest friend, we don't tangle but we braid, we weave, we spiral round each other. We are each a kite bearer for the other, holding a few of the strings, sharing, caring and taking control when we need. We can give the string a bit of a tug and pull the other down to earth, we can reel them in if we need them and let them fly when we don't. But all this pulling and pushing is done in the spirit of sharing, the string will not break it just stretches and shortens depending on what we both need.
He Never StoppedSomeone once told me that depression was like a dense, dark raincloud that hung over you and you couldn't escape from it as hard as you might try. I don't think I ever really understood because I have spent so many years running and hiding from that cloud. I finally understand now. I also know however that you can't run from this and you can't hide from it. Instead you have to find a way to rise above it, walk on top of the clouds and let the rain fall below your feet.He Never Stopped3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
In a world full of liars, deadbeats, cheaters and beaters it is easy to lose confidence that decent people do exist. Do you know how many times I have pinched myself in all the years I've known you just to make sure I am not dreaming you up? I will whisper the answer in your ear while you have your arms around me.
There isn't much in life that surprises me, but I have said many times to many people how you do. You hold onto your passion and devotion in a way I can't imagine holding onto anything. I have been so
Nevermore Chapter OneChapter One- The Clockwork BoyNevermore Chapter One3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Fourteen years later…
The sleepy little suburb of Grindlestead was always so very quiet. Well, when the children weren’t awake that is. It was, lively to say the least, when the young ones would run about, screaming their little heads off in joyous games. Now, there was so another always in Grindlestead: the child that lived in 207 Albeister Drive was a strange. And “strange” was an understatement to most of the neighbors as a word to describe her. Sure, she was well mannered and well behaved but it was some of the things she spoke of that made her “strange” to the neighbors. It was always things about two mysterious folk that spoke, yet she could never hear what they said, well, except for the word “Nevermore.” But she never really understood what that meant.
Another little behavior of hers that made her strange was, that every evening she would take a stroll over to old Grimspire Cemetery. Of course
Pokemon Apocalypse: Rivalry “Charmander, go!” Yelling just felt natural. The Pokéball flew from my hand and Charmander burst out.Pokemon Apocalypse: Rivalry2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
“Squirtle, take care of this punk!” Blue yelled.
The two tiny creatures faced off at the entrance of the professor’s lab. Charmander stood about knee height (to my waist) and Squirtle was just a bit shorter. I felt an instant connection to Charmander, that indescribable bond between trainer and Pokémon.
“Charmander, attack!” I yelled, pointing at Squirtle. The lizard dashed forward and slashed at Squirtle with his claws.
“Tackle him!” I heard Blue yell.
Squirtle lunged at Charmander and knocked him over.
“Get him off! Scratch him!” I yelled. Charmander flailed his claws, landing a
RedemptionThe frost clung to the window of my hospital room. The late afternoon, nighttime sky was dotted with tiny white specks we as children came to know as the stars. Rainbow lights peeked over the edge and set any darkened reaches of the room a glow in a cheerful embrace. I was looking out the window, to the Detroit River that lie motionless beneath its thin blanket of ice; beautiful.Redemption3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
I sat there, feeling content with God and with life as I clung to the last moments of it on this Christmas night. I closed my eyes and began to pray, near pleading for acceptance. “sorry.” I whisper “I’m sorry.”
A knock breaks the silence of my prayer.
“Hey Marsi.” my brother Raymond comes in, biggest grin I think I’ve ever seen stretched across his meaty face. His three sons came trotting behind him and my two babies after them.
“Auntie Marsi!” my nephews, Derrick of eighteen, Brian of fifteen and Alex the youngest, being only twelve; all shout in un
astrological.i. On some nights,astrological.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
street lights guide
this lonely heart
to her lonely bed.
ii. In this universe of twilight skin
& mismatched bones,
I wonder just how many poems sleep
beneath the inkwell of her eyes.
iii. My body is a house of stars,
and her palms are black holes
sucking ( me ) into their vortex of
iv. She says, "Please—my moon,
please—give these bones a reason
& I am whispering lovelies
into the sanctuary of her heartbeats.
v. "Goddess temple,
sunset eyes, &
my windowpane love-
Let us eat the stars
The Man Who Never DiedThe Man Who Never Died3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Countless men in history have dreamed of becoming the man that I am today. Sacrificing everything for their own personal gains. The fools. They could never be me. Oh, but how they've tried, some coming closer than others, though not without my permittance. They remain with the hope that they could one day replace me as I string them along like puppets. After all, all men, even I, wish to be challenged. Yes, I must always have them believe in the beauty of possibility, no matter what the truth may be.
Therefore, I believe that I have some duty, some obligation to myself, to keep the hope alive in every man. Each man must feel within his heart that he is the author of his own destiny. But the reality is, the truth is far harder to swallow. And the truth is this, there can only be one. There will always be one. And they will all be crushed, in time.
I am what men call, immortal. Though I am also secretly all powerful, but that is something they needn't know.
I haven't always been this way
Chapter 1: Flame PointsThe sound of water encircled the area. The subtle echo of the liquid splashing against the river stones, sent an array of euphoria to her ears. The piercing heat of the morning star kissed the skin of her face, as the frigid wind caressed her body.Chapter 1: Flame Points3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A loud crash erupted, the sound of the peaceful water being pushed out of its safe abode.
A piercing tone called out to her, “Butter! Please come in the water with me!”
She instantly recognized the voice belonging to her twin brother Scotch. Her cat ears twitched from the annoyance of her brother disturbing her tranquility. She peered one of her eyes open to see him drenched in the crystal like waters of Euteria. She couldn’t resist as the urge overtook her and the lips upon her face curved into a smile, her unmistakable feline fangs exposing themselves. The saliva dried quickly in the morning air.
“You are so silly brother, you are a walking contradiction.” She said, her smile growing wider.
Her brother tilted
Zombie Mages Bend RealityZombie Mages Bend Reality3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Time is the symmetry-breaking act of the mage's vision. By distinguishing this vision, we quantize time and introduce the concepts of 'change', 'speed' or 'phase'. The context they manifest in we call 'space'.
By now we have enough to observe the Holographic Principle, the corollary of which is that all dimensions curve. Understanding gravity is not that hard:
As a response to the continuous exhale of sight, space/time inhales in the direction of time. If you prefer to think in cause-and-effect chains, think of it this way: mass doesn't cause the gravitational field - the curving of space/time causes that which we quantify as 'mass' and 'matter'.
- Dreamer's Handbook
Emerson rattled the chains that bound him to the operating table. "Increase the dosage! More Serum!"
Dyna observed calmly from behind the bulletproof glass. Too bad surgical research yields no results. Experiments with Serum overdose were cheap in terms of time and equipment, but required cripplingly lar
ChainedEscape these chainsChained3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Beaten, bruised, and bloody
Can't somebody help?
A Beast's Wish She had only left the mansion two weeks ago to visit her sick father, but it already felt like ages. Before she left, he gave her his ring, making her promise to return in a week. He remembered her smiling – oh, that smile drove him wild – and saying, “I promise,” before turning, her white horse galloping and disappearing into the mist.A Beast's Wish3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He paced around his garden quietly, missing her more by the minute. The song of the birds was the only thing that stopped everything from falling into an empty silence. His nose was filled with sweet fragrances of lilies, asters, and roses ... Roses – those were her favourite. He would send her a million roses if it meant that she could return to him this instant.
Belle. She was the only girl that he had ever fallen truly in love with. She was beautiful – long auburn hair, warm brown eyes, and a shapely body a man wouldn’t be able to resist. Of course, he had met many other women equally bea
Photograph “Mommy! Look! They handed out the yearbooks today!” Lucy yelled joyfully as she ran down the hall of the great mansion, her shouts echoing off the walls and her stockinged feet pitter-pattering on the linoleum floor. It was the last day of school and she was excited for the two-month-long summer break that stretched gloriously ahead of her.Photograph3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mother turned around, leaving her cooking for the moment. “Really? Let me see, dear.” She wiped her hands on her apron, smiling warmly at the sight of her youngest daughter – her light brown hair astray and her bright blue eyes filled with glee – as she bounded into the kitchen. In her arms she carried a thick, hardcover book.
She gently took the yearbook from her daughter's hands and walked into the living room, settling down comfortably in a sofa. Lucy jumped up beside her. Mother flipped through the pages as she and Lucy laughed at funny pictures and talked about her classmates.
Fragile--FFM Day 7Lindsey Stirling blared from my ear buds and I bobbed my head, furrowing my brow. My hand was shoved deep into my purse, searching for my keys. Instead, I found receipts from the Stone Age, a collection of seashells from last year's vacation, and enough pepper spray to blind at least twenty bears.Fragile--FFM Day 72 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Frustrated, I dumped my portable landfill on the welcome mat; lipstick tubes and loose change bounced across the wood and disappeared, lost beneath the porch. Spreading objects out with my hands, I sighed. No keys. "Damn it all to Hell and back ag--"
Glancing up, the box near my door caught my eye. Wrapped with neon-colored paper, a large skull-and-crossbones bow held a handwritten "FRAGILE" note in place. The colors were garish, clashing with the ivory siding.
Wrinkling my nose, I pulled the package toward me, keys forgotten. The paper was slick, slipping against the pads of my fingertips like silk. Examining the box, I flipped the "FRAGILE" note over--and gasped.
Yanking the ear
dust.I'm chokingdust.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the ink-dipped fingers
of verbs & metaphors
still lodged in this bruised,
paper crane throat;
of your words,
still kissing my ribs.
How can you judge me-
when you don't bother
to read the naked poetry
beneath the temple of my flesh?
How long can butterfly
ankles hold up a
Don't bother whispering
your secrets to nebulae,
not even the dust in my veins
will listen anymore.
I Prayed For RainDear God,I Prayed For Rain3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I prayed for rain yesterday.
Rain to rinse the sprawling greens that lay across my home,
To wash the coats of the goats that graze there, so peacefully,
To clean the mildew from that rotting hut where the old man lives.
To cleanse my lips, for they are dirty with half-hearted lies.
I prayed for a warm, soft rain.
For a cold rain would make the grasses shiver and shrivel, and
the goats to mewl uncomfortably as they retreated into the darkness.
The old man would simply turn and hide in his aging hut of cold, cold stones.
And my lips? They would harden with the lies I coat them with.
I want a shower to dance in.
So the grasses could tickle my feet as I twirled into the light, and
the goats would shyly come forward to watch, to listen to my rhythm
The old, old man might peek between the cracks in the stones,
And laughter would crack at the lies on my lips.
Give me a rain, dear Lord,
for the Sun is burning at the grasses, killing them slowly,
LiarYour words are wovenLiar2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Together so carefully
That no one could possibly
Find a single hole in them.
No one can see the emotions you hide,
Or what you really did last night.
No one can see the real you.
No one, but me.
Blackbird's FeatherBlackbirdBlackbird's Feather3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
sweeping across the snow
left me a feather
and away he goes
and away he goes
drifting up on the air
but I seem to be stuck here
melting in the cold
cannot rip my eyes from the sky
cannot get my fists to unfold
the words have frozen to our tongues
that's what happens to winter love
so you think this feather is enough to make a wing
so you try to free me from it,
but your claws only sting.
i walk away
come to regret every footfall
but I can't keep you down
because you're up
and I'm frozen to the ground
laying pale in the snow
he can soar no more
you didn't have to do that
have to fall on your own sword
cut your wings apart
to get me back home.
and as I see you freeze
I know now what it is I believe
that someone could give up everything
come down to the winter
do you know the secret, Bird?
learn to live with the cold
though you turn blue
the heart beats hot inside of you
I know it
Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I thrive and depend on your compliments
And it is only then as a direct consequence,
Am I truly able to write with confidence.
Even though your words are only temporary.
I deem your contribution as utterly necessary,
In order to refresh my wavering, selective memory.
My own validation depends on your approval.
Whether it is congratulatory or discouragingly brutal.
Your input is the one thing that is most crucial.
Can I call myself a writer if I don't believe in myself?
When I constantly seek approval from everyone else?
How can I then expect to make any sort of wealth?
Of a craft and skill I still think anyone is able to produce.
Is there any point in me putting my apparent talent to use?
When I limit and submit myself into a negative recluse.
I was told I must have self belief in order to achieve,
The dream that I am so desperately trying to receive.
The body can only accomplish what the mind believes.
I know I must rid myself from any form of self doubt.