Last Scream His breathing was so rapid by this point that it was the only thing he could hear. He couldn't hear his footsteps racing against the stone, the creak of his lantern, nor the ever so growing scream of the beast.
It wasn't so long ago that he had been sitting on the bank side with his friend, chatting oh so carelessly about how life was rolling along. They laughed at old memories of childhood and began constantly murmuring about their great ambitions. The friend had just received management of an old bank outside of Edinburgh, and he himself had just proposed to dear Marjorie, the daughter of a wealthy merchant. "La vie est belle." He remembered saying.
The sweat now plastered his dark hair to his face and burned his eyes. His lips were hard and chalked from dehydration. Oil from the lantern had spilled upon his fingers; burning and melting the skin so it clung to its rusted handle. At this moment, he no longer had any consci
The Final PunishmentNo thoughts could enter his mind, but if he could wish for something, it would be for nothing at all. There was no longer any desire in his heart, for at last it's flame had dissolved in streams of blood it had ignored. The monster inside him was gone, as too himself.The Final Punishment3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Their grip tighten around his wrist, and they pulled him forward deeper against the stone pavement. He could feel the glares of the imperial guard intense with hatred run across his browned bare back and almost singe his white speckled wings to pieces. Their powder white uniform were purelessly clean, the buttons reflecting the high noon sun also evilly.
Thrown onto the silver platform, guards surrounded his busily clicking chains around his feet, hands, and finally his neck. Ropes rubbed angrily against his feathers, and a few fell to the ground sparingly. He looked up into the face of his undiscovered equal.
People of White called him their steel hero; People of Red called him the brutal monster. His eyes were black as
Dreams: My First PoemHer small handsDreams: My First Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wrapped around the bars so tighly
She stares out into the sky
stars shimmering so brightly
She dreams of life
of freedom and happiness
She dreams of hope
of a future and prosperity
Dreams of adventure
of other worlds and people
Dreams of him
her unnamed knight
She ignores the truth
Of the world and agony
She ignores her fingers
freezing to the metal
She ignores the fact her dreams are not reality
A Morning for The White RabbitWaking up at dawn must be the most fulling part of a day a person can achieve, not that the average population would even attempt such an endeavor. But for those that do, looking forward to that moment proves to be the drive behind getting out of bed and facing the many sufferings the day might bring.A Morning for The White Rabbit2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This all is the main point William keeps in his mind this early dawn morning as he quietly sipped his tea, cozily wrapped in his lavender blanket. The chilly morning breeze caressed his face warning him that he shouldn't stay on the balcony long, for the pale complex of the tip of his nose would soon turn pink and he would not enjoy spending his already busy day with a hankerkief pressed against his face.
He chose to ignore this notion though as the sun began to pick up it's pace as it rose quickly over the horizon. The world from the view of a castle's tower was so different already, but as the hues of red and orange cascade upon the trees and rivers, and even the distant fields of Whi
ReaderxGermany:MarchingBand!"Snap out of it. Snap out of it." You thought repeatedly. "Someone's going to notice you staring." You couldn't help it though. People rustled around you restless from hours of standing. They all, or at least most, were watching the director as he displayed the complex visual, which you already had down. It smelled like sweat and sunscreen as the breeze picked up for the first time in what seemed like hours. The tan snare player infront of you leaned his head back to enjoy this, but you couldn't care less. It was officially the second week of band camp and you were to busy staring at the drum major.ReaderxGermany:MarchingBand!3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Ludwig, or Mr. SuperUberLudwigAmadeusMozartPants as Front Ensemble like to call him, stood ten feet behind the director, bristling with sweat as he practiced his conducting motions over and over and over and over.....okay now don't get too into it, again. It was mid-way through the day and the thick gel that encased his hair in a shell had broken broken and sweated away, causing
Gift for MechanicMochaThe little pink haired tsundere sat on the fuzzy carpet, her tiny little pout consuming her face. In her hands was a small green plate with only a fork and reminiscents of a carrot cake. She deeply missed that petite slice of cake, but there was no way she was going to stand back to get more. A tear began to swelled up in her left eye.Gift for MechanicMocha3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"But it's not...not," she shuttered, "Fair!" The tsundere started sobbing and her ears flopped over in sadness. She ignored the sounds of scuffling as others walked into the room at her commotion and their numerous questions.
"Niahime-chan! What's wrong Niahime?" Was the main thing that remained unanswered by her sobs, but it only took them a couple moments to realize what had happened. Something plopped onto Niahime plate with a thud.
She opened her eyes and her sobs ended with a halt, almost making people question whether they were actually real. Another delicious piece of carrot cake stood on her plate, much bigger than the piece she had had bef
The HatterThe hatter worked in the soft glow of a candle which had been burning for hours. Its wax had begun spilling onto the beaten wooden workshop table, leaving a terrible smell of lard. He wouldn't have noticed though. As all hatters, he was immersed in his work. His fingers worked diligently, softly and gently pulling the needle, threading the material of the fabric together. As simple as a hat might sound to you, to him it was much more complex. A hat can say many things about a person in his opinion. How rich or poor. How dull or creative. How hard working or lethargic. The hatter smiled, flashing his purely white teeth as the last pieces and fabric were brought together. Beautiful, he thought. A sharp rap came on the door. His lips twitched in annoyance.The Hatter3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Come in." He sighed. The door opened, its rusted hinges creaking. He didn't bother to turn around, he could already feel his father's eyes pierce his back.
"The bathroom smelled of dye again Algernon." His father said in a m
WORDSRumors hurt.WORDS3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They say that
Words are a
But I have
A different opinion
That describes words
In a simple way.
Words are roses
With beautiful petals
But remember they
Still have thorns.
Goodbye AliceInitially, I thought there would be a lot more great deal of pain when it came to dying. But in the end, it only was an intense heavy and numb feeling, almost like you were hit in the head with a large block of ice. The only notion really that I was really even dying was the metallic taste in my mouth, and the haze in my eyes. I looked at her, her young girlish features tainted by the splatter of my blood. Her eyes remained opened, as if she were to be strangled, and her mouth twitched wildly, most likely from shock. It was sad that that was going to be the expression she wore the last time I saw her. I really don't think I had ever seen anyone as scared as she was at that moment, and if I had had time to reflect on it, I would have been frightened too. With a great jolt, I felt the muscles in my body let go, giving up on my hope. As I fell on top of her, I managed to whisper,Goodbye Alice3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Best FriendI tend to play with it a lot. My fingers run across it's ridges and bends. It still smelled like the ocean, a scent that without it, I probably would of forgotten. I find it funny, how it rolls around in my hand, almost like it wants to run away, but don't we all? It's so small. So meaningful. A gift from a friend, a best friend.Best Friend3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
We were at the shore, hiding from the lady who always gave the children spankings. It was a great place for us to hide, for we both loved the sound of the water lapping the beach. She laughed as we built small houses out of the sand, only to be destroyed within moments of their creation by the incoming waves. That's when she found it. A shell, white as anything seemed to get in the foggy sunless coast line.
She loved that shell so much. It always had a safe home in her pocket, with no fear of getting lost or abandoned. She carried it for three years before that one day. The day she left.
I should have been happy for her, a new home with new parents, but I wasn
SuspensionI’m sick of your rule.Suspension3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I’m sick of your reign.
I’m sick of your laws.
I’m sick of your domain,
Which is hell.
I’m sick of your judgment,
Which is unfair.
I’m sick of your being here,
So I’m going to rebel.
The food grown was worthless,
Cause the soil is empty
From your “great” battles.
Clothing and shelter
Never gave our protection
From nature’s merciless forces
And we had to pay our earnings
To your continuous debt
That will never be filled.
You said you were doing
This for us
But we say you
Building your manor of mirrors
Right from our backyards.
Is that what you’re doing
With our earnings—
Materials for your house?
We knew you were bad from the start
But forgot it when you came to rule.
Everyone went along with
What you said
Including me but
I never belived you.
It’s all your ignorance
That got us into this mess
And now you’ll going to pay for it!
Hatred and anger has
Been building up over the years
ChoicesSometimes I hateChoices3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the choices I
proven my life
PleasePlease,Please2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Stop acting so cold.
Squeeze back on my hold.
I don't want you to leave.
Understand that I can see
That you hurt so much more than me.
Poor AlicePoor AlicePoor Alice2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Childish story in hand
Why does Alice still dream of Wonderland?
Deeply enveloped in her own mind
What does she expect to find?
A White Rabbit as he scudders on his way?
A pampered Duchess ranting about her day?
These are stupid notions to think might be
For there is no glass table with holding a key
There is no Queen in marvelous hues
No March Hare trying to make his dues.
And after all these years I am sad to find
Poor little Alice is still trapped inside her own mind.
Ten Years From NowI will be married.Ten Years From Now3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My father will be dead.
My mother will be crazy.
I'll finally be happy,
Living the life I want to live.
Ghosts in the FlaskThe elixir swirlsGhosts in the Flask2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Captive, to the confines of my girth
Jolting, my skin and bones to life!
As I heave the consequences of my clouded earth!
I dragged my pathetic frame
Spewed my deathly sorrows
Then burrowed inside of my hallow shell
And the words came to pass
Pestered, by my empty promises
My every crushed commitment
And a legion of slurred compliments
I cradled my skull
Shutting out the onslaught of guilt
Whilst heaving my tainted guts
With moist pupils, captured in red
Along with these devilish ghosts
The lessons learned, also shall not pass
After the Battle After the BattleAfter the Battle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
After the battle, she finally got the moment to lay down.
Sadness, anger, frustration, hate.
It seemed to have come in all directions at the time.
The Story of a Homeless Young GirlThere she lies on dirty pillowsThe Story of a Homeless Young Girl2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Scratching the bottoms of sidewalks
Some people wish for a house made of gold
Well, she just wishes for a home.
Some people wish for a lovely dinner
While she simply wishes for a meal.
But a smile lies
On her innocent face
For she does not yet know greed.
Keep in mind the girl's young age
Her innocence toward anger and rage.
A girl with the eyes filled with silent pain
But nevertheless, a smile on her face.
One day a man came about
And offered her something to eat.
Two apples and a bread of wheat.
She took some bread crumbs and gave them to the birds
Without crying a tear or saying a word.
So she split what remained of the bread right in two
And gave him one of the fruit.
"Let's share it," she said, with a grin on her face
"For there's nobody else willing to."
The JourneyBeneath my skin, my veins pulse with desireThe Journey3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To know why I am here.
As I journey to find the answers to life,
I sail through the monotonous seas
That stretch forever beyond the horizon.
As my ship sails towards the dry land,
Mountains tower before me,
Filling me with both awe and intimidation.
But the mountains are eroding as time passes by,
Into merely fragments of what they once were.
I move my eyes and watch the glaciers
Melt slowly into rivers.
But even though they disappear,
They melt to provide water for all life on this planet.
You could say rivers are created by glaciers for a purpose.
I ponder those mountains and glaciers as the scenery
Changes to a monotonous desert.
Hot sand spreads around my feet,
And the heat drains away my energy.
I travel onward, searching for answers in the heavens above.
I look on as the starry sky stretches before me
Like a blanket concealing what lies beyond
The world as I know it.
The stars merely pins on a map
Beckon me to explore them.
But there is
Falling ButterfliesThere lies a girl in a forest so deadFalling Butterflies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With a thought, just a thought, living inside her head
A thought of a world with no furious knights
A world with a dream in the darkest of nights
There lies a girl with a thought in her mind
Something the others simply left behind
A thought of a world of imagination
Where everyone lives in their own creations
A girl living in an imaginary place
With fire in the rain and a smile on her face
There lies a girl with a new point of view...
There lies a girl looking up towards you
There lies a girl, with a knife in her flesh
Life was not a place filled with happiness
What was the point of surviving at all
If every butterfly flies only to fall?
Seven Sins 1: Lust (The Squire)What is this mindless mood I mourn?Seven Sins 1: Lust (The Squire)3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I brush her bloody hands as she ignores my cries,
And I will not hate but say heed these sighs.
Once I desired her darling delight,
As I perished by poison to forget about her pitiful plight.
Her face fixes it's gaze upon mine,
Bordered with raven hair knotted and bold,
Was she really young or was my heart too old?
How I would watch her from atop a white hill,
Waiting until sad skies hailed a stormy sign.
What is this elusive emotion I elope?
I touch her taut lips as she walks by me,
And I do not stop but ask when will she see?
Once I lusted her loving lamentation,
As I stared in silence for her scarlet seduction.
Her face fades it's smile away now,
Sullied with pale rain marred and still,
Was she really evil or was my mind too ill?
How I would wander to see her in a red town,
Tormenting until glad ghosts wailed a grisly glow.
What is this fearsome feeling I feel?
I catch her cold eyes as she passes me by,
And I cannot help but ask why did she die?
The Unspoken StoryA book lies upon a desk, dust caked to it, a single hand print not upon it. Its spine is stiff and sturdy from not a single person reading it. And its pages are clean from the oils from fingers. Each day, practically every hour, a new paragraph is miraculously written along its pages, either creating a new chapter or an entirely new section. So far, the pages are uncountable, for there are already over a thousand and so, beginning from the birth of its author and continuing on until their death.The Unspoken Story2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The author is in her late teen years and yet her story has not been told. And she has not yet seen what her life has truly been like, for she has drunken herself in reality. She may subconsciously know what she has become through her terrorizing dreams, bellowing her deadliest moments. But once she awakens and stirs upright drenched in sweat, she shrugs off the facts and lays back down.
Still, the book lies upon her desk concealed by many others with titles imprinted along their spines. If eyes
The CarverHe barely touched her skin as his paint brush gently floated above. The paint so carefully finished the designs that made up her eyes. The artisan straightened his back from its hunched position that it had been in for days, if you didn't count the moment he needed to refill or sharpen his tools. He stared down at his masterpiece, his steel blue eyes inspecting every crevice of her body. Perfect. Not a single default in the crafting.The Carver3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Only from an arm's length away would you notice her bodies still rigidness, or the very acute gloss of her skin. That it was only but a wood figure, skillfully carved and painted into a young women of large deep brown eyes and dark mahogany hair. It was almost her, he thought silently. The shack of a house they inhabited then shook violently with the thunder of a canon. His eyebrows scrunched. The battlefield was getting close.
"How are you my dear. It's been a long time." He whispered quietly. "Elisabeth." His calloused fingers ran o