Thorin's Heart ~ Chapter 1Thorin's Heart ~ Chapter 13 years ago in Romance More Like This
I would give all the gold and jewels under the sun to taste the sweetness of your kiss, hear the melody of your song, and feel the love that envelopes completely as you hold me in your arms.
~Thorin Durin Oakenshield
~ They watched their king stand on the cliff side until she was gone from his sight and then they watched him stand there some time longer. Their great King who had lost so much but seemed to keep fighting for what he wanted and what was rightfully his. The admiration for this dwarf was of the highest respect and dignity and no other would compare. He slowly turned and saw them all staring at him. He looked at each one and saw not pity, but veneration and hope in their eyes. They would fight with him, side by side, to get his kingdom back. To get him back to his love. ~
Chapter 1 ~ A Song in the Night
Kale was playing with Nightrunner who always seemed to find her at night. She ran with him through the soft glow of the moonlit forest that bord
Strangely Fulfilling, Like Rabbit HeartsI was a hawk,Strangely Fulfilling, Like Rabbit Hearts3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a sweeping, broom-winged raptor;
a scent of violent and raw hearts on the air
eating my fill of rabbits—
brown and copper-breath’d,
witch of the western woods
sipping my hemlock-spiked tea.
I distrusted words like “always”—
something about the way the mouth falls open,
the throat muscles that clench, chicken-necked.
Fragility has its dark side,
a biding time, like Snow White
I wonder if you smelled me,
smelled the challenge on my dustland sighs.
I know I could smell the thief on you.
You came from my own forest,
a sleek and curly-haired monster
indigo and antler’d.
You said you hated always, too,
and we smiled our fanged smiles
and readied our claws for the weaknesses we’d found.
So imagine my surprise when
you said the always word yourself—
when I saw your Loki-tongue,
cynical in every tastebud,
rest soft and pink as rabbit innards
against the teeth of your open mouth,
gentle and hoping.
I would not beli
eleven oak treesits funny, the things you remember when someone is taken away from you.eleven oak trees6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
you hold everything you loved and you try so hard to stop it slipping through your fingers but it eventually does, and all that is left are the snippets the snapshots of all your memories horrid and lovely, compiled like a montage
it is three am, wednesday morning, and i'm standing, watching my mother, half sitting, half lying, sprawled out with her arms above her head in the darkened hall way, my father towering over her. I don't really remember what he looks like. He was tall, with dark hair and deep set eyes, shrouded by thick eyelashes and adorned by the beginning of crow's feet. he had a crooked smile that i used to love, with slightly yellowing teeth and dark stubble that grew from his jawline and made me laugh when he would kiss me goodnight. i remember her distorted, screaming face and my learned helplessness as tears graced my smooth, seven year old cheeks.
a year earlier, i remember s
e.e.cummingsThe day you left, I skipped school to see you off.e.e.cummings4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I said, "There are more important things than school."
You said, "I never said there weren't."
Now, I mostly miss you, and usually on Sundays, I make my way to the place where we used to sit out Sunday School. There's still a Bible on the rock where I think you might have left it, and I pick it up and read it. I've never gotten past the gospel of Matthew, because every time I read it I see you staring at the sky and asking if Heaven's hypothetical.
There were stars in the sky that night, and you said you used to think they were god shining through a curtain.
Once we talked about Our Father who Art in Heaven and you told me that if you were a believer, you'd say both your fathers art in heaven, and hallowed be their names.
I remember the day I skipped fourth block, and we sat on the rocks and smoked. You told me it wasn't good to abandon my education, so you taught me e.e.cummings-
"I like my body when it is with your
I learned t
from stardust to -let's dance. you and me, and all the lonely people from stardust to -5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like it's the eve of the revolution that's about to change the world,
and all you can hear is the song of captivity.
we can touch the ground and we can touch the sky,
and perhaps the wind has never felt so free, but dancing -
oh, we'll dance in the space in-between.
and they'll sing as we waltz across infinity, about you, and about me,
because nothing makes sense,
and all the world's gone to pieces.
time is short, and short is the time,
tomorrow is coming.
we may be in the gutter -
maybe we're all in the gutter -
but we'll be looking at the stars.
Old SoulsDoc says I’m an oldOld Souls2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
soul, with my postcards
and letters, and waste-no-words
policy. Doc says old souls still make eye
contact instead of playing with iPhones,
mirrors that stare back, and tell
us who we are by knowing
who they are.
Doc tells me I’m an old
soul in a young body, taming
wild Internets and bringing my words
to heel like a triple score
in a game of Scrabble.
That I was born in the wrong
decade, that I was meant to punch
typewriter keys like a boxer,
that the twenty-first century
wasn’t made for old souls like mine.
Doc thinks I’m too old
to be twenty-three, constantly forgetting
the barriers of my few years.
Like that I never wrote about myself
until he gave me moments
worth writing down, and cared
about the person behind the words.
That I learned who I was by learning
who he was, and drew a timeline
of intersection points where each
node became a poem, and each poem
became a stepping stone.
Doc unearthed an old
soul in my notebook.
Old like a favori
on drowning, swimming, and the difference thereintwo girls are swimming in two lanes, separate with a timer overheadon drowning, swimming, and the difference therein2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
counting up their seconds. it’s a race to first, to the end of the lane,
to the medals and the glory and the place where water turns into land
and the dry hugs that wait there. it’s a race and
there’s a winner in the pool right now and it’s
either the girl with the red swim cap
or the one whose goggles fall off as soon as
she hits the water.
they are both in high school and they both do not know the other’s name.
the girl with the loose goggles is the crowd’s f
Jesus SmokesI've decidedJesus Smokes6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that if Jesus came to Earth now,
he'd probably smoke cigarettes
and always fall in love
with the wrong person.
If we wake up at night
and can't get back to sleep,
I could teach him
how to un-love his neighbor
and he could tell me
what the salty water feels like
under his feet.
He might wear his hair in a ponytail
and his eyes would crinkle when he smiles,
and I would smile too,
and in a small voice ask him what hell was like,
and is there any way to get someone back
if they've already gone too far?
He would take a drag on his cigarette,
nod kindly at the two boys holding hands,
and say that hell is more a state of being
than an afterlife, and no amount of love
can rescue someone from their own mind.
I thought so, I would say, not mentioning
the nights I've cried myself to sleep
Combat ZonesHe wakes up in Vietnam every night,Combat Zones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
boot-clad feet trudging over mined ground,
trigger finger numb, back sore,
fatigue drenched from the monsoons,
and he prays to go home to her.
He finds himself next to her every morning,
dark bags under her eyes telling him
his twitching kept her awake again.
At breakfast she throws the dishes
and cries as the china shatters against the wall—
cries that she’s living in a combat zone
with a man who’s battling himself.
"Is there anything more destructive
than war?" she asks, and he looks at her
and says, “Love."
(the good kind of) purgingdear mom,(the good kind of) purging2 years ago in Letters More Like This
i know i've written you dozens of letters in my life and none of them have made their way to your hands, but just maybe this one will.
because this year, i will take this paper and plunge it into the earth where not a bit of your bones rest, but roses in your memory grow. on christmas, when the rest of the world is opening presents, i will drive too fast to the ocean where you sleep. i will run barefoot on the jetties you warned me never to step on until my feet string with salt and split open from shells. and this time, i will not be a self-fulfilling prophecy. i will not tumble myself heart-first into the sea where we laid you to rest, but stand at the edge and scream above the tumult of waves and your voice carrying in the wind. i will tell you i'm sorry, sorry for every time my hands misplaced themselves down my throat and found their ways inside my skin. sorry for lining myself with morse code, and never showing you a single message. sorry for swallowing sorr
CheersHere’s to all those rude awakeningsCheers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
those things we swore we’d never do but did anyway
those silently deafening times and deafeningly silent times
and every decibel in between.
Here’s to the nights we thought we were lost
the nights we really were lost
and the nights we had nothing more to lose.
Here’s to us spinning our heads in knots
over unanswerable questions like why we existed
and whether this life was all we had.
Here’s to when we realized dreams can be caught
if you only have the courage to chase them
and sometimes when you let yourself fall
you discover how unbreakable you are
how unbreakable you always were.
Here’s to every time you told me I had enough
to live for, just being me
and to the moments you proved I did
by being you.
a flock of 426 geesethe city spun under our feet like a flock of 426 geesea flock of 426 geese3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that doesn't know which way home is.
and it seems as though the compass of our innards
is pointed forever south.
so we sink into each other's melancholy
like coins bearing wishes that sound all too much like prayers.
i haven't been to church for a good 5 months,
but the temple of your body keeps me from faltering.
your crown crashes against mine
and for the first time since the sky cracked open,
i feel like royalty.
there is a castle nestled atop a nameless hill where
a nameless king kneels to his subjects. i don't know
what to call you anymore, but we will follow
the abandoned railroads until we stumble across this
kingdom and name it resilience.
i've never seen you cry.
if we crawled into a lion's den and built a fort of our secrets,
the walls would never crumble around us, but yours would.
maybe then you would know freedom.
the definition of reckless abandon - leaving
circles for the flock of 426 geese to follow.
Bastard Sons of GodThe bar is small with a huge mirror behind the front counter that reflects the sunlight pouring in through the windows. Cameron and Mikey sit next to each other on bar stools at the front counter, drinking Adios Motherfuckers. For a long moment no words are passed between them, but then Mikey breaks the silence. “Don’t worry, man,” he says, clapping Cameron on the back. “You’ll find someone else.”Bastard Sons of God3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
“I don’t want to,” Cameron replies.
“That’s what everyone says, and then it happens—you meet someone, you hit it off, the feelings come back, and then bam, you’re back to square one. Relationship status: taken. And everything’s cool.”
Cameron looks down into his half-gone Adios Motherfucker. “She was different.”
“They’re all different. Listen, when I lost Kim, I lost my goddamn mind. She was my whole world, man. I thought she was my soul mate. I didn’t know how the he
Five Seasons (Alternate) There was this moment, early last May, when I could have glanced up from the book I was reading at the breakfast table.Five Seasons (Alternate)3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I could look out my window and see you standing on my lawn, this waif in a windbreaker grinning at a daydream you're probably too old for. I could bring you an umbrella. I could invite you in for coffee, and we could lose the whole day debating questionable Scrabble plays. We could take to the streets after dark and try to find an all-night diner that will feed us both for less than fifteen dollars. I could fall in love with you.
But I don't.
You go home with nothing but a story about how springtime leaves you feeling lonely. Your roommate blows off a dinner date to take you out for drinks. You send a Chardonnay up to the stage between sets and the singer takes you home.
The new girl at work works up the nerve to ask me out.
I don't have a reason to say no.
Feelings with no namesi.Feelings with no names3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message yet, let alone formulated time to write a reply, but you still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by and rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from Grandma Moses.
The noise of a faraway car driving late at night, or perhaps early in the morning, in that sleepy place somewhere between consciousness and dreaming where everything is warm and vaguely fuzzy. The remote sound of tires on asphalt speaks to a sense of curiosity – where are they going? Why so early? – but the blankets are so heavy, your eyes are so heavy, and before you can wonder anymore, the car is long gone and you are long gone, carving out a hollow place to rest in just a few hours more.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that y
Our Kingdom ComeI have a theory.Our Kingdom Come2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My theory is that when you die, as your life flashes before your eyes and your body puts up its last pitiful fight for life before shutting down, you realize what your purpose was, and that's when you know who you truly are.
It's not exactly testable, which means professional scientists wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole, but I think in my condition a little baseless theory ain't the worst I could do.
I'm 25 years old and dying.
I'm going young, I know. I can't begin to tell you how many people are disappointed that I'm clocking out early. Can't say I wanted it is this way. If I could go back in time and prevent the accident from happening I would. But of course I can't, so all I'm left with is this: this hospital bed, these tubes, these slow, labored breaths, these thoughts. All these things that don't matter much because I can't take them with me.
Then again, what can I take?
What actually goes with you when you die?
I have to be honest, I'm not all that b
PencilPencil, Pencil in your standPencil5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Smoothest ebony in my hand
Tell my dreams, create my myths
A graphite diamond in my grip
Hexagonal beauty tall and fine
Carve my vision from just one line
Blankest page of purest white
Stands no chance against your might
When my mind is clouded and blue
The only thing I need is you
You soothe my pain and heal my wounds
Fascinated my hand moves
Deepest trance and sweetest bliss
As I watch the sharp'ner twist
And once again you are renewed
Till I need you again to lift my mood
Scars and SoapHe has such soft skin, Ebony thought to herself.Scars and Soap3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She was sitting on a twist of metal embedded in the ground, the dingy red of its form reflecting on the crystalline surface of nearby water. Her metallic fingers twiddled in the flowers, gently caressing the pale petals that would soon decorate the entire expanse of the area.
They were modest little flowers. Fresh from the ground and eager to bathe the barren world in color. In fact, everything around the little pond Ebony and Male had decided to rest at was beginning to show signs of life. Little sprouts could be seen tentatively peaking from under scraps of metal and concrete. Green moss and vines were tenaciously climbing up the sides of the crumbling buildings. Cool, clean water was gently lapping at Ebony’s shoes. It was so serene it was almost surreal.
A small smile graced Ebony’s glossy lips. It was good that she and Male had decided to rest here. It was unusual to come across a place this untouched by the horro
NamelessA nameless creature jammed into a nameless space located in an unknowable location was all that stood between Experiment 726 and what he considered to be the Endless Stream of Creation itself. The creature was large and menacing, but seemingly beautiful to behold. Experiment 726 crinkled his eyelids at the creature that stood before him, frustratingly unable to comprehend all but the most simple adjectives about it. And yet… it was as clear as day and cold as night.Nameless3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Cold. That was something you could call it, 726 mused. It was one of a very limited number of describing words that he could muster about this impossible place, because no matter how much he looked or analysed anything, nothing seemed to make much sense.
“Why come here?” The nameless creature demanded. “And how? No creature such as yourself should even be capable of getting here.”
“I'm just lucky?” 726 tried. “I honestly don’t know.”