Elf vs. Orc 8Celadon woke up in the elf's arms.Elf vs. Orc 8 in Fantasy More Like This
This sounded a lot more romantic than it actually was.
For one thing, learning to sleep in proximity to another person is an acquired skill. You learn what to do with the arm that always seems to get stuck between you and where to put your feet and whether they mind having a leg draped over theirs and who can use whose arm as a pillow without nerve damage or a sore neck. Then there's the whole complex negotiation of blanket treaties and sheets and who gets what and who needs layers and who has to stick their feet out.
Without acquiring these vital habits, you wake up pretty much like Celadon—stiff, sore, with a knee wedged into your ribs and blankets tangled around both of them like sleeping anacondas.
While it's traditional when parties of the opposite sex find themselves entangled for someone's hands to be in an embarrassing position, that actually wasn't the case. She was pretty much in the elf's lap, where one of his knees was up and digging into
The DressOver the years, people have gone to truly extraordinary lengths in pursuit of fashion. A catalog of peculiar gowns would fill several volumes, even without getting into bizarre hats, wigs, gloves, codpieces, shoes, eyeglasses, and all manner of other demented accessories, and I will not so tax the reader except to mention a few highlights.The Dress in Fantasy More Like This
Dresses of strange materials are not uncommon. Among the oddest were the mycorrhiza gown of Milicent von Pratt, a wrap of finest fungal threads. This sensational outfit required almost two weeks to put on, requiring Lady von Pratt to paint herself with an agar and compost growth medium and lay prone in a fungal bed for most of that time. It was only worn once, and deteriorated significantly during the course of the evening, requiring her ladyship to retire quickly from the entertainments.
And then there was the finchbone dress worn by the Dowager Duchess of Eastmarch, made from the tiny skeletons of nearly a thousand finches, carefully wrapped and hu
Elf vs. Orc 4She let him go. She couldn't do much else. He was an elf, sure, but there were rules, and you didn't kill healers and you didn't kill priests.Elf vs. Orc 4 in Fantasy More Like This
The rage had to go somewhere. You couldn't go from halfway to gnawing your shield back to normal just like that. Celadon swallowed it, bitterly, the stone shattering, the red sea pouring through the wreckage. She threw her head back and snarled with the pain.
The elf lay sprawled on the ground beside the bed, holding his throat, his eyes closed. He was breathing in tight little gasps. She could have stomped on his head, but of course she wouldn't.
She was furious. Mostly at herself, truth be told. It had been so obvious. He'd checked her bandages, he hadn't been wearing armor, and this was as far from a cell as you could get. What more did she need, a sign saying "Non-combatant, please do not throttle," in several languages? But she'd been so mad—and scared, yes, let's be honest with ourselves—that she hadn't seen past the Enemy.
Elf vs. Orc 6He got a nasty start a few hours later, when he came in to check on her.Elf vs. Orc 6 in Fantasy More Like This
He'd tied her hands, her feet, thrown a loop or two around her waist, and roped everything to the bed, the chair, and the fire iron, just for good measure, He'd done everything short of hog-tying. She wasn't going to get loose in a hurry.
He wasn't sure why he was bothering, really, since he had a horrible feeling that if she said "Will you untie me?" he might do it, and if she said "please," he'd definitely do it.
Still, she didn't seem to be a threat conscious, so maybe that was okay.
Then, because his feelings were still churning and there was nothing for emotional turmoil like hard work, he'd gone off, fed the chickens and the gargoyle, picked peas, turned the compost heap, washed his hands and made soup. By the end, he was really quite exhausted, and ready for at least a nap in his chair.
Then he came back in to discover that her fever had vanished and she was shivering violently with cold.
Elf vs. Orc 7This was easier said than done.Elf vs. Orc 7 in Fantasy More Like This
She gave him some very practical suggestions about how to tie the ropes. A bit of slack between the feet, enough to shuffle, not enough to run. A rope around the neck as a kind of leash in case she attacked him. He could tell she'd done this sort of thing before.
Sings-to-Trees, at that point, would have been happy just untying her completely and pointing her in the direction of the outhouse, but he had a horrible feeling he'd disappoint her if he didn't at least try to hold up his end. So he steeled himself to stay awake a bit longer and got the ropes set up, and hauled her out of the bed.
Then she wound up needing to use him as a crutch anyway, since her knees kept buckling, so it was a bit of a moot point.
"Can you hold this?" he asked, handing her the leash rope after a few brutal hops toward the door.
"What if I try to escape?"
He sighed. "Just yank it if you feel yourself getting any ideas."
She started laughing, then they took another step and the
Elf vs. Orc 2Celadon Toadstool was delirious.Elf vs. Orc 2 in Fantasy More Like This
The funny bit—uproariously funny, it seemed to her—was that she knew she was delirious. The world was billowing around her. It looked as if someone had meticulously painted the inside of a cottage on silk, and then hung it in a gentle breeze. The corners floated inward and collapsed back out again with a sigh.
That someone would go to all that trouble, painting a cottage on silk, was hilarious.
She knew she was wounded. She couldn't quite remember how she'd been wounded. Imagine not remembering a thing like that!
This also struck her as hilarious.
Her name, in Orcish, was Urrsharruk-gah, and she had skin the delicate gray-green of the gills of cave mushrooms, and eyes the color of stolen gold. Her hair was thick and dark and she wore it tucked under her helmet to keep enemies from being able to grab it, which was problematic, because she'd lost her helmet somewhere along the way, and she wasn't in the best of shape anyway.
Even in her immense good humor
Saints of San AxolotlEcho birds are as common as muck, and about the same color. Theyre found only in San Axolotl, where they scurry along the paving stones and under the tables of the street cafes, through trash-clogged back alleys and down the walks of rooftop gardens, looking for scraps and seeds. Once you leave the city, though, the echo bird population tapers off within five miles, and the only specimens anywhere else in the world have glass eyes and are wired to their perches.Saints of San Axolotl in Fantasy More Like This
Echo birds are not mimics. There are all kinds of mimics in the bird kingdom, from the pygmy mynah to the rare and savage Cassowary Macaw, whose repertoire generally consists of the screams and curses of its last unfortunate victim. Mimicry is no longer a particularly impressive trick. Any old parrot, with time and patience, can learn to whistle the national anthem and make obscene comments, or both at the same time.
The echo bird, however, does something quite beyond mimicry. If you encounter an echo bird, all you will s
Miss Tansybaum's CarnivalBy all accounts, Miss Tansybaum's Circus of the Moderately Peculiar should not have continued to operate. They were a very small operation as circuses went, they had no rides and their menagerie consisted of a single geriatric lion and a handful of obscure species, such as the Sudanese Crooning Lizards, who were obscure for a reason. Sure, Brendan the Mono-juggler could keep a single ball in the air for hours, but you got tired of watching after the first few minutes.Miss Tansybaum's Carnival in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Lord Maggothaunch's Carnival of the Un-Ordinary should have crushed them out of existence in the first year--indeed, that was among the lord's stated goals--and its failure to do so was a source of intense frustration for him. Did he not have scantily clad women and a genuine, if sullen tiger? Did he not have a genuine freakshow, with real live freaks, including a pair of dubious Siamese twins and a two-headed calf in a jar?
Miss Tansybaum did not have a freakshow (at least not in the conventional sense, although the less
It Has Come To My AttentionIt has come to my attentionIt Has Come To My Attention in Free Verse More Like This
that people like me
are generally not welcome in fairy tales.
It's the talking birds that do it.
The minute a sparrow shows up to pipe a direful warning
it's all over
down at the first hurdle
The body in the fifty-fathom well
will have to wait
the old woman turned into a hare
the murdered mother in the juniper tree
as I whip out my Sibley guide and look for the entry
with the fieldmark labeled capable of human speech.
For this crime
I have been accused of a failure of wonder
of having chained up my inner child and sent her
to work in the salt mines.
But the truth
(if you really want to know)
is that I have read too many fairy tales
and lived a bit too long
to be surprised by anything that happens in
the cottages of lonely woodcutters.
I can even venture a guess
to why the bear speaks with the voice of a maiden
(my heart goes out to her)
and why, when the animal has saved your life,
you will be required to make a harp out of its bones.
These are o
It Was A DayIt was a day a little bit like todayIt Was A Day in Free Verse More Like This
the way the clouds threw shadows over the hill
the day you realized that you weren’t going to find your future.
You were never going to go to Mars
You were never going to open the door that led, inexorably, to Narnia
(or even Telmar, you weren’t picky, and you were confident of your ability
to lead the revolution.)
Inigo Montoya was not going to slap you on the back
and invite you to take up the mantle of the Dread Pirate Roberts.
There would be no sardonic Vulcans or Andorians;
you would never be handed an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.
That was a strange day.
It ranked up there with the day that you realized that everybody else saw the you in the mirror, not the you inside your head. Not the you that was lean and tough and clever, not the you with perfect hair and a resonant voice that never said “Um….?”
Not that you.
No, they got the one that was fat and wobbly and stiff inside with
Bleeding Heartstrings Ch. 1Bleeding HeartstringsBleeding Heartstrings Ch. 1 in Fantasy More Like This
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
Peace was not a luxury that came upon the people often during these times. The 'Waring States' as they were called were just that and Japan found itself longing for the calm after the storm. Both civilians and warriors alike yearned for the peace their homeland had once flourished in. But the feudal lords of the separated kingdoms were greedy for more territory and the power that came with it, and all citizens of the nation were drawn into the war in one fashion or another. Although as many innocents were spared as possible, casualties were still abundant and there was talk among the common people of rebellion. Though a simple farmer could do little in battle against a skilled samurai, they had far more numbers and if mutiny should break out, they would be a formidable opponent indeed. It was for this reason that the lords tried their best to keep their subjects as content as possible while war reined down on them.
Nature of the Beast- Part 5Nature of the BeastNature of the Beast- Part 5 in Fantasy More Like This
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
A soft groan escaped the hybrid as his eyes slowly opened again. His mind felt hazy… like he was recovering from a car wreck. His whole body ached with a dull throbbing pain, nothing serious really, just annoying. He sat bolt upright suddenly with a gasp, his paw moving to his stomach. He looked down with bewildered eyes to see that his wound had healed completely, though crimson still stained his fur. A soft rustling to his side made Abyssinian's ear swivel in that direction and he glanced over to see Hauk perched on the back of the couch, the metal bat they kept as protection in the hall closet slung over his shoulder as he stared down coldly at the recovered hybrid.
"So you finally woke up… Took you long enough…"
Abyss frowned at his friend's icy tone and distant stare. His spliced eyes gazed at the bat and he lowered his head, re examining where he knew he'd been stabbed earlier.
"Yeh, I gave you some when you blac
Life Without LoveLife Without LoveLife Without Love in Fantasy More Like This
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
Abyssinian sat on the balcony of the house he shared with his friend and companion of sorts, Hauk. He didn't know what it was for sure… couldn't quite place where it had emerged from… but he was incredibly depressed. He rested, slouched over a bit to lean his arms on his legs, hooves hooked over the banister railing as he balanced with surprising ease on top of it. The tall hybrid was accustomed to perching atop things high up above the rest of the world. Although this balcony was not that far off the ground, it gave him the same sense of freedom as if it were twenty stories high. He sighed softly; hooding his two-toned eyes as he watched the sun begin it's decent over the city. Hauk didn't need to make his presence known verbally for Abyss to acknowledge he was there.
"Must you insist on using that particular term Abyss?"
Hauk frowned a bit disdainfully at the context of his room mate calling him by such an affect
Nature of the Beast- Part 6Nature of the BeastNature of the Beast- Part 6 in Fantasy More Like This
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
The wind was howling like a banshee in Abyssinian's ears as he finally awoke. He groaned deeply, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck in pain, his paw digits gingerly caressing the indented punctures left by Icarus' fangs. His whole body ached again, every muscle screaming about the abuse they had taken the last few days. He grumbled softly to himself as he stood, looking out over the bluff across the raging ocean below. He blinked his eyes against the stinging wind and gazed at his surroundings, lifting a paw to shade his eyes as sheets of icy rain drenched him from the thundering dark clouds above. He stepped back slightly and shivered… This was familiar…
His heart rate picked up as he heard something hard grind against gravel behind him and spun only to have Hauk standing there a few paces away. Abyss felt hot tears prick his eyes as he saw the long twisted horns and shimmering blades come to life from his nightmare only a month
Nature of the Beast- Part 2Nature of the BeastNature of the Beast- Part 2 in Fantasy More Like This
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
It had been three days since the arrival of Angel and Icarus, three days since Abyssinian's disappearance into the dark waters of the ocean. Hauk was standing on the balcony, looking out across the cityscape as the night lights twinkled. He sighed, leaning down enough to rest his head on his arms which were folded on the balcony banister. His ears drooped slightly and his good eye stared into space as for, if not the thousandth time that day alone, he wondered where his friend was… if he was even still alive out there somewhere. Semema came up behind her father and lightly touched his shoulder, making him jump. He looked over at her softly, grateful for her company these last few days. It was too hard being at the house alone… Abyss was everywhere. Memories, items, even his scent… it was everywhere he looked, in everything he touched… Even sleeping in his own bed was driving him crazy and the couch was no better… He'd barely slept at all,
Wedding Crashers- Part 2Wedding CrashersWedding Crashers- Part 2 in Fantasy More Like This
By: Ashen Ravenwing
At The Wedding…
The ceremony itself had been incredibly dull. A bunch of people Hauk didn't know, and more importantly didn't care to. He was only there to keep Abyss company and it didn't help matters that the hybrid also seemed completely disinterested in the whole affair as well. Abyssinians' two toned eyes had been half lidded and barely focused on the wedding itself… almost as if he were sleeping with his eyes open.
As Hauk had looked around, he noted that they were both getting rather peculiar stares. No one looked anything like Abyss, and so the dragonelf was led to assume that this was all of Diana's family. Most were from various tiger tribes. There was one older male, a sun tiger with faded stripes who sat a few rows up. He didn't seem as disdainful about their presence as everyone else… Hauk assumed that he must have been the Uncle Abyssinian and Sienna had mentioned earlier… The older male sighed inwardly, gently nudging Abyss in the arm
Nature of the Beast- Part 8Nature of the BeastNature of the Beast- Part 8 in Fantasy More Like This
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
It had been a week since the horrors of Angel and his creations. None of which, turned out, were truly the monsters their 'father' made them out to be... Only seven days... and yet so much had changed in the lives of those that had been caught in the bloody storm. Trust had been broken... relationships torn asunder... hearts ripped out... mistakes made... Nothing but pain and angst. When one has no choice when it comes to survival, one can brave all odds...
But when the clouds roll back to shed light on the blood soaked plains of the mind... How long can one truly hold on?
The rain had finally stopped, and though the sky was still overcast, there seemed to be a sense of peace again in the little world Hauk and Abyss shared. But just because their was a clam, didn't mean they weren't simply standing in the eye of the hurricane, waiting for the next storm front to batter their already weary spirits...
Hauk frowned as he stepped out of his c
Nature of the Beast - Part 1Nature of the Beast - Part 1 in Fantasy More Like This
Nature of the Beast
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
The air was crisp with a slightly icy bite to it as Abyss walked down the street with his companion Hauk, and his daughter Semema. The fem had conned them both into taking her fall shopping, and both males knew it was more for access to their car, credit cards, and to be bag carriers… However, the hybrid was more then happy to be somewhat 'included' in the family outing, so he never complained. The wind blew over them in a cool caress, rattling the dried autumn leaves on their skeleton looking branches. Abyss loved this time of year, but at the same time it chilled him to the bone, and it wasn't due to the change in temperature. Something in the air felt wrong. Like there was a tension clinging to the very fabric of reality… waiting for something to happen.
He glanced over as Hauk nudged his elbow. The dragonelf was watching him with his one beautiful, fiery colored eye. Abyss could get lost in that eye. However he smiled softly and perke
The Darkest HourThe Darkest HourThe Darkest Hour in Fantasy More Like This
Written By: Ashen Ravenwing
Abyssinian blinked against the cold winds that whipped across the bluff over looking a raging sea. He lifted his paw, shading his eyes from the harsh storm. The rain was bitterly freezing and the scent of salty brine stung the hybrids sensitive nostrils. He could only hear the wind howling in his ears, the waves slamming into the cove below. It had been a while since Abyss had seen the ocean so full of rage, the skies crying out in thunderous spite…
He turned at feeling a presence behind him, gasping as he was confronted by a frightfully ominous looking creature. The abashed male stepped back, closer to the bluff, shivering slightly as a chill ran down his spine. The stranger continued to approach, two large twisted horns sprouting from his rusty colored mane of hair, twin blades held tight in his fists, and a glowing pendent strung across his chest. Abyss knit his brows, confused by the sudden threat this demonic looking male presented. As
Wedding Crashers: Part 1Wedding CrashersWedding Crashers: Part 1 in Fantasy More Like This
By: Ashen Ravenwing
Hauk peered up from the couch at hearing his name called behind him. Abyssinian, his house mate, was standing behind him and looking down with an uncertain expression.
"Yeh? What's up Abyss?"
The larger hybrid fidgeted slightly with unease. Hauk had always found that rather amusing in his partner, seeing such a large strong male looking as flustered as a kid on its first day at school. The dragonelf arched his brow curiously as he set down his book to gaze at his friend. Abyss' eyes shifted across the floor a bit before he responded with meek embarrassment.
"Umm… Would you mind coming with me to pick something up?"
"Sure. What is it?"
Hauk started to stand after placing the book on the coffee table. He turned to look at Abyss with a questioning stare.
"Uh… Well y'see… It's actually…umm… a wedding dress."
A stunned silence followed the confession and Hauk's good eye stared in wide horror at the tall hybrid.
"It's not for me Hauk!! It's for
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.2How did we get here?SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.2 in Romance More Like This
When I used to know you so well
How did we get here?
When I used to know you so well
I think I know
I think I know
There is something I see in you
It might kill me,
I want it to be true.
My brain felt as if it was trying to smash it's way through my skull.
All my joints were stiff, and I could taste vomit in my mouth.
Clothes were scattered all over the room, and furniture was either upturned, smashed or both.
As crunk as I've been before, I've never woke up like this.
I moved my hands to push myself up, and was mildly surprised when they made contact with hard, smooth porcelain.
Forcing my eyes into better focus, I realised that I was, in fact, lying in an empty bathtub, my pants halfway down my legs, and my shirt being used as a makeshift rope, tying my feet together.
Groaning, I sat up, blinking hard to try and erase the double vision I was now seeing.
Setting my clothes back to normal, I dangled one
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.8Can we work it out?SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.8 in Romance More Like This
Can we be a family?
I promise I'll be better,
Mommy I'll do anything
Can we work it out?
Can we be a family?
I promise I'll be better,
Daddy please don't leave
The ivory keys sung under my fingers, their melodic cries echoing around the dimly-lit lounge and flooding through the audience's ears. It was me, alone, with nothing but the grand piano baring my soul for everyone to see. I could hear gasps of amazement, as the awed crowd admired my talent. It was nothing to be shocked about, in comparison to someone like Wes this was amateurish. His skills far surpass mine.
Minors and majors danced in a heated battle, their fluidity creating a tune both coated in melancholy and tinted with light joy. Long since had I abandoned the sheet music placed atop the keys; this was pure improvising.
I picked up to a crescendo as the song reached it's climax, the resonance filling the room to the brim with music. I wanted the audience all to hear it-what I f
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.7This is when it startsSoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.7 in Romance More Like This
From the beating of your heart
To the street lamps talk to you
Jumping off of the edge
Or asleep in your head
Everything's turning dark to you
I went to pick the up the parts
The doctors hiding the charts
He won't let me see this side of you
It's on the tip of my tongue
You know you're way too young
To have someone lie to you
"There better be a good reason for dragging us all round here, Soul " Black Star groaned, exhausted. I'd called him, Tsubaki, Liz and Patty round to mine and Maka's apartment, much to my meister's confusion.
I hadn't given her an explanation about the sonogram, just that it was important that the whole group-except Kid, of course-was there to hear it. She was still yet to realise what it was, and to be honest, I'd rather keep it that way, but I knew it was a matter of time before someone had to find out. Neither Kid nor I could suddenly appear one day holding a newborn and just come out and say it was ours, the shock
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.1It's a damn cold nightSoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.1 in Romance More Like This
Trying to figure out this life
Take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new?
I don't know who you are, but I
I'm with you.
It's an unspoken rule, really.
Everyone at a Spartoi party has something to do. Every party, at any given time, look for them, and they'll be doing it.
Maka and Jacqueline having a bitch session.
Soul and Black Star getting drunk and trying to fuck anyone within a 5-mile radius.
Tsubaki trying to prevent this.
Ox attempting to woo Kim.
Kim having sex with Harvar in the host's bedroom.
Crona panicing because he can't deal with so many people.
Liz and Patty handing out ecstasy pills. (Old connections from the streets of Brooklyn 'never die'.)
Well, I'm standing in the corner, drink in hand, watching everyone have a good time.
It's not that I don't want to have fun, 'cause I do.
It'd just be awkward, seeing as I'm Lord Death's son, and I'm only in this elite group purely for that reason.
I watch, so
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.5I just can't stop the feeling,SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.5 in Romance More Like This
Don't seem to go away.
So if I hurt your feelings,
Don't blame it all on me.
I just can't stop the feeling,
Nothing else to say,
And now they have to stay.
So if I hurt your feelings,
Don't take it the wrong way.
"I heard he's dropped out."
"Psh, that's nothing. I heard he's dead."
"Ha. Don't be stupid. He's probably got an STI from-"
I didn't need to look to know that the speaker was pointing an accusing finger at me. It's been this way for the past two months. The rumours have even spread outside of the DWMA, to a point where complete strangers, like the ones now, are gossiping about me. Kid is still yet to return to school, and he refuses to speak with anyone, in person or even over the phone. Visiting his house with our group was the last time I saw him.
According to Liz and Patty, he's still severely ill, although they don't know with what specifically. He won't allow them to call a doctor, remaining insistent that he can handle t
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.4When there's nowhere else to run,SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.4 in Romance More Like This
Is there room for one more son?
One more son...
If you can't hold on
If you can't hold on
Every single look he gives me is like an emotional blow.
The anger, the hatred, the hurt, all reflected through his honey-gold eyes.
I can't stand it. My heart aches for him, for his forgiveness. It's pure wishful thinking, but I can't help it.
I don't just want him.
I need him.
Maka's soft voice dragged me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to reality. We were in Stein's classroom, waiting for him to roll in on his usual wheelie chair and begin the lesson. I glanced towards the empty seat beside me, where Kid normally sat. I haven't seen him since this morning, after he threw up in P.E. He'd probably decided to go home.
Sighing, I folded my arms on my desk and set my head down, trying to block out the incessant chatter of my fellow classmates. There was no point in paying attention to what any of them had to
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.6Sorry I'm not home right now,SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.6 in Romance More Like This
I'm walking into spider webs.
So leave a message
And I'll call you back.
A likely story, but (Yeah) leave a message,
And I'll call you back.
You're intruding on what's mine,
And you're taking up my time.
Don't have the courage inside me
To tell you, "Please let me be".
Communication, a telephonic invasion
I'm planning my escape...
"Kid, please!" the elder pistol screamed from the bottom of the staircase, tears streaming down her face. "You're ill! You need to see a doctor!"
I glared, but refused to meet her gaze.
"No, I don't! I've been visiting Stein! He knows what's wrong, and he's helping me!"
"Obviously he's not! You've been sick for three months now, and you're not any better! People are worried about you! Kid, listen, please, I I think I think I might know what's wrong with you."
My heart stopped.
She'd worked it out?
I thought I'd been so careful
"Y-you do ?"
"I looked up your symptoms on Google&
SoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.3The one you warned me all aboutSoulxKid: Just A Mistake P.3 in Romance More Like This
The one you said I could do without
We're in an awful mess,
And I don't mean maybe, please
Papa don't preach,
I'm in trouble deep
Papa don't preach,
I've been losing sleep
But I made up my mind,
I'm keeping my baby.
It's been a month since I yelled at Soul, and I haven't spoken to him since.
Our group's been ripped apart by the situation, as no-one knows which side they should take. As Tsubaki explained to me, whilst they agreed it was wrong what Soul did, he did have a valid excuse.
I don't think I could ever forgive him, though.
He keeps giving me strange looks, where his eyes are almost glazed over and, on some occasions, there has been drool dripping from his lips.
A cold breeze bit at my legs, pulling me from my thoughts. I shivered slightly.
It was the middle of October, and I was stood waiting with the rest of the boys in class Crescent Moon for our weekly PE lesson to start. The black shorts we were forced to wear didn't serve
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 15Everlasting Snow: Chapter 15 in Romance More Like This
And yet, warm.
You’re woken up by this exceptional sensation sprawling across your forehead. Jack is standing above you, his left hand on your head as he checks your temperature.
“What’s the story, morning glory?” he says, smiling. He lifts his hand from your brow. “You’re warm.”
Feeling much better—though still not 100%—you shoot him a “no duh, I’m going to feel warm to you” look. He laughs in response. “You look a lot better. Here, I made you this. Drink up.”
In his oven mitt-ed right hand he holds a mug of (your favorite hot drink).
Your comforter draped around your shoulders, you sit up and take the piping hot beverage from him, wrapping your hands around it. He goes and sits down in the middle of the room, looking around and occasionally back to you as you sip away. The only sounds are that of the fire popping and sputtering in the fireplace.
You notice that your book is closed and sit
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 51Everlasting Snow: Chapter 51 in Romance More Like This
The steam from the hot chocolate warms your face as you stare down into its brown depths, the warmth from the piping hot beverage heating up the palms of your cupped hands as they hold it up.
The golden base of the goblet rests patiently on your knees, which you have folded up to your chest in a makeshift table as you sit on the right side of the large window’s expansive ledge, nothing but a thin sheet of glass separating you and the artic scenery beyond.
Jangle sits a bit in front of your feet, staring up at you, concerned.
He’s the one who brought you the hot chocolate, waddling around a corner a few moments after Tooth had left you alone to the devices of the otherwise vacant hallway, the jingle bell on the top of his head softly chiming with each step.
You only took the goblet out of politeness. You really have no appetite right now.
Still, you’re thankful for the company. And the hot chocolate has helped you a little, its steam bearing a calming effect on you, pr
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 49Everlasting Snow: Chapter 49 in Romance More Like This
The last beams of daylight illuminate the world in a final flash of orange before reluctantly disappearing, receding and descending behind the horizon along with the tired sun.
But even though the star is no longer visible to you, traces of light remain, turning the sky at the earth’s edge a vibrant red with arms that reach out into the night’s royal purple, giving the world a last work of daytime beauty so the sun is fondly remembered through the night. Smaller stars begin to show their white faces, taunting the crimson light as it attempts to touch them. Just as its fingers begin to brush the small white light of the closest star, though, it too is pulled down with the sun, and night tucks it away until morning.
The stars shine brighter as the sky turns darker, rejoicing at their triumph.
And then, the most anticipated moment of the night. The stars quiet down out of respect, turning their attention to the main event.
Slowly, shyly, the moon peeks up, showing the world a
Amongst the Moon and Frost: Chapter 1Amongst the Moon and Frost: Chapter 1 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Cake scattered the floor.
It was a beautiful red color. Red velvet. Splattered all across the tile that was yellowed with time. There was one big chunk, surrounded by others that slowly grew into smaller and smaller crumbs the further they were from this central fragment. A few of the slightly larger pieces had been grinded into the kitchen floor, smushed into it, trampled by angry feet. They looked like random dark crimson blotches among the innumerable crumbs. The way the broken cake looked, the whole scene strongly resembled a horrible, grotesque, quite unique murder scene.
Like the floor was tainted with blood.
It would have been quite the wonderful, delicious cake, too. It was moist, but not too much so. Fluffy. Just the right balance of ingredients. Holding together on your fork until the moment you ate it. Melt-in-your-mouth. A delightful quality only found in the culinary creations of true masters of pastry. She had quite the plans for this cake. It was going to be shaped like
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 39Everlasting Snow: Chapter 39 in Romance More Like This
You’re experiencing some serious déjà vu.
Jack Frost is once again in your living room, lying on your couch, completely unconscious.
Except this time, you know who he is and for a fact that he’s extremely ill. Though with exactly what, you’re not sure.
And there’s no curiosity here. Just fear and panic for the one you love.
You lift off the damp wash towel that you have resting on his forehead. It needs to be changed.
You lay your free hand on his head, checking his temperature.
He’s still burning up, the same temperature from the last time you had checked it. He’s far too warm even for a regular human, let alone for the spirit of winter.
His cheeks are flushed a deep red to match the fever. His lips are parted, each of his breaths shuddering and strained. They’re so infrequent sometimes that you will anxiously rest your ear on his chest, listening for his faint heartbeat as your own races.
You refresh the cold towel and place it back on
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 52Everlasting Snow: Chapter 52 in Romance More Like This
The sleigh skids to a stop on the lake’s surface, the skis leaving long white marks on the ice.
Above you, the tired stars begin to fade as the first light of day breaks over the horizon, giving themselves over to sleep until the night returns to reign once again.
North scoops the limp Jack back up into his arms, and the three of you wordlessly disembark from the sleigh.
You follow North off the lake, trying hard not to fall on the slippery surface. You breathe a small sigh of relief as you step onto the snowy bank, then continue after North, forced to jog a little to keep up with his long strides.
He stops in front of a tall tree with a thick, sturdy trunk, its leaves and branches dusted with white snow. It’s quite a few yards from the lake’s edge, but its view goes uninterrupted by other foliage. He crouches down and sets Jack in front of it, sitting him down so his back is propped up against the trunk.
He really does look like he just nodded off, his head bowed, ar
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 64Everlasting Snow: Chapter 64 in Romance More Like This
Despite the battle that you know must be going on for Jamie—for the children of the world, for hope, joy, and light—you somehow manage to fall into a restless sleep.
Maybe it had something to do with that moonbeam that wiggled its way through the canopy of dark clouds and flooded directly into your bedroom.
The moment sleep takes you, you’re transported into the realm of dreams.
You’re standing in an entirely white space. So pure, so devoid of anything corrupt. It goes on endlessly, stretching onward for all eternity.
Not knowing what else to do, you walk forward, your footsteps echoing even though you’re barefoot.
Just when you begin to think that you’re absolutely alone, you feel a presence behind you.
You cautiously turn around, bracing yourself for anything.
Well, just about anything.
Because what you’re now facing completely throws you off.
Or rather, who.
He stands no taller than four feet high. He’s dressed like a gentleman,
Everlasting Snow: Chapter 38Everlasting Snow: Chapter 38 in Romance More Like This
You finally exhale, the breath that had been trapped within you escaping past your lips to a long-awaited freedom.
At first, you’re not sure on what to say.
After months of knowing you, Jack just told you he loves you.
Jack Frost. A spirit. Immortal. The stuff of legends. In love. With you.
Your head is swimming.
But then something arises within you. A small, soft warmth. Like a single candle’s flame flickering brightly in a dark room filled with uncertainty.
Slowly, it grows, filling you and steadying your beating heart and racing mind. All other thoughts, all other feelings, are forgotten.
Just one remains.
You’ve never been surer of something in your life.
You smile warmly at Jack, who is staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he waits for you to say something, body stuck in the moment just after his confession.
“I love you too.”
He relaxes, unfurling the anxious fist that his staff-less hand had been in. A lo
The Suffering I DisavowThe Suffering I Disavow in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I left my soul back home,
all the way back and on its own...
I left my soul back home,
Leaving my heart as cold as stone.
Here stands my being,
damn near without emotion,
In spite of what I've been seeing,
Am without a decent devotion...
Tears fall from the cracks in that accursed sky,
A rain fallen from ducts on high.
I take the pain unnaturally, by and by.
I recall the moments that had my tongue in a tie,
and still does my beating heart seem to live a lie,
and then I see nothing but stars in that accursed sky.
I can't help but wonder,
if I am acknowledged when I pray,
When I have, this heart beats like thunder,
Yet still does my faith keep my questions at bay.
I can feel the memories burning through,
searing out, the pitiful thoughts to ensue,
the ravaging fear, and sudden fits I never knew.
But my mind is but a prison that reminders bring me to.
Languid I am,
the man of few words here and now...
Still in love, and to my shepard a lamb...
yet still a shell of myself, as th
1. The Black Rose1. The Black Rose in Free Verse More Like This
Out extended the unwelcome arm,
for my soul to take...
My shadow, with me, trembled,
knowing no way away,
from this inevitable ending of my own.
The pillars of my legs crumbled,
and down I fell...
The arm hesitated,
and to the side tilted the head,
from which came its orders.
Of golden bone was it made,
and its base disappeared
into the caverns its sleeve....
Shying from my sight.
The Robe was black
with a fine woven silk.
I beheld none but black,
and only by will
was any other sight
begotten to my terrified eyes.
Eyes of sapphire gazed down on me,
as my back fell to the ground in terror...
Paralyzed was I in the presence of Death,
But it made no haste against me.
"I am Time, just as history knows me."
He spoke as despondence dove to my ears.
To me did Death speak, as it always had,
but with gentle motion did it cry out...
Yelling to grasp my thought, as it knelt before me.
the leaves beneath it made no cries of pain...
as they were already dead, and decaying.
Again the sapphir
Until Eternity's End.Until Eternity's End. in Free Verse More Like This
You before me, angelic, this vision.
Why do dark tears fall
from those brown eyes, so beautiful?
Why does your face shy from my eyes,
and shroud itself with the hair,
through which I run my fingers?
For what reason, to what cause,
do your limbs tremble in my absence,
and discover tensity in my presence?
Good God, use your lips,
before mine reach them,
as your silence gives consent.
Speak the mind which fascinates my ears,
Spill out the heart that grips tight to my soul.
Bare the soul that mine is forever meant for.
I wish to love you more than you could comprehend,
and purge every trace of affliction...
Bare the soul that mine is forever meant for.
The Forward MovementThe Forward Movement in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Tragedy, abrupt to my very soul,
that left me far from whole.
The withered memory born unto my dreams again,
refreshed and once more binding me by chain.
The reopening scars I once upon a time, thought healed,
gape wide to open for the flood gates, red and revealed.
My witnessing eyes bleed out old tears from a rusted well,
Attempting again to put back out the fires of this age old Hell.
The rising waters find my feet and climb,
the two floods meet, where their cause is rhymed.
My heart from which the blood and tears flow,
now at where the pain does ever grow.
Close these outpouring wounds, build back up the walls...
Make for my feet, the forward movement from where my future calls.
Once again I will shed my skin,
leaving behind the marks of where I've been.
TuesdayTuesday in Free Verse More Like This
A somber raise of the glasses,
the unbroken, yet half empty...
A somber cheers, in memoriam.
The reminder of great loss,
Well known to the uninvolved,
As a mark to remain upon history.
Vindictively vicious was
the scar ever unhealed,
Left upon a body already
mangled and slowly recovering.
How strange, this cycle of affliction.
How off the resemblance of occurrences
O'Lord, my infinite prayers...
to this horrid event in past.
To those taken to their appointed place
here after in the Afterlife.
Those fallen souls may they forever rest...
Right Away I Write AwayRight Away I Write Away in Free Verse More Like This
To my one and only, the beloved whom my heart favors...
For my all & every
The true love my soul has at last found.
I continue onward, producing letters
To grow into words,Words that still yet
lack ability to describe this, our love.
Though my mind works with vigor,
through day until night,
Evermore to the dying beat of my heart.
Remolded have I been,
and forever grasped...
By a bond beyond unbreakable.
The Heart that drums away the beat in hopes
of reaching the ears of some muse...
In hopes of fabricating my rapture...
Right away I write away,
direct from my inner most being,
Out poured to pages for the eyes of my angel.
The White MorgueThe White Morgue in Free Verse More Like This
Watching, my eyes saw the swaying limbs
thin and starved by winter winds...
Dancing, like moving cracks on the window,
Through which I did stare.
Imagine, the image so morbid above as I gazed.
unnerving to the anchoring blood,
drying up within the veins of my limbs,
much like the branches that sliced the air...
The roots dug deep into my back,
and the anchored blood began to freeze...
My vessels, destroyed by glaciers,
of icy blood, that once flowed.
The travesty, of the bullet plunged into my heart,
whose beat slows, and withers and fades.
Too and so soon, the loss of my life...
Now I play the game of patience...
The Devout, The Divine, The DeceasedThe Devout, The Divine, The Deceased in Free Verse More Like This
Three are they,
Of Heavenly origin.
Governed by the Highest Throne,
and led by the Horsemen.
Devout are the Grim Trinity.
As death has never ceased
So true to the cause are they...
By cursed and divine blades.
The Patrons of the Deceased and Dying...
and of those related to the involved.
Divine by right is the Angel...
Unholy by cause is the Demon...
Leader by title is the Nephilim.
By them are taken souls guided,
Through them are souls
released or enslaved.
Ink and SmokeInk and Smoke in Free Verse More Like This
She loved the scent
of ink and smoke -
and the way strangers
caressed her name
like the verdant rushes
rolling off the river bank,
or a low slung
across the floor.
Mornings found her
where the light
and the cat's tale
lingered like a secret,
waking her from dreams
brighter than early frost.
But it was night
that bought and sold her,
made her heart a trinket,
dressing her in silk
as new as nuptials -
that flagrant shade of flush
and the rough and tumble
of her hips
serenading the world
Girl as TragedyGirl as Tragedy in Free Verse More Like This
She decided to be a tragedy
because it was more beautiful
Happiness was a plain thing -
ordinary and drab as corn or
falling asleep in his chair..
But tragedy was elegant - the curves
of her slender body sheathed in trauma
and kid gloves that went up to the elbows.
It was mysterious - black hats with veils
and notes from strange men pressed into her palm
Tragedy looked good on resumes and fit perfectly
on the small white cards placed on her dining table.
Her sisters could slip them into their purses
to remind them later of how she breathed
dignity and grace into the family name.
She could wear it with her grandmother's jet beads
to the ballet, their stark beauty
a reminder of what was lost.
And when her final lover came to call at matins
she could slip it under her lips
and press it as a warm memory -
wet and gliding over his tongue
as she searched for words
among the sheets.
Snow QueenSnow Queen in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Shall I find thee all in ice ensnared,
the tree boughs stripped, the blossoms bared,
trapped in a wet and wintry grave -
the blight of snow and hoarfrost shared?
They brought you here, their souls enslaved.
The altar where your minions prayed -
a brilliant diadem of ice,
the offering that your cold heart craved.
They linger here whilst you entice
their frozen limbs as sacrifice.
Their wizened hands by you declared
the chosen few who paid your price
PlaygroundPlayground in Free Verse More Like This
All that autumn her ghost haunted the playground;
no wisping phantom, but strident bits and pieces
clamoring for attention - a pair of black patent
leather shoes waiting expectantly by the teeter-totter.
And Sister Teresa had to pry red woolen mittens
off the jungle gym every morning.
Jimmy Boyle kept seeing her sweater at the swings,
its green wooly arms daring him to go higher
and trying to tag him "it".
And her best friend, Jenny Black
could see the flash of her pigtails
throwing copper across the kickball field
where recess waited to swallow them.
The toys vanished from the sandbox every evening
leaving nothing but a soft trail of disappointment
in their wake -
their accusations of neglect
and longing crouched under the
maple trees, swarming with the bees.
But winter proved a discordant grave -
the protest of frozen ground
an errant melody in the schoolyard
and her shoes kept shrinking
and stumbled down the slide,
leaving a thick crust of frost
like somber tracks that said good-bye
my brother's room holds both heaven and hellHe envelops himselfmy brother's room holds both heaven and hell in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
in covers and darkness
lest he see the nightmares
lest he see the nightmares
He tells me
in pained whisper
of the hate
discarded angels sing
from his walls
how god damns
the souls of those
so irreparably broken as him.
I try fashion my love
into a weapon that could
smite even those which god
could only nail to his walls
but my weapon is wasted
For these enemies are ones
I'll never see.
He tells me
in weakened screams
of the love
whisper from darkened corners
with false faces and intentions
how only they can protect him
how he must die
so he can be free of this burden
And though I use my love to scream
deafening hope to cloud such
I know he
I Apologize For My ArtI apologize for my poetryI Apologize For My Art in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
For its utter lack of sincerity
For taking and stating views
That no one even asked of me
That ,though my words try their hardest
That they'll never understand
The pain they try to express...
The feelings they make bland
Through my attempts to describe
The tears that I'll never cry,
The small fears placed
Upon the wings of flies
In the hope they can be swatted away.
I apologize for my poetry
For its utter inability
To protect you from its own fallacies.
I apologize for my art
For its utter lack of heart
It asks for to believe in it
Begs for you to love its message
And offers to comfort you
And advise you on damage
It could never truly know,
And for that I apologize.
But I won't apologize for trying...
I won't apologize for trying to understand
For trying to transcribe their ink dripped hearts.
I won't apologize for trying
To use my words to try
And empathize with that young girl
With bottle of pills
Trying to think a reason not t
When did we grow wise?In between the hopscotchWhen did we grow wise? in Open More Like This
The games of tag and pat-a-cake
We all grew up, carefully listened
And learned from our mistakes
Oh when did we get so wise, my friend?
In between the skipping and the lunchboxes
We learned Maths and English and then
Learned how to pay bills and taxes.
Oh when did we grow up, my friend?
When yesterday I was climbing trees,
And wondering why the sky was blue.
A breath ago I was blissful, naive
No knowledge of the world I didnt need
I didnt know that all life took
Was the will to just succeed
When was the moment, my friend?
That turning point when we grew up.
We find ourselves adults thrust
Into a world where theres little reason.
When did we grow to be so wise?
Between the picnics and the balmy summers
It snuck upon us in the merest blink
It took a second,
And the seconds are still passing us by.
Four amI understand them. Empty whiskey bottles. Empty bottles of port that will be neglected for a few days. The bin men dont come until Tuesday anyway. A warm haze that descends and clenches in a pincer-like grip until words ooze out of you. Blood like dark blue ink trailing across a page. You get. Get Angry! Because you cant write quick enough, and this is the best thing. The best thing! An important thing.Four am in General Non-Fiction More Like This
And it defines you.
I understand the empty bottles of wine ad cider. That four in the morning feeling. Its not sleep, but youre close, and in that moment youre at your most truthful. But still you notice the grammar. Snort at your own discomfort and go back to amend. Go! Then run off as though from the school bullies. But its 4am and youre absolutely fine in the quiet of your own room. There could be snoring but you dont notice, as warm as you are. Whiskey. Brandy. Vodka. Special thoughts. Truthful thoughts, unlike so many others.
She turned her face to meMen watch entranced as the wheel is spun around,She turned her face to me in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
See leaves age, wither, die, become reborn,
Breath is held and none dare to utter a sound,
And in a moment, men's souls are saved or torn.
And oh, how she is cursed by all she touches
Then praised and glorified in the next half smile,
None try to escape, to run from her clutches
For she is gracious, despite her sometime trials.
No other smile brings as much joy to men's hearts,
No other soft gesture brings them to their knees,
To her, all men fools, happy to play their part,
In exchange for a soothing of just one plea.
Yet I rue the day she turned her face to me
Since now my heart, can no longer my heart be.
ContextualisingHere's one for the historyContextualising in Other More Like This
Just don't mention politics
And certainly don't breathe a word of
Or anything else of sizeable
Which may or may not allow
Poetry to be misinterpreted by
Of context in the future.
Move along now, surely there's nothing to
AddictionLove is the sweetest addiction,Addiction in Free Verse More Like This
At the end you get what you deserve,
A lies still a lie by omission,
Its a bullet you dont want to swerve.
And the smell and the taste that lie hot on my senses,
Well theres no other drug that comes close
And Ill break down my walls and smash all my pretences
But its still just your love that I crave the most
Its the most bitter nectar, its the cleanest of smoke
And it eats you alive piece by piece
And youre so consumed by the words that they spoke
That youre screaming inside for release
And I smile and I wait to come down from the high
'till I'm left with a feeling of guilt,
The words I should say just compose of 'goodbye',
But I doubt that I ever will.
I smileI see itI smile in Free Verse More Like This
every detail of it beautiful
every smooth line drawing
my eyes to the point
of hazy memory
to sharpen as I watch.
I hear it
against the throbbing silence
the gentle waves
and the wind's gasp
over the ripples.
I smell it
the crisp clearness
and the faint perfume
of the body
daring to be close to me.
I taste it
running my tongue slowly
over slightly salty lips
and I bite them
I feel it
as true as I were there
cold earth beneath
and a clear sky above.
murmuring for myself
to leave me there
in that place
A box of meI have a box of meA box of me in Free Verse More Like This
that is, myself
a coffin of memories with a lid
so the dust doesn't catch.
It's full of keepsakes
I mean, things I wished to keep
from the multitude
of bits and bobs I find myself with.
Cards, stones, photographs
some sentimental things -
a badge from him, a letter from them
nothing at all from you.
But it's worth things to forget
I mean, things I can't remember alone
and so you
are not allowed to enter
not permitted to be just a memory.
I have a box of me
a sturdy cardboard coffin
spanning eighteen years of youth
and another already started.
Relegated trinkets and tokens
that is, things to say 'Oh yes, I remember this' to
and it makes me smile
when I realise
that I have nothing of you to add.
Coyote Said NothingThe fire crackled and he twisted towards me.Coyote Said Nothing in General Fiction More Like This
I bent away from his leather-creased skin; from the heady waft of Jack Daniels on his hot breath; from his pale, wrinkled, mutely working lips; away from his blurred, round black eyes.
He hiccupped, and for a moment his sight faded and he stared beyond me, past my hunched form and silvered hair, staring into the pressing darkness beyond the unsteady sphere of light cast by the licking flames.
"Coyote," he gazed through me, "yes, Coyote was the trickster. He rode the sun around the earth and stole fire from the Old Man. But Coyote was stupid sometimes, too, you know?"
Unsurprisingly, I said nothing. He frequently rambled, when we were out together in the dark, crouching unhappily near the meager warmth of the fire in the nighttime, when he'd had too much to drink. I had heard all the legends many times over, even relived them through his staggered words and the jerking movements of his hands.
"One day, long ago - that's how they all begin, yo
Crayola Colour 117: WisteriaShe didn't want to know where he came from. She didn't want to know his past, his present, or his future.Crayola Colour 117: Wisteria in General Fiction More Like This
She didn't care about how much he made for a living, or where he lived, or how big his house was. She didn't care what kind of clothes he wore; didn't care if his hands were calloused and tanned with labour, or soft and smooth from a life led in leisure; if his hair was streaked with grey, or his cheeks rough with stubble.
She wanted to know if he, like her, delighted in the dawn, captivated by the glowing streaks of colour upon the great blue canvas of the sky. If he could, like her, find beauty within the glistening streak of the passage of a snail; within the delicate soft skin between her fingers; within the waxy hues of crayons -- atomic tangerine, razzmatazz, magic mint.
She wanted to know if he would follow her into the golden speckled forests, ducking under soft green limbs and around coarse trunks -- if he would follow her into the sterile, apathetic cities, and los
Little Brown BirdsLittle Brown Birds in General Fiction More Like This
When she woke up in the mornings, she would keep her eyes tightly closed, and hope. She hoped for simple things: she hoped the sun would illuminate her blinds from behind with a soft pink glow; she hoped she still had peanut butter left in the jar she'd left on the counter; she hoped the cat had not thrown up on the carpet again during the night. She'd learned a long time ago to hope for things that may come true. That way, on mornings when the cat had thrown up and she rolled out of her warm comfortable bed and stepped in the warm slimy pile she could still hope she still had peanut butter, and when she would find the open jar half-full on the counter she could be happy.
Sometimes the sun would sneak through the gaps in the curtains, and play on her closed eyes and wake her just a few moments before the round-faced clock woke her. She would smile a contented smile, because those mornings were the mornings when she found peanut butter, when the cat was sleeping peacefully, stretched be
Breaking Your HeartShe never meant to break your heart.Breaking Your Heart in General Fiction More Like This
She was simply in love with other, simpler, things; the sunshine when it struck the delightfully yellow dandelions in the grass, the sensation of spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning until she fell breathlessly to the ground, the flickering bulb in the refrigerator that she'd never changed because she liked the way it sputtered when she opened the door.
You were too complex. She couldn't understand why sometimes you seemed to adore her, and sometimes ignore her. You refused to see the perfection in a tiny green bird, the brilliant red of a stop sign, and the golden sparkles off the pond as the sun set, and yet claimed to see beauty in her. You told her too often how pretty she was, overlooking her jagged fingernails and how she chewed them when she was troubled, or listless, or focused. Overlooking the way she squealed unpleasantly when she laughed; the way her nose upturned sharply at the end.
You ignored her when she was at her unhappie
Colleen"I'll tell it as I best know how," the sailor said, leaning in close, his whiskered face rough and creased from wind and water, swept and darkly tanned and cratered with age, "for that's the way it was told to me. She must've been a thief or a whore, and surely thrown overboard, where, they say, she came this way from the deep blue sea."Colleen in General Fiction More Like This
And that was how he began. His deep, great voice filled the room, the words running together to paint an endless, vivid image - his very words crafting the immense eternal ocean, booming hard against the jagged, bare rocks of the grey coast.
There was the broken form of a barefooted body, draped across the sand, placed so carefully there by the caressing waves. White rags wrapped about the form, remnants of a torn gown - and the figure still, motionless.
She was dead.
And she awoke, harshly coughing salted water from her lungs, feeling the chill of the cold and clutching her hands at the fine, white sands. The pounding of the surf filled the air
Her Charmed SmileEver so silently, so as to not wake the sleeping doll, he bent leaned over the bedside. He softly caressed the blond curl of hair -- brushed it across her forehead with fingers that were calloused from hard labour.Her Charmed Smile in General Fiction More Like This
It seemed a charade to touch this angel, this beauty, with his roughened, tanned hands, a crude Neanderthal holding a luminous jewel and staring with childlike idiocy at its sparkling beauty, open-mouthed and dumbly bewildered by his found treasure.
His own skin prickled as he felt the soft smoothness of her cheek against his palm, the brush of silken hair, and he was silent, wary not to wake this golden prize and have her flee from him (a delicate doe from the trampling feet of a passing intruder).
She stirred at the touch, and her perfect lips parted in a noiseless sigh of contentment, her long, dark lashes fluttering briefly before closing once more in chaste slumber, and her head turned slightly upon her down-stuffed pillow to allow a cascade of auric spun hair to flow a
ReturnReturn in General Fiction More Like This
When she stretched across the seat, her socked feet resting against the glass, and laid her head in his lap, she could stare out the windshield at the darkness of night sky outside the warm cabin of the truck.
Not that the darkness was particularly interesting, but after the sun set -- vanishing long ago somewhere far ahead of them, disappearing under the stretching horizon and beyond the snaking highway -- there was not much else to look at. A few speckles of light struggled to be seen against the velvety black sky, and shivered against the cold, flickering in and out of sight. She discovered that if she squinted in just the right way, the few visible stars grew long arms and spun around in a soundless dance as she tilted her head left and right.
So occupied, she was oblivious to the shadows without, shifting patches of black within black that brushed by, whispering against the glass and begging to be let in; let into their perfect cozy world, their little refuge.
It was a haven litte