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Winter Child& though my skin is steel,
I am but a girl without a wolf,
without a home,
without a name.
& though autumn winds still blow,
I only feel the cold,
for winter has settled
into the hollow
between my shoulder blades.
AtlanticLast night, I dreamed of the sea,
And of the long road there.
The sun cast diamonds on the rising tide
As I sought gentle waves to swallow me.
Would that I could bare my bones to emerald depths
In search of pacific clarity,
Where reality is suspended with gravity
And I can float as through a dream.
But when Ursula can’t give me fins and God can’t give me wings,
I remain but a girl, weary of heart and far from home,
Walking the dry line between earth and sky
With only fantasy-tides to help me breathe.
22 years spent soaking seawater into my skin—
Now my pores cry out and choke on dust and heat.
But in dreams, I still follow the scent of salt on the air
To slip into the Atlantic’s cold, loving embrace.
The stars sang to me, sang such sweet songs that father’s grip nor mother’s pleas could keep my astronomical spirit rooted in human life; I let them go and my feet found a path from the ground to the galaxy, and I thought I could be happy forever in my wanderlust.
Beauty, wonder, and awe I expected. It was the cold that caught me off guard. The nothing stretching between planets and stars, between supernovae and nebulae, chafed icily at my skin, and the weight of such fearful emptiness etched weakness into my shoulder blades. The longer I meandered, the more stardust felt gritty, the more starlight burned. When a thread of dark-matter memories caught at my ankle, I rejoiced, tracing the strand with my toe-tips all the way back home.
But it was a new home I was destined for; I lost my humanity somewhere between the little fisher and the seven dancing girls, and greater powers than I decreed that I must re-evolve and find it anew. I was reborn on the earth, first as a fluid s
A Lady and Her Knight Chapter 14: NeilA week into their journey through the forest, the king abruptly called a halt to the march at midday. Neil, who was with Randolf at the head of a column of cavalry riders, looked at his friend inquisitively. Randolf, catching the look, shrugged and said, “I’ve no idea.” He turned and gave the signal to stop to those riding behind them, then told one of his colonels that he was going to see the king. Neil went with him, for he was curious; since he’d proved himself against the likes of ogres and goblins on multiple scouting expeditions now, the king had put him in charge of the scouts and fully admitted him into the inner circle of commanders, so he knew he was welcome now.
The king’s servants set up his pavilion with remarkable speed—it was almost completely standing when Neil and Randolf arrived. They dismounted—Neil had to do so carefully, since his foot was still injured—left their horses with the servants, and went inside in search of
The downside of a gentleman's codeYou, my chivalrous dream,
my shattered mirror,
my broken locket—
you were self-righteous heroism
and a ticking
The day she died,
burned tears from my eyes;
and I realized that I was
well and truly
Days Like TheseOn days like these I’m naught but dust in the wind, riding turbulent eddies around building corners and skating along laminar fields, seeking the taste of salt on the air. This transient existence is chafing away my skin, but I know that my search for a seaside to settle on won’t end for years yet.
On days like these, I wonder if it would be wise to cut my wings and grow roots instead, but this carmine clay-soil can’t give me what I need to survive. I am grounded for now, but I know I must never forget how to fly.
Dreamscape BoyYou are my dreamscape boy; I fall asleep to come alive with you in a whirl of sensory pigments and half-understood plotlines. In dreams, we draw hopscotch lines between stars and leave our clothes on the banks of molten-rock rivers. We waltz across battlefields and hold hands as a tornado passes over us, always seeking the secret light that guides us through the gloom of my subconscious. I always wake before we find it.
And when I wake, all I have are your mannequin hands for mine to sweat against. I yearn for the you pulsing with vivid blood, the you with enough warmth to keep my heart pumping as we drift from the Milky Way to Andromeda, but all I get are Arctic-ocean eyes and a synthetic smile.
I thought I wanted to sleep forever, but now you make me wish to dream in black and white.
DrownYou were ballistae and battering rams and trebuchets, and I was the castle under siege, so when my kingdom come shattered I had no one to blame but you. Katabatic, I flowed down from my sky-perch, and I would have frozen you until you burned as one slick with boiling oil if I could.
You and the future eluded me, though; now, I simply drift on zephyr-currents, heedless of past, present, and solid ground alike, searching for a place to drown.
Pisces RisingThe crown of Olympus quaked
beneath the weight of a behemoth,
a beast of a god wreathed in
come a caelo usque ad centrum
to lay judgment at its feet.
As Typhon’s monstrous cacophony
echoed off stone and clouds, mother
and son fled ‘til water barricaded their way.
Then, aquatic mercies surfaced,
clad in scales like mailed knights
to aid mother and son in their flight.
Bound together by silk-strong threads,
they soared across the sea to African safety,
where mother and son and cowardly gods
listened to the roar of thunderous battle.
The ram fought the titan, and, in fine,
claimed violent volcanic victory.
Aphrodite, in reward, raised Pisces
de profundis ad astra,
to be admired eternally
and consigned to
memories of gods and men.
Death followed my father home.Death bought a new pair of shoes from my father. It left and hit a woman right in front of my father’s store. It dragged her thirty feet across the parking lot before speeding off, leaving her to bleed in front of Target. It brought my father out of his shoe store to direct traffic around the body, blood trickling against his shoes. It tapped the shoulder of an employee with CPR training. It got blood all over his clothes and sent him home early for the day when there was nothing he could do.
Death followed my father home. It called my father’s cell phone with an invitation he couldn’t turn down. It put a new playlist in my father’s Pandora shuffle that brought him to tears. It picked out the finest formal wear my father owned and laid it on the bed. It cancelled the plans my father had with his grandson.
Death gave my nephew an empty balloon. My father took it away before he could choke. It wheezed a skeletal laugh and patted the boy on the head.
a youth without flowerswake up, dress in your sunday best - that white church dress with the ribbon collar wound tight like a noose around your neck. don't wince when mamma pulls your hair back into twin tails, even though your scalp feels like it'll split open.
get in the back seat. wonder why your uncle is driving the family car down wheezy roads, but only wonder silently. from the back seat you see his fat old stomach wobble as the ford jostles down a gravel road toward church. apologize to mamma when your head smacks into the window - it's your fault, anyway.
smile like your daddy is the preacher, but don't seem too happy. mamma told you that today is a sad day. this thought rattles around in your tiny head; it doesn't make sense. how can the sky be as blue as a bird's belly on a sad day? there aren't many clouds in the sky.
don't fuss when mamma pulls you away from the kids playing ball underneath the big oak tree. she's only doing that to help you - you wouldn't want those pretty black shoes to get scu
Blood Regent: FaithfulThe beads were cold on his fingertips. The old brick of the church smelled of mold; corroded by the decades of winds breezing up from the loch.
“O my God, I am heartfully sorry for having offended thee,” he rolled the bead along the edge of his finger. The words spilled from his lips, memorized but still genuine. He lifted the stick until the candle finally breathed flame.
“- and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishment, but most of all because I have offended Thee my God…”
“Garrett,” a voice called from behind him.
“- Who is all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve…”
“Garrett, haven’t you asked enough?” Garrett felt a hand brush his shoulder. His scar rubbed against the cloth and the feeling was unpleasant.
“That is the point of repentance, Duncan. It will never be enough. Leave me to my prayers, please.”
Garrett watched Duncan’s shadow dance across the walls. He p
Generations - Through the Years1956
“So tell me, do you think I can get away with this on the beach at Nice?”
Helen Forbes looked over at her daughter and said “I don’t know – you don’t think it shows a little too much?”
Katherine smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Nah – I don’t think so,” she said with a smile. The sleeveless white blouse was open at the neck, the lapel folded back, and her red shorts had little pockets at the front. Her outfit was completed with a pair of white heeled sandals.
“I still think it’s a little showy,” Helen said as she went back to packing her daughter’s case. Her mother was wearing a blue blouse, the neck open and the lapels pressed back, and a knee length red cotton skirt that buttoned up the front, with white open toed shoes.
“Come on Mum – what did you wear when you were my age?”
“Short dresses, long socks and pigtails,”
SethEn la oscuridad del origen del mundo definí mi destino
La llave de la verdad yace enterrada en lo profundo de mi alma
Mi sangre inerte clama por el conocimiento perdido.
Wax'n'Wane - PMDu Written AppEXPLORERS GUILD: Team Wax’n’Wane
Date Joined: September 28th 2013
Current Funds: 6 St
Species: Meowth *shiny
Characteristic: Often lost in thought
Gender: Male Age: 21
Strength: 2 Agility: 4
Intelligence: 3 Charisma: 1+1
Total Points Left: 0/10
Type Bonus: Normal -> Charisma
- Default Gloves
---- A pair of brown gloves Prince got once joining the Explorers guild.
- Apricorn Ocarina
---- An ocarina earned during Task #1. Princ
HauntedAs the apartment door shut behind Melliene she turned, looking back at it. It was difficult for her to leave that apartment a second time in such a rush but it had to be done. She knew herself too well to know that if she stayed any longer that things wouldn't have gotten accomplished. A sigh left her lips as she breathed into the white scarf that was drawn over her face, and neck, concealing her identity, as she tore herself from Nallaen's door.
Descending the stairs of the apartment building she passed one fellow, nodding her head in greeting. Dressed as this, hidden, and garbed in white silken robes of the Light she was no longer Melliene. She was Greer Rosach, a woman of the Cathedral. A kind woman. A good woman. Everything Melliene was not. Sometimes she wished for Greer to become a reality for her, to put an end to her hazardous ways. It didn't matter how much she hid behind the mask though. She would always be Melliene. A selfish woman. A woman who knew no bounds. A woman who wo
urban eagle Charlotte climbed higher up the building along the fire escape, the crisp cold wind blowing through and making her smile as she stood on the chimney. Living in the tallest aparment building always has its quirks, and when she'd decided to move out for college, she'd rented a room just a mile away from the university, just far enough so she can walk, bike, or do whatever she wants to while on the way to class, and close enough that she wouldn't be late in any way.
Now, it was time for dinner. Charlotte had made sure that the hot bowl of chicken soup and the rest of her dinner was securely wrapped in her bag, along with her thermos of warm tea, and her small phone speaker. Charlotte pulled all of those out, sitting down on the old foldable metal chair she had brought with her one evening. She set the speaker beside her and turned it on, putting her phone in the slot before playing a playlist on it. The music started to float in the air, and the teen
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
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