i never could have expected that because i joined a silly website to draw pictures on that i'd start making friends. i never could have expected that they would encourage my artistic journeys, even joining me on some.
i never could(more) have expected that i would end up on an even larger art community, meeting a variety of people i could have never met any other way. i never thought i could have best friends across the country, across the world.
i never could have expected the impact it would have on me. thank you. :) (less)
Well, this is it, I thought to myself, legs hanging over the edge of the fire escape, I'm eighteen tomorrow. I'm eighteen and I have to fully devote my life to something I'm not even sure I'm ready to commit to. I'm eighteen and I'm actually going to have(more) to wear dad's cape, the one I've been hiding in the back of my closet for so long.
I'm eighteen and I'm going to have to protect the city.
I come from a long line of heroes. We're born into our position - Sons and daughters of a generation built to save. We don't even have a choice - As soon as we're able to speak and understand, they tell us exactly what it is we're going to do, how we're going to live.
I've feared this year my whole life. Though I'm an adult, and should have rights to my own body and mind, I don't. My kind is different. We're trapped here our whole lives. (less)
He sat alone then, legs crossed, thoughts tossed over his shoulder with the rest of his belongings. It was starting to lose meaning, this big journey he'd dedicated his everything to. He'd forgotten where he came from, where he was now; for gods sake, even where he was going(more) was getting hazy. He was missing the reason, now - The reason he was traveling at all.
Setting down his dusty sack, he rummaged around inside it, looking for something, anything to reassure himself that he was going the right way. Piles of old bones weren't helping him at this point - The skeletons in his closet were much too real, a collection of bits and pieces of creatures who'd passed before him providing him some twisted sort of company.
A sigh escaped his lips as he undid the knots, tied perfectly to keep his collection from slipping out. He decided that it was pointless to hang onto them, now. While they were something to think about, they were becoming an unnecessary burden for his body and his mind. With a clatter, a few dozen bones fell to the desert floor.
He tied the raggedy scarf around his neck and pulled it up over his head, protecting his face from the sun beating down. Being freed from his old chains made things seem easier - Lighter, even. Maybe he did have a reason for walking away, a reason for continuing his journey towards an unknown point in the distance.
He brushed off his shoes and stood up, a renewed sense of youth flowing through him now. The sunrise wasn't as far away as he seemed to think. (less)
the slipping feeling;
the flailing, the reeling
the tumbling, the falling
the shouting, the calling
and down you go!
(more) little did you know
the cause for your blunder
was caused by none other
than the left-behind-lingerie
of a yellow piece of fruit. (less)
His skin crawled. He knew he was back again; the one he'd been trying to avoid. It was as if he could hear his rotting fingers curling around the window sill behind him, a few flights too high for anything human to reach. He held his blanket tight around(more) his figure, trying to calm his shaking limbs.
A creak on the floor told him he was not alone. It wasn't until recently he'd begun regretting his own bedroom - Growing up with someone else a few steps away may have seemed frustrating at the time, but he realized now that that appeared to be a much better scenario than the one he was presently in. At least with his brother a whisper away, he could call for help when he needed it.
The shadows laughed at him - They fed off of this torment, this fear. They loved to see him squirming and whimpering; his weakness was their victory. He shook his head back and forth, mumbling 'no' in repetition. Leave me alone, he grumbled, curling up in a ball, stay away!
Footsteps on the stairs sealed his fate. He pondered what to do, now that he'd reached his immediate end. Should he write his will? Who would get his stuffed rabbit, his books? The doorknob turned.
"Honey? Are you awake?"
He perked up, sticking his little blond head out and glancing at the woman standing in the door frame. "I made cookies!"
He beamed and reached out to grab one of the delicious treats. "Did I scare you, dear?" she snickered, looking at the little boy still hugging the sheet around his shoulders.
Shaking his head, he finished off the snack and laid back down. "Alright, my grown up boy - Get some sleep now, ok?" (less)
She hadn't really seen him there. No, she couldn't have possibly done that - He was gone and that was that. The shadows of his life seemed to be stalking her now, pursuing her nightmares and daymares, trying to get her attention and remind her of a past she'd(more) rather forget.
She was squatting on the carpet, a position that held her ready for a fast escape. Not that she would need one - There was nothing to escape from here. This was her home, she was safe here. Wasn't she?
Her thoughts remained a jumble, her face flushed. Something else moved in the corner. She blinked, looked twice - Nothing at all. The paranoia was the only thing that seemed to be causing any sort of trouble.
With a pulse beating its way into her throat, swallowing became a challenge. She placed one of her own hands against the large supply of veins and arteries, trying to contain the intense heart beat screaming from the thin passages. Again, a shadow caught her eye - She couldn't take much more of this.
The young woman glanced up as her partner walked into the room, pushing his glasses up his nose to get a better look at what she was doing. She sat cross legged on the green carpeting, rifling through piles and piles(more) of paper she was pulling out of a brief case before her. "Oh, nothing really," she replied with a shrug, "Just glancing through some of the old Arcazon things."
Wilson laughed, dropping down beside her and joining the search. "This stuff is really old now," he remarked, setting aside a few goofy doodles and beginning to read one of the documents, "Remember when we lived this full time?"
"Yeah, actually! It was pretty cool," Leslie smiled, "I sort of miss it! I mean, we've been living some great stuff lately, but I hope we never forget living this stuff, too."
The boy beside her leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm sure we can never forget them, Les," he replied, "They're too much a part of us."
Leslie giggled. "That's true, Will," she muttered back, "So very true..." (less)
they'd done this before. it was becoming oddly normal; skirting death, living on the boarder between this life and the next. for some reason, they'd begun to find some sort of comfort in it - each time they survived, they had another escape from dying(more) to flaunt.
this time, she hung from a bridge, his pale arm the only thing holding her up. he was shaking - his body was frail, not made for such rescues. the vehicles passing much too close to him for comfort only tore at his concentration, loosening his grip and encouraging a few more shouts to slip from her throat.
he shouted back that he was doing the best he could; she overestimated his strength. she yelled something about him being a winy little bitch, and this not being a good time to complain about the lack of muscle, but she soon silenced herself as he continued trying to pull her back up.
his fingers could each feel the shiver of her fear; it was a thrill in itself, to know that once again, he held her life in his hands. more often than not, he was the one at risk.
he played with the idea of leaving himself as the lone survivor in this situation. all he had to do was let go.
she crawled onto the pavement, finding he has disappeared just moments before. (less)
you'd heard that piano before. no, not the tune, but the piano itself. the instrument, though you had no possible way of seeing it right now, was most definitely something you'd heard played before. the pianist sounded familiar, too.
(more) you stood outside the theater doors, anxiously kicking at your own feet. you'd tried the handle gently, only to find the room to be locked. this was disappointing; even if you hadn't had the opportunity to talk to the musician, you wanted to see if you'd been right about their identity. you give the door one last tug, then give up the triumph, letting yourself sink slowly to the floor.
the notes continue to bewilder you as you try to form a picture in your mind - is it really him there, center stage, where he'd been last time you'd written him? the way he played was not unlike how he'd played the entire novel. but why was he here again? what did he want with you? or, more likely, what was it you wanted from him?
maybe this was a sign. of course it was a sign, EVERYTHING was a sign in your mind. you'd been sitting around on your bottom much too long - it was time to kick the ol' writing gears back in place and get something done for a change.
you stood up and walked out the front doors. (less)
she reached forward and wrapped her arms together
in a way that would open her up
because she'd been feeling rather clogged;
so she spread her shoulder blades
and waited for the waterfall of colors and shades
(more) to pour out onto the bare concrete ground
where all this energy could be found;
an energy fueled by grief or soreness or pain
grief or soreness or pain being thrown in piles of coal
into fires of old
that burned inside of the built in air sacs
and then they slowly slipped from flesh
skin to delicate skin
the sword pulled from the sheaf
the wings to set her free
The cold, hard ground still shook under me. The pulses were not as violent as before, but none the less, my bones felt that they might shatter at any moment. It was such an unnerving feeling that I almost had to find it disgustingly fascinating.
(more) I could tell by the odd stares I gleaned from other, more casual strollers, that this odd sensation only seemed real to me. They continued on across the cracked pavement, as if the only thing shaking was the branches on the wind blown trees.
The earth quake must have been from inside of me. (less)
i shook off the few drops that still clung to it, hoping the ink wouldn't run. words and nature always seemed best in tandem, but only if the words survived nature's trials. at the moment, nature seemed to be winning.
(more) i laid the page on the dock and reached in for the next, finding it just as doused as the first, if not more so, due to it's longer time in the lake. realizing that collecting all of the pages before they sunk became my first priority, lying them out in the sun on the old wood to dry.
as my thumb touched the first sentence of the last page, the letters began to smudge. i let out a little yelp, followed by a series of 'no's and setting the piece gently down. running my finger gently over another page, i had similar results - my story was drowning.
even the drier pages were developing inky puddles, leaving splotches where moments ago a symphony of thoughts and ideas had laid. i bit my lip, fighting back tears. soon, i accepted defeat, reaching forward and angrily smearing the letters this way and that.
after my bout of anger slowed to a close, i opened my wet eyes and stared down at my fingers. the ink coated my hands, leaving them a dark black shade. at first, i turned towards the water, prepared to rinse them off in the shallow lake, but i paused for a moment and pondered my situation.
these were my words, in a way, splattered on my fingers. the blood of my mind was on my hands, and in a way, it was just as beautiful as when it formed sensible shapes. i sighed then, finding peace within my sorrow. i rubbed my hands together and smiled. (less)
i can't even feel
the hands around me
the touch, abounding
they brush, hearts sounding
above all this madness
the pain and the sadness
(more) i've found certain gladness
behind the sharp glass;
and though it may cut you
leave you bleeding, diced up, you
will find its easier to see
when you've had a reason to doctor your eyes. (less)