| Do not fear the storm... This is the result of when I write prose. |
| Do not fear the storm... This is the result of when I write prose. |
GoneThe warm smell of gingerbread Floats overhead. Still I can't believe, That he is really dead.Gone
I want to say farewell, But I can't cut the tie. I hold his picture close, As I collapse and cry.
My eyes stain red, My heart is wrenched, As I walk to His favorite bench.
His flag... I hold it in my hands, I hug it close, He'll understand.
My dress, Dark black, Seems stained with blood, As he was on the trip back.
His tag... I bring it to my lips, Memories of him, Flash as it sli
The Storm "Come here, child." the soft click of high heels slowly moved across the room. "Do you hear that thunder?" A small child's head emerged from a blanket, wide-eyed and pale. He nodded.The Storm
"It's nothing but the angels bowling." A tumultous clap of thunder sounded overhead. Smiling she exclaimed "Strike!" The child emerged more from the blanket.
"Hear the whistle of the wind as it hits the glass and plays with the wind chimes?" She laughed a hearty laugh and whistled a soothing tune. "The sound of chiors of angels, singing
AthenaA harsh pain on top, my head on fire. Make it stop, release the pain.Athena
I had no child, but what is this? A great smile, pure gray eyes?
Her battle armor shines so bright, Hephaustus, son, you've done all right, and wise.
You, my girl, are wise. Warriors curl, at first sight.
So now my bolts can light the sky. Now my headache does subside.
The Second MeetingThere he was... Back again. That blue-eyed boy, With the baby face.The Second Meeting
Her cheeks turned As red as her hair, Recalling their first meeting.
Bereaved. Her family slaughtered, Yet... No evidence.
Forced to watch, As they cried for sanctum... Forced to be The only one.
Misjudged, By her adolescence. Unheard Were her sobs.
One exception, Of this young man, Whose caring, Only harmed.
She need not know His name. She need not tell Her desire.
Sh
Panic AttackStressed, afraid, brought down with sickening guilt Mortified, horrified, breaking down these walls I've built What is this feeling that so suddenly swept over me? I've lost all control of what I do and what I see My palms are slick with beads of sweat, my ears are loudly ringing I wish I could just make some sense in this phase of desperate beingPanic Attack
Bleak, disturbing, darkness and fright is all that you will find in here Nothing can compare to this cold and overwhelming fear The voices scream silence inside of my crowded head Turning my kind thoughts violent, it on
.:w o r l dit's eight oh eight, and you pick up the phone, dialing the numbers you have etched into the insides of your eyelids. you wait with baited breath as the phone rings. four jarring notes of nervous fear, and he picks up, with a mumbled [yet ohso clear] "hullo,".:w o r l d
you suck in your breath, silently, feeling your stomach go all funny. "hey, it's me," you say, then immediately hate yourself for it. it's not exactly the most beautiful way to start a conversation.
"oh, hi," he says, surprise and something else - nervousness? you smile somewhere deep inside... there's hope, maybe - lacing his voice. you can hear that voice in a
ItHer wide eyes darted back and forth as she ran as fast as she could through the woods behind her house. The sun was setting and the sky was turning into brilliant colors of vermilion; but she had no time to admire this sight. The hood of her light gray sweatshirt beat rhythmically against her back; her heart was pounding. A twig that sounded behind her meant they were getting closer. She cringed as she stepped into a giant mud hole and then struggled to remove her now soiled sneakers. She could already feel the cold muddy water seeping in through her sock to her pale ankle.It
S
Broken WallsBroken Walls, an ATLA fanfictionBroken Walls
She had died in early autumn, surrounded by her element. He had expected the world to end then, for everything to just stop. But the leaves continued to fall, the river continued to babble, and passersby continued to marvel at the courage and wisdom that five kids had to end a hundred-year-war.
She'd loved them all, in her own way, always doing something or the other for someone else. He would always think bitterly that the Spirits had plotted a terrible curse for him, taking away every person that he loved. Every person who had good left to do in the world.
Watching her
| You know they're good, 'cuz they're in here! |
HOLIDAY
Christmas Spirited
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To love someone is to learn the song that is in their heart and to sing it to them when they have forgotten.
My clubs: #NaturPics-club, *justAnimals, ~flower-club
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"A dream is inspiration... Inspiration is a legacy."
~Erika (Me)
--
"A dream is inspiration... Inspiration is a legacy."
~Erika (Me)
--
"A dream is inspiration... Inspiration is a legacy."
~Erika (Me)
Great work
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“Imagination is stronger than knowledge, myth is more potent than history, dreams are more powerful than facts, hope always triumphs over experience, laughter is the cure for grief, love is stronger than death.”
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"A dream is inspiration... Inspiration is a legacy."
~Erika (Me)
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