The sun beat down unrelentingly, the midday heat rising from the concrete in waves that slapped at Thomas, searing reminders that he had made a terrible mistake.
He had retraced his steps to the gates of the school, but to no avail. He hadn’t found what he was looking for.
Luckily, there were still streams of kids exiting the grounds, so Thomas was able to squeeze back in unnoticed as he continued his search. He wracked his eight-year-old brains, trying to remember where he had seen it last.
He crept past the front office and back towards his classroom, flattening himself against a wall as groups of giddy children pushed past on th
With rust and cracking sounds, they spring,
back to the keys where once they'd bring
words turned honeyed, and candied scenes,
of life and what she thinks it means
She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars. It is easy to tell that she's unaccustomed to being alone. Ever since he left, she has watched the sky with undying fervor, as though hoping with all that she has he might return. It won't change a thing, of course, but the servants have long since given up the notion of rousing her from her trance; it is far easier for them to scuttle about the castle, cleaning and cooking at a minimum, than to wake her.
Adrina, they say, has not slept in four months. How could one call it "waking" if she has never closed her
Words upon the windowpane,
whispered in the night,
Frosty lines lie etched in gray,
meant to give you fright
Worry not, my dear sweet child,
for I am here with you,
And those who wish to harm us,
never will break through
Winds of howling creatures call,
to terrorize your soul,
But shut your eyes tight, darling,
and listen for the toll
When the night's been lifted,
and light begins to shine,
You'll see that you're all right,
the creatures did not dine
Another day before you,
another night behind,
Terror's in the peoples' eyes,
you swear, a cure you'll find
There are moments when I think of you;
your smile, your eyes, you hair,
And of the things that we might do,
if only life were fair.
If she were not upon your mind;
a toxin to your soul,
If you could see it's not her kind
that fills a gaping hole.
We'd talk about the little things
and every skill or vice,
We'd guess at what the future brings,
and kiss, just once or twice.
And if we found, by some mere chance,
the stirrings of true love,
We'd face the world with our shared glance;
shout to the gods above.
Hello, Bright Eyes. The dawn of Time shines from within you, threatening to burst through your fragile body. My hands twitch at my sides, wanting to help you, yet knowing that to do so would destroy everything I know and don't, everything I love and don't.
You, with your innocent smile tugging at your petal-pink child's lips. Even if the world were to see you, it could never guess you'd be the end of it. A bitter taste rises in my mouth, forcing my lips upward in a grimace-the grimace you adore so much.
When we first met, that day by the water fountain when I could still imagine going to the moon and learning to fly, I thought you had come
The words I see won't stitch themselves together. Though thread and needle are present and accounted for, the stubborn words just won't fly. My aching fingertips long for the warmth of merry words across frozen keys to melt away the frostbite of dulled creativity and empty thoughts.
Once upon a time, I could sit and instantly have these hovering words sewn in long lines of delicate fashion and graceful fluidity, but not anymore. Now the words float aimlessly around my buzzing skull, behind my heavy eyelids, and through the unlit passageways of my brain until I can take it no more and toss them aside for a later date.
I struggle, inward and
Sometimes I taptaptap at my keys, fueled with the thought that you might read my innermost feelings here.
Sometimes, I imagine that I never broke anything or anyone, that I'm just another faceless girl, waiting for her prince.
Sometimes I give up who I am, just for a moment or three or four, so I can float above and watch everything from the clouds, unharmed.
Sometimes I write about those times that aren't always, but not never, either; just some of the time.
The sand digs into my powdered feet when I step delicately across the familiar beach.
The path I take is forever ingrained in my mind, from times long ago when I used to pace this very expanse of land, relentlessly, in the heat of those endless summer days.
This place, it used to be a source of comfort; the only pinprick of calm in a dark, stormy night that seemed to tarry on forever until morning's heavenly light.
But these days, all it holds are empty, shattered memories of what used to be, and what should have been, but couldn't.
I suppose I should blame you for ruining my sanctuary, clouding it with visions of your brown eyes and your
The car was on fire. The air conditioning was out, and the car was ON FIRE, burnt to a healthy crisp by an angry dragon, so it would seem. This made the nearly three hour car ride (with two hundred rest stops) miserable, unbearable, even.
It was so scorching that I was struggling valiantly, just to drag the heavy oxygen into my rasping lungs. I didn't know how much more torment I could endure, when suddenly, the inevitable, the ominous, "We're here!" sung through the stuffy air of the burning motor vehicle, and the looming shadows of an entrance appeared before us.
SeaWorld.
A family "vacation" doomed to massive failure before it had hardl