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WWC2: The Loreithian Heritage - Ch. 3Luciana stared up at the large steel structure in the distance. It resembled a metal mountain, with peaks and valleys, but there were also strange twists and turns. A whooshing sounded, causing her to startle. She jumped back as a skinny snake-like thing flew over the top. The screams of the roller-coaster's riders could be heard, their arms flailing as they turned upside-down and continued on their way.
"Neat, huh?" Danny said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
It had been quite a walk from the car, but they could now see the entrance of the amusement park up ahead. The princess sucked in a ragged breath. She had told Danny that she would go on whatever ride he wanted, but now she was having second thoughts.
"Do they have anything that goes a bit...slower?"
"They have a trolley, and a merry-go-round, and whirl-a-gig."
The girl cocked her head.
His mouth turned downward. "Didn't you ever go to a carnival when you were on Earth before?"
WWC2: The Loreithian Heritage - Ch. 2 Sara stood by the ledge of the rooftop garden, her eyes fixed on the darkened lake in the distance. Even though the lights of the city glared, the way the water shimmered brought her back to Loreithia, to the last night she and Fariet had spent together. He had taken her to lake that bordered Elekville, where all was quiet and serene. They had dined on roasted pheasant and berries, and he had read her elven poetry. Then they had made love under the moonlight.
Pushing the memory aside, she chastised herself. That was a lifetime ago. Why did she hold on to the memories so strongly?
Deep down she knew the answer, but didn't want to admit it to herself.
A whooshing sound filled the air and her gaze shifted from the water, downwards towards the street. She gasped as a figure came into view, slowly rising to her level.
Resin adjusted his jetpack so that he cleared the wrought-iron railing and landed next to her. He flashed a wide smile. "Hey."
A Thousand Paper CranesAs I lay down to rest,
my wishes of hope take flight on the
wings of a thousand paper cranes
I’ll live now forever more.
Beautiful RuinAs I live and breath your darkness,
I am haunted by your dark desires,
Blinded by your detestation,
I am your most beautiful ruin.
In this beautiful ruin,
I will continue to exist,
Forever lamenting the loss
of my sweet innocence.
And in the sorrow that I miss,
I will not rest in this fading light,
Finding the strength to save me,
I will never rest until I set it right.
The chains that haunt me forever binding,
So fragile in the ruins of a haunted passing,
All alone in the dark with no one to guide me,
Wishing to turn back the pages of this haunting tale.
Yet against all odds,
I will turn this into a fairy tale ending.
From Dust to DreamsLocked in a world of darkness,
My dreams are my only escape.
Sometimes I fear sleeping
But when I do, I dream of stars
Dreams can set one free
Locked in a desolate world
Hidden away from the light
Seeking the joy of freedom
My dreams are the true key
As I sleep, they are bright and vivid
Prayers that guide
Wishes that give hope
Shining as luminous stars
They are treasures to be cherished
Precious, no longer tears and dust.
Lost and FoundIt was a cold, dark night. The soft pitter patter of rain hit the stone ground and little drips of water splashed into the small cardboard box he had made his home. A soft sigh escaped his throat. How long has it been since he last had a nice meal? One week? Maybe two? He didn't know anymore. They had left him, all alone. He moved so his back was to the rain, curling up around himself to try to keep warm. He closed his eyes, hoping to escape into a dream where life was still happy and nice and good. Sleep caught him quick, even though his stomach rumbled and his throat was dry. He licked his lips as he dreamt of the good things that happened in his imaginary world.
Ah yes...Mumsie. So warm and caring, loving him even as he batted at and nipped at her tail. Well-fed and with no thirst in his throat--warm, cosy and dry. He opened his eyes to look up at her, but saw only darkness, the sounds of rain returning. The dream was no more, only dreadful reality.
The soft pitter patter turned to
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
Frozen in TimeHer hopes and dreams are frozen in time
Trapping the sadness that clouds her mind
The trust she had is no more
She longs for what did go before
Frozen tears shatter on dreary floors.
Memories into a million pieces.
They melt and are no more,
leaves a stain, a mark of pain
and still the frozen tears fall.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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