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Breaking Fall The morning rain fell around me, shining slightly in the light of the small sliver of sun that was beginning to peer over from the East. The movie set I was shooting on was located on a picturesque stretch of grassland, which would have appeared like a Garden if Eden of sorts if it wasn't for the plumes of dark grey city-smoke on the horizon. The cross-country train station was completely deserted. Perfect. There was no one to see me, no one to find me, no one to recognise me...
"Mr Parker, Mr Parker!" came the shrill cries of the paparazzi as the world famous movie star fought his way from the set back to his trailer. "Could you answer a few questions?" He ignored the onslaught and pushed his way past the hordes of fans, journalists, and magazine photographers. He didn't need this, not now. He had just received the worst phone call of his life and they wanted him to interrogate him about it? "Will you give us a quote?" He
I Am WinterI warn you, I'm blizzards by the dozen,
Each surface glassy ice and powder snow,
Frost, sleet, hail, and all else that is frozen,
Is all that I am, is all that I know.
It seems that she'd been with me since the bud,
With me before I existed at all,
She said she wanted love, she took my blood,
Her teeth in my vein, she drained all my soul.
Her breath is vanilla, part of her spell,
And I thought it would be mine to keep,
I gave her my heart, she took it as well,
Like slipping into cold eternal sleep.
Lips on mine drank my warmth, she's the hunter,
I'm all that she left me, I am winter.
Lady DeathThey think Death is the Reaper,
Carrying his scythe,
Able to disappear into vapour,
Like a shadow in light.
But no, Death takes the shape,
Of a person, a woman at that,
With a pitch black cloak a flowing cape,
A crucifix of coal, and grace like a cat.
On rhinestone boots she treads the land,
With midnight eyes she tracks her prey,
A spear of onyx in her hand,
Her hair of ink soaking up every sun's ray.
She dons a studded ebonite vest,
With denim of iron sitting on her hip
A blood stained cutlass at her wrist,
Rings of beryl through her lip.
Her ears are pierced with needle sharp bone,
Her eyelids smudged with ash,
Her mouth a deep, blood-red tone,
the colour of night on each eyelash.
So who is this Queen of Darkness?
Who can she be?
An answer finally comes to a question ageless.
Death, is me.
Witchcraft"It is rather unnatural for me to be here right now, but there are not natural times," the farmer said with a grim countenance. "I have come to you because I am going to die."
The witch leaned forward, surveying her guest. He was not unlike the other men who regularly came to her for advice, with simple clothes that were slightly torn and ragged but still adequate, tanned skin from his outdoor labour, and strong calloused hands from his work in the field. "And why do you believe that?"
"I have seen omens," the farmer replied. "My crops, you see, which I constantly tend to ensure their prosperity, that were grown on the same field that had grown many plentiful harvests in the past, have failed without reason. And last week I went down to the paddock where I keep my cows to find them all lying on the ground, strewn about, as they would have been standing before their lives were taken so suddenly and with no discernable cause. My farm is dead. And it is all in preparation for when I will
Bed Time StoryI told this story to my two-and-a-half-year-old sister tonight, and if anyone is wondering who on Earth tells stories like this, just keep in mind that young children enjoy stories of just about any subject matter, as long as it flows and contains elements they like. As for my sister, she likes the planets, bunnies, paintings, and has a habit of memorising names that she hears regularly (say, politicians perhaps).
If you think this is ridiculous, well, just think of it as a very serious postmodern stream-of-consiousness piece.
You know how Mercury is a rocky ball? Well it's very small, so small in fact that it was carried by a bunny. The bunny and Mercury decided to journey to Saturn where they met a television who told them that a bird was going to land on Pluto. And then another bunny joined them, so the two bunnies, the television, and Mercury went to Pluto, where they found the bird that was landing and it was an eagle. They also found a Kevin Rudd Memorial Bunny and a Tony Abbott
Happy EndingsHappy Endings Are Just Fairytales That Haven't Finished Yet
They stand in the courtyard in their finery, the Prince of the land dressed in a majestic black tunic and the daughter of the kingdom's richest Lord draped in the glorious white silks of her gown. The people cheer as they walk past, throwing ribbons and flowers at the newlywed couple. The Prince basks in the attention, smiling and waving at the crowd as he leads his bride toward the castle gates.
It should be me.
It should be me at his side, wearing his ring, spending his wedding night. How many times had he told me that? How many times had he whispered words of love in my ear, telling me that I was the only woman for him, promising that we would be together forever?
And how many times had I believed him.
I should have known, I should have realised that a Prince like him would never marry a common girl like me. But I didn't. Instead, I lived thoughtlessly by his side as his mistress, his paramour, oblivious to the whisp
TwoThe small sliver of sun that was just beginning to peak over the East cast a pale yellow light over the small park, making the drops of dew clinging to each blade of grass sparkle like a thousand diamonds. Two figures sat on the edge of the park on an old bench that once, many years ago, might have been painted green, but now had worn away to the bare, weathered wood.
The day had begun.
* * *
The figure in white took a deep breath, her short summer dress fluttering around her. She closed her eyes and began to count in her head. She wouldn't be staying long, just a minute in the frigid morning air before it would be back inside for her studies. The childhood of a future top grade private lawyer didn't have time for lazing around.
60, 59, 58, not much time. She only had a minute in the morning to ready her mind, then it would be time to go to her morning classes, followed by the day at her expensive private school, followed by more classes with professional tutors, all paid for by
Pandora's BoxAt first I loathed that woman,
Pandora, who released the evils,
Into the world we live in,
And destroyed the human race.
But then I reconsidered,
For she had kept trapped the evil,
Of foresight, and had given us,
The light in the darkness,
The hero in war,
The one who nursed us from birth,
Like a glow in the fog,
Like a numb in the pain,
It is the silver lining on the cloud,
Hope, happiness, haven,
We owe it all to the woman,
Who let out all the horrors, except one,
And became both mankind's villain, and hero.
Not YouI thought there was a black hole,
In my chest, where others have a heart.
I've hurt so many and not cared at all,
But now there's a feeling which just won't part.
I see you standing there,
A victim you would have been,
But now I sit and stare,
Now I think differently.
Your innocence and your beauty,
The look you have in your eyes,
Took me back abruptly,
Took me by surprise.
You befriended me, unaware,
Then started changing me too.
I can't continue, no I can't bear,
To do what I planned to do.
Is this love no it cannot be,
Surely that couldn't come from,
Someone as heartless as me,
Or perhaps I'm wrong.
This I've never felt before,
What is it that you do?
I only know that I can't hurt you anymore,
No, not you.
butterfly kisseshe told me he played tic-tac-toe on his arm
with a razorblade once
and showed me the scars to prove it
i grazed my fingers over his forearm
marked with faint white lines
that made me scared i would lose him someday
and i thought back to that one time
when he was drunk and i could hear
the urgency in his voice as he stood on a ledge
but all i could feel was his heart beating faster then
when i touched the stories permanently inscribed
in his skin
and his left hand tracing the outline of my jaw
and even the tickle of his eyelashes against my cheek
as we sat in the backseat of his nissan.
Where Light is SwallowedI only step out when no one is coming home
The sun sets, and drags the veil from my eyes
I sink just below your searching lights
There is a heaven in this night
that evacuates my mind into the world around me
Where I'm going, there will be no stopping
I'll glance over my shoulder,
then I'll disappear
Life of DepressionLiving with a mood disorder makes every day a struggle. A struggle to wake up in the morning, a struggle to get yourself ready for the day, a struggle to maintain relationships – a struggle to smile and mean it. I’ve never been professionally diagnosed, but I know something’s not right. I knew around the beginning of high school. Something isn’t right, isn’t balanced, inside of me. I’ve read enough books to give these thoughts and feelings a name – depression.
The commercials which say depression hurts everywhere are right. It hurts emotionally, cognitively, physically, and behaviorally. It makes me feel sad and hopeless, lonely and confused, angry and dragged down. It makes me think that no one cares and no one understands, that I can’t handle my life or even myself, and that I don’t have much value. It makes me sluggish and restless, eating too much, and having trouble falling asleep and waking up. It makes me cry spontaneously an
InvisibilityMy breath instantly caught as my eyes lifted only to see him. My body already felt like it was on fire and he wasn't even close to where I was standing. My palms grew sweaty and my breath began to quicken.
It amazed me how beautiful a single boy could be. The sun couldn't compete with the brightness of his eyes. They were as blue as the clear ocean or a warm cloudless day, filled with joy and always lit up with an inner flame, full of life and youth. His face was all smooth planes and sharp edges. He had a strong jaw and a very tall, muscular lean body.
His hair was amazing, too. His bangs hung over his eyes, swept to the side. It was a golden, honey colored as if touched by the sun's rays. It was so silky, so soft, so perfected
Then he looked up and his gaze flickered to my direction. My heart sped up and beat with an uneven rhythm. The butterflies in my stomach exploded into swooping eagles and I could feel my breath catch in my throat.
Oh my God, he's coming towards me, he'
Heart EaterTake my heart and tear it up;
Play with the strings and drink the blood.
Did you have fun?
Was it worth it?
Hope you're glad I'm broken now.
I'm leaning against the corner wall,
The bleeding hole where my heart should be is
Still leaking blood from my feelings for you,
And I watch you with eyes of glass
As I see you with another.
Holding their hand and smiling wide,
Your teeth still stained with my blood.
Only now do I realize
The collection of hearts
You keep deep inside your stomach.
BoogeymanOf shards of glass he makes his teeth
And shadows are his skin
His rumor keeps me hiding under sheets
Waiting for the sunrise to begin
All day he waits in closets and drawers
To feed upon the unruly
Little children who haven't done their chores
And boys who treat girls cruelly
When those children fall fast asleep,
He breathes into their ears
There will be no more counted sheep
If you awake while he's over your bed
You will see his golden eyes
Then he'll eat you up starting at the head
Despite your pleading cries
This monster, yes, he has a weakness
One thing that will leave him stricken
Sing with your whole heart and nothing less
Journey's "Don't Stop Believin"
+I'm sorry...I'm sorry for letting you down...
I'm sorry for breaking your dreams...
I'm sorry for causing you pain...
I'm sorry for being the reason of your tears...
I'm sorry that my words
Are not what you want to hear...
I'm sorry that my face
Is not what you want to see...
I'm sorry for not being able to express myself
And hiding in my shell...
I'm sorry for not being perfect
And ruining all that I touch...
I'm sorry for not being what you want me to be...
I'm sorry for being me...
The Truth The Truth
See, the funny thing with people
They like to create things
But they don't like to look
Upon their creation.
See, the funny thing with people
They like to make messes
But not clean them up.
See, the funny thing with people
FearI stand, the night closing around me,
I stare into the dark whirlpool of black,
I feel the cold wind lash at my skin,
I am afraid.
Nowhere to turn,
Nowhere to go,
Lost in the woods,
Stranded in a void of nothingness.
Rustling of leaves,
Frozen I stand,
My heart racing in my chest,
The silence like a thick blanket,
There is a tap on my shoulder.
I force myself to move,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More