[x]

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

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 g

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,
Hope.

The light in the darkness,
The hero in war,
The one who nursed us from birth,
Hope.

Like a glow in the fog,
Like a numb in the pain,
It is the silver lining on the cloud,
Hope.

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.

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.

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,
Silence.
Light footsteps,
Silence.

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,
I turn,
I see,
I

Scream!

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 bu

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 stud

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, te

MilagroShe lay on the narrow bed, connected to an almost frightening array of tubes, needles, and drips. Snatches of conversation flitted in and out of her awareness.

"… massive internal injury …"

"… close to death …"

"… no response …"

"… organs will fail if she does not wake soon…"

She wanted to wake up. She tried so hard, but after two days of trying the small sliver of consciousness she was struggling to reach was only moving further and further away. And she was tired, so very tired.

On the fifth day she stopped fighting.

* * *

"Evelyn."

That voice. His voice.

"Evelyn, it's me, Adam."

Goodbye Ad

The Garden of EdenAway from the smoke, away I go,
Away from the noise and the black snow.
No more will I labour before a machine,
Instead I'll work outside in the green.

Leaving behind the boring monotony,
I'll go and find a life of beauty,
For I will once again be in freedom,
Like we started, in the Garden of Eden.

The Broken Pieces of Her Sh...The Broken Pieces of Her Shattered Heart

Silence Harrol sat at the loom, working her fast, slender fingers along the threads that would soon be her wedding dress. Her parents had been so excited when they told her that she was betrothed to Henry Almington, the local business personage. Of course, no one listened to her objections, that he was an arrogant drunkard who cared for nothing but money, and that he was drastically older than her, in his thirties, while she was only fifteen.
The bells tolled, "I now give you Mrs. Almington" Mrs. Almington, Mrs. Almington, Almington, Almington. The name rang in Silence's ears, the name she would have

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

21 grams lighter.If you were to kill someone, who would it be?

Today I came up with the answer to that question, and so I did it.

I killed someone.

I killed my fat self. I stabbed her, once and again. Oh, what a pleasure! Her blood now decorates the walls of my heart.

Yes, I feel empty without her, but it's a nice emptiness, one that gives me purity.

I am no longer tarnished by food. I am finally the conqueror of my world, of my body.

I no longer cry in disgust towards myself. Instead, the silence is broken by the roar of my people, inhabiting my stomach.

I am a cruel ruler, I'm starving them to death, because fatty is no longer around to feed them.

I

LIFE AND YOUI was so used to the rain that when the sun came out I felt utter fear and ran away...

Caveo of MortalitasI see

Black, a dark swirling cloud that spreads from before my eyes to the edges of my vision. Black, and nothing more.

I hear

The soft whispers, all around me, come now, join us, it is time…

I feel

Nothing.

I have nothing, no mind, no body, just a soul within the darkness. I see the clouds, hear the whispers, though I am not sure whether or not "see" and "hear" are the right words, for I have no ears, no eyes; I just know.

Come now…The whispers are beckoning. But no, I'm not going to listen.

Join us… But I can't. I have a life to live, a full one, not one cut short so unfairly like this.

It is time… But why? Why

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StepsShe stood in front of the old sandstone church, her blood pounding through her veins and her breath catching in her lungs. She was here, she had come, there was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath she forced her feet to move, feeling her heart jolt with each step she took. Weaving absentmindedly through the passing cars that she did not hear, walking gently over the freshly mowed lawn littered with small blooming flowers that she didn't see, up to the carved iron doors that stood solidly shut between her and the crowd. She knew it would be a substantial crowd, made up of various friends and family members come to pay their respects, and

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We thought we could rule the universe.

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"Maternity ward please, Nurse Davis, they've requested an extra nurse."

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Wrote,

Immortal.

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The night was late, they warned her not to walk home after the party but it was just too nice to call a taxi. The clear black sky, the thousands of silver pinpricks, she was too busy admiring the beauty of nature to realise that she was being followed.

The boy flailed his li

Across No Man's Land0900 hours, December 25

"Her name was Anna," the English soldier said, "our wedding would have been today, if I hadn't been drafted. She was always religious, said her childhood dream was to get married on Christmas."

"I had a wife," the German soldier replied in barely accented English. "Broke her heart when the conscription letter came."

It was an odd scene, this was, two people who had previously been trying to kill each other, talking now like old mates.

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"Me too, and my son as well. Always warning his daddy not to get hurt.

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Lady Death

by ~Treo-LeGigeo, Nov 13, 2009, 8:40:46 PM
Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Free Verse

They 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.

Lady Deathby ~Treo-LeGigeo

Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Free Verse

Who is Death?

~SamalaKatal Sep 5, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

A beautiful poem,
The words run so smooth!
As if they were laid
In a former-set groove
I could read this poem over
Again and again!
Tell me, have you read
Shakespeare's "Sonnet 10"?

~Treo-LeGigeo Sep 5, 2010 Writer

Hehe, thank you, glad you liked it.

Ummm, no I haven't read it, let me do so now...

Well, I'm not really a big fan of Shakespeare. I mean he's good, but I'd prefer Oscar Wilde or George Orwell.

~SamalaKatal Sep 6, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

I agree that Oscar Wilde is better (I'm a bigger Poe fan then anything), and I'm not a fan of Shakespeare, but that specific poem is amazing.

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Lady Death

Lady Deathby ~Treo-LeGigeo

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