to all the dreamers:
go ahead and build your air castles;
let no one tear them down.
you are just as strong as they;
but your armor doesn't show.
Winter--6"Why?" my voice sounds small, or smaller than usual at least. The demon has been silent for the last twenty or so minutes of our walk, lost in thought, it seemed. I wasn't stupid enough to try to make a run for it--I know well enough that even distracted, he's more than a match for me.
"Why what?" still obviously lost in thought, he doesn't even look at me.
"Why are you kidnapping me?"
"I'm getting paid, why else?" a bit of sharpness enters his tone. Ah, so I've struck a nerve.
"Yeah but what kind of payment is worth committing a crime?" I don't expect an answer, so I'm obviously surprised when I get one.
"A wish. The Mother of Winter offered me a wish to get you back." He stares straight ahead, his eyes focussed on the distance.
"What wish?" Damn my curiosity. It isn't a good idea to piss off demonic entities, as I constantly remind myself.
"That is not relevant, child. Any wish I have can be granted by winter's Mother. No more questions. We're almost there, anyway."
Winter--5Chaos is a way of life. Unfortunately I was not the one that decided it would be my way of life.
But hey, I'd managed to run from the demonic-looking nutjob that had kidnapped me, so silver linings I guess.
I run through the forest quickly, though the terrain is rougher than I'm used too--my track jacket gets caught on a limb and I leave it; I have no time to stop and free it with that psycho probably right on my heels.
I realize about five minutes into my run that I have no chance. Like, guppy in a shark's tank level odds.
As much as I hate to admit it, Mr. body-mods is strong, fast, and probably not human.
I keep running anyway, my sweater getting caught and torn several times on branches. Even though I'm in track the terrain is cruel, and eventually I collapse bonelessly, resting my back against a tree.
Of course, that's when my personal psycho decides to appear.
A split forms in the air, dark red and angry looking. A second later he steps through and crosses his arms.
Winter--4The kid is awestruck, and rightly so. The forest around us tends to have that effect, at least until you're able to see through the glamour. I myself can, if only because I've lived here so long.
Even so, I let the kid keep his delusion.
He'll need it.
I unlock the car, and the kid immediately gets out, not even thinking of what might be lurking.
Teenagers. They're always so oblivious. As it were, the only thing lurking is my daughter, Lilith, her hair tied back in a long braid of brunette. She takes after me, but pointed ears peek through her hair, a sign of her half-elf heritage.
"Daddy! Welcome back." I make a small 'oof' sound as she tackles me. This was not, I might add, my most eloquent moment.
"No problem, Daddy. Well I should probably get back...papa will be worried and he's got his hands full with Luci and Noah..." with that, she leaves me and the kid alone. Except, the kid isn't there. A trail of footprints winds off into the forest.
Just my luck.
Winter--3."Are you going to kill me?" the kid looks way too frightened at that prospect. Ah, suburbia, making teenagers into deer since....whenever.
"No, kid. Not going to kill you." I slip my keys into the ignition of the muscle car I'd been loaned, ignoring the fact that I had absolutely no idea how to actually drive the thing.
"...but you're a hitman! Aren't you going to, you know..." he makes a motion, drawing his finger across his neck.
"No. And why aren't you impressed by my portal? I thought that was cool..."
"It was but I'm more worried about you killing me than some cross dimensional folding."
"Okay valid point. Now how to I start this thing??"
"You...can't drive? Who are you?"
"The better question is what am I." I pull off the cap that hides my hair and horns, and finally let my tail free of my trousers. I thank the gods I can even get it out, considering how tight the pants are.
The kid, true to expectations, backs away as far as he can, trying to exit the car. Thankfully, chil
Winter--2The kid is small, and I can't help but feel pity for him as he gets shoved around. Not enough pity to, you know, do something, but enough to realize that he reminds me of some people I knew.
Dammit. I was actually starting to empathize with this kid. Bad move.
I close in a bit on the kid, enough to intimidate the preps around him. He doesn't notice, distracted as he is looking down at his feet. Something told me the kid was way too used to this.
The kid, aka Sam Myrtle, aka Chill hangs a left turn into the guys bathroom. I decide that this is my moment to strike, catch the kid with his pants down as it were. And no, not sorry for the pun.
I step inside, and find the kid looking in a frosted-over mirror, crying. Damn, I thought I had issues. He catches sight of me watching him (and lightly cringing) and takes a step back, holding up his hands in defense.
"Get away from me! I'll fight back, I swear. I..I know judo!"
"No, you don't. I read your file, kid. Now c'mon, please st
Winter--1.Dear gods I hate the human world. It's hard enough to hide horn nubs and pointed ears, even without all the stigma about tails, not to mention holy water, churches, and pop culture references.
I hate it even more when I'm sent to the human world to find someone.
Have I mentioned that I hate faeries too? Because that's important, and if there's one thing I hate more than missions to the human world in order to find someone, it's missions to the human world to find someone who happens to be a lost changeling prince.
Yeah, I'm kind of having a sucky day.
I also kind of suck at looking like a human highschooler. Uniformly unique teens give me wary glances, sneering at my goth chic gear. Damn preppies.
In a streak of luck, at least I can track my target pretty easily. White-blonde hair, more white than blonde, covers his blue grey eyes. An overlarge sweater conceals what I know to be a pale body, the sleeves hiding his hands as well. I knew from his file that he had mostly A's in his
i am not anymore (i was, i was.)it hurts
you are concrete and chipped teeth,
you, my cementhead,
you, a surgeon general's warning
i was not lightning,
i was a supernova,
i was lightning in a bottle
Healer“Dante, no. Exactly how drunk was I when I agreed to that?!”
“Well....that certainly woke you up, at least.” Dante threw his head back and laughed like a little kid. Of course, he was far more menacing than a little kid, considering that he three inch fangs—all the better to eat me with.
Despite the fangs, I slapped him, hard. The tiny silver ring I wore for just such occasions made contact with his cheek, burning. His laugh stopped dead, and for a second, the only noise was the sizzling of his skin. A drop of ichor dripped down, burning a small hole in the floor. Another, unluckily, landed on me. Other than that, the room was silent as a grave.
I waited, almost feeling guilty. He stayed still, starting to smell like barbecue.
Then, calmly, he grasped my wrist and pulled it away from his face. A hideous burn—a cauterized hole , about the size of my thumbnail, left a crater in his smooth skin. Unperturbed, he sighed and went back to cleaning my
A tale of two kingsDante King was not overly tall, nor overly masculine, nor even overly handsome. What he was, however, was incredibly intimidating. Five eight, with striking, inhuman eyes—black schlera with red irises—and marble pale skin, incubus stood casually, waiting for me to invite him in (magical creatures, most especially those of the spirit variety, can't cross a threshhold without an invitation, and though Dante was no garden variety ghoul, the rules still applied.)
He was an idiot if he actually thought I'd let him through.
As striking as he was, Dante was the kind of person I didn't easily associate with—rich. Heavily into body mods, the incubus had enough metal in his face to buy my little apartment five times over. To be honest, I'm pretty the amount of gel in his hair was worth more than enough to buy it, too.
Today was different. His undercut was ungelled, his hair unbrushed, it seemed. His piercings were in, but they didn't shine, like usual. A growth of stubble decor
On losing a friend(it did not end in tears.)
I could give you armfuls of oceans, great
mountain ranges wrapped in silver bows,
a coral reef gleaming like a sapphire chain
but you will always ask for a dormant volcano
and a star you can hold in your palm.
And I have tried to be that star, have tried to
combust bright enough, shrink small enough
but it is never enough for you. You kiss my
mouth with those carmine lips and swallow my
heartbeat with your gentle laugh and I glow
I glow and you go you go you go on stringing
me along a trail of crumbs, making me forget
that I am starving myself for your table scraps.
I could press the slats of pre-dawn light into your
answering machine, could fold dust columns that
fall between venetian archways into your bedsheets,
could hang the lost jewels of jaguar fangs clattering
above your dreamcatcher and you would only ask for
a dormant volcano and a brittle sea-salt glass wave.
And I have tried to capture the tides and I have tried
to blow glass but my hands are clum
JudgmentCapricious, erratic creatures,
You observe the likeness of unknown features,
Condemning, curving your mouth with disdain
For the decorum of oneself shall obey your malicious reign.
The abomination you painted in your narrow mind,
Was no more than an eccentric brother yet to find
Utter compliance you seek,
Yet of vain dejection you only reek.
The enmity that guides your every line
Is but poison you gulped instead of light so divine.
Depart from the ignorance that compels you,
Underneath the deception lies all that is true.
DarknessThe disease came in the form of quiet, loving destruction.
It pulled me out to sea,
Waves crashing in on me from all directions.
It planted lilies in my throat.
Until I choked on
Roses and chrysanthemums.
It made my mind my own personal head stone.
Nothing but polluted words
The flowers made it sound so playful and innocent when I said,
'I am better off dead.'
You rage wars.
Tugging at the skin underneath my eyes.
Of a once friendly stranger's goodbyes.
Quiet and loving.
You made me fall in love with the velvet of your darkness.
The way you cloaked yourself around me.
You gave me the piercing control of a knife.
'Death isn't a disease. It is a solution.'
A solution to the dark abyss.
Nags at the back of my skull.
It makes my eyes dull.
The darkness loved my light.
It loved it so much,
It was a parasite.
It stole my sun.
Now I am just a super nova
Collapsing in on itself,
Until I, myself, become the black hole.
A Letter to My Best FriendA letter to my best friend, for when he is feeling badly
When your sunny skies turn to thunder clouds.
When you can't hear your own thoughts
Over rumbling drum rolls of thunder.
I will be the umbrella to protect you
From the freezing rain.
I'd set my bones aflame
Watch them spark and burn.
I'd turn my soul into a Bon fire
Just to keep you warm.
I'd catch fire flies like stars.
I would keep them in a jar
And give them to you.
Because you light up the dark of the night sky.
When I am feeling blue
You are the one that helps me get through
The murk of my lonely thoughts.
And sometimes, I don't feel like you see yourself clearly.
I wish you could see you
The way I do.
I see you in the stars
You talk about them so fondly.
Every constellation reminds me of you.
I wonder if you are made of cosmos.
Such chaotic, pure energy,
I see you in the rain.
You are cold
I'd dance to the music of your soft,
Pitter- patter melody.
I see you in the air I breathe.
Because you are the thing
Fairy Tale GirlFairy tale little girl.
She wears a crown upon her head,
And befriends the monsters under her bed.
She sings songs to birds.
But no one ever heard
Her cries when the castle walls came tumbling down.
Real world little girl.
She weaves herself a fantasy inside her mind.
Hoping to find
The same peace from when she was young.
And she's like water colors.
So soft, and easily washed away.
She is the soft blues in the morning of a new day.
I found her hiding within her tower.
Far above the real world below.
She is so broken but never lets it show,
So desperate for some fairy tale ending.
She asked me quietly one day,
'Do you think the world will ever be like my story books?'
I thought for a moment before replying,
'In order to survive there are some bad things you have to overlook.'
'The world is grey.'
I heard her say one day.
As if accepting the odd mixture of good and bad.
Her voice sounded happy and sad,
All at once.
As she ripped away the last page
In her story book.
Your feelings are validI once read
that a teaspoon of matter
from a black hole
can weigh thousands of tons
so think about that
when someone tells you
your problem is no big deal
it may not look
like you have the weight of the world
upon your shoulders
but it sure can feel like it.
The Rogue FactorRise, fall, get up, stumble and run
it's getting harder to catch a breath
in this cloud of scorching lies you've shoved me in.
Stop right there, I am not following you again
you, the one who held a scythe to my throat,
had only brought me closer to a death I didn't cry for.
It's a price I've paid for having faith in
you, the one with blooming roses
and stinging, poisonous thorns.
Whose dreams was I chasing?
Were they yours, mine or
were they the illusions of a distant fall?
Heaven and Hell crossed at your feet
but you took the wrong turn and blindly led the way,
straight into a fire that welcomed me with open arms.
Doubt someone like you can atone,
you, the one with a habit of tearing souls.
Yet here I stand, and fight
against you, once and for all.
I grew tired of letting you take control.
I found a strength in a goal you can't claim,
my life and my work are no longer yours.
Hope shines bright you monster,
I'm not going to be a victim,
I'm not holdi
The GardeniasI told you I had wildflowers growing in my veins
and you thought it was quaint,
so when I took shears to my jugular -
you wouldn’t help me cut them out.
You thought I’d be opheliac
if they bloomed, splashing white
into my already paling wrists.
Maybe you thought the perfume would purify me
and being a tragic heroine
would be better than just being tragic.
Their roots choked out my heart and
to my blood
as I died,
drowning in the after-effects of Pretty,
all I could hear
was you telling me that you loved
that I had Gardenias in my eyes.
Eighteen Years OldTwenty years old, and unhappy with the world.
Twenty years old and threatening teenage girls.
Twenty years old and unsure of who you are.
Twenty years old and hiding behind keys
and a space bar.
At twenty years old, your anger gets the best of you,
at twenty years old, I'd hate to be you.
At eighteen years old, I feel sorry for you,
despite the amount of agony you've put me
Because the one who is the giver of your life
criticizes your appearance and your size.
Despite talking, and the gawking,
and all in between,
I know you're just a poor man suffering.
But you're twenty years old, and you should
You're twenty years old,
and you'll never understand this letter.
Fifteen years old, with the mind of a toddler.
Fifteen years old, and though I'm writing this,
I shouldn't even bother.
Fifteen years old, and you're already a professional stalker,
you're toxic, your disgusting, and a suicide blogger.
Fifteen years old, and life is a game, you can ruin people,
play with pe