Death is the final partition between lovers, the ultimate barricade, yes? Is it, then, ironic that my husband and I had divorced seventeen years prior to meeting our graves, only to reunite in marriage with the kiss of death? Ironic that I had left him behind for an exponentially wealthier entrepreneur, a man whose hand I took and whose vision I followed? Ironic that I, so fixated on the monetary ambitions and so oblivious to the hellish chasm yawning beneath the tightrope-thin bridge I had so carefully balanced myself upon, would fall at the moment my fingers brushed against the smooth gold of my rich reward? Or is it merely cruel coincidenc
Fourteen years of training could never have prepared me for this. A lifetime of experience in this field would only lend the slightest bit of usefulness in the face of this monstrous disaster, and, as I sat powerlessly before the twin fiends of wind and water, I found myself losing that last thudding hope pulsing beneath my sternum under the roaring black waves.
Silence, rushed on as though by the wings of owls, fled to my ears and throat, lovingly sweeping aside the loose, mundane air trapped in my lungs. Glimmering images flashed across my vision, vaguely reminding me of high-ceilinged churches and delicate paper lanterns.
Pitch wings ush
Sugar and spice
and everything nice;
That's what little girls are made of.
They sit without noise
with their dollies and toys
look at them, the little doves.
Sugar and spice
Wait 'till they get a slice
of just what the real world is made of.
They'll sit without noise
with their dresses and boys
So proud of what we've done.
I remember a certain moon
Cobalt and glimm'ring in full bloom
I'll catch him someday soon.
I'll lasso him 'round the waist
I'll take him to the lands of lace
Forever trapped and chaste.
Can you see him flying over
as she's sinking ever lower
Is she fleeing the moon?
Promise you'll catch him someday soon.
She was purely gold and fire
Caught and addicted to the piper
She lost her desire.
Can you see him flying lower
As she's running on and over?
She is fleeing the moon.
I wonder what would happen if
she could steal his tune.
Red and white and black and blue,
Falling leaves with different hues;
Revelation, broken amnesty,
Life in the heart of things;
Tell me,
Where have we gone?
Has the road been ravaged, and
the leaves torn like cloth?
Free me from my prison,
my missing hands, my eyes;
Listen.
In the silence,
feel the grained sand;
watch me cry and kiss your hand.
It is lost.
Let the war pass over,
Let this life pass me by,
And cast me into the nothingness;
Leave me behind.
Blue and black and white and red,
Velvet things left unsaid;
Tender-soft, frozen kindness,
A drought in man's blindness,
Tell me,
Where has he gone?
She grinned and twirled.
In that moment, hundreds of glimmering butterflies fluttered into life around her and soared into a gleaming twister, each wing beating precisely at the same time, creating a soft thud sound each time they pushed against the air.
The beat became rhythmic.
She smiled widely a gorgeous smile and threw her arms into the air, eyes closed with sheer joy. Her light golden hair swirled around her as though she were underwater. The whole scene was surreal underneath the glowing light of the night sky; I could barely breathe. It was as though the sun had come to life.
Her twirling, dancing form was encircl
"More wine, madame?"
"Yes, please," I said, and watched as the waiter gracefully poured a stream of rich red liquid into the delicate glass. "That's perfect, thank you."
"My pleasure," he replied, his thick French accent smoothing the consonants of the word. He didn't spill a drop of the fragrant drink on his white gloves as he tilted the bottle upwards to stop the flow. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, I'm all right."
"I'll be back in about ten minutes to take your order," he said, and even bowed before walking off to attend to the other customers.
This restaurant is really nice, I thought. Over the quiet mumble of t
She ran.
The sidewalks disappeared into a blur beneath her feet. Tears flew down in her face in rivulets, and her eyes had long before acquired the clear, glassy look to them.
Run, run away from the streets...
"Jessa!"
Leave this world behind, escape my life...
She sprinted past the neighborhood's entrance and kept going round the corner, running as fast as she could down the sidewalk and coming upon the massive expanse that was the highway.
"Jessa, come back!"
"Get away!" she screamed shrilly. A rush of air from a passing car pressed against her body, and her stomach involuntarily clenched. A trickling, panicky sensation wormed
Death is the final partition between lovers, the ultimate barricade, yes? Is it, then, ironic that my husband and I had divorced seventeen years prior to meeting our graves, only to reunite in marriage with the kiss of death? Ironic that I had left him behind for an exponentially wealthier entrepreneur, a man whose hand I took and whose vision I followed? Ironic that I, so fixated on the monetary ambitions and so oblivious to the hellish chasm yawning beneath the tightrope-thin bridge I had so carefully balanced myself upon, would fall at the moment my fingers brushed against the smooth gold of my rich reward? Or is it merely cruel coincidenc
Fourteen years of training could never have prepared me for this. A lifetime of experience in this field would only lend the slightest bit of usefulness in the face of this monstrous disaster, and, as I sat powerlessly before the twin fiends of wind and water, I found myself losing that last thudding hope pulsing beneath my sternum under the roaring black waves.
Silence, rushed on as though by the wings of owls, fled to my ears and throat, lovingly sweeping aside the loose, mundane air trapped in my lungs. Glimmering images flashed across my vision, vaguely reminding me of high-ceilinged churches and delicate paper lanterns.
Pitch wings ush
Sugar and spice
and everything nice;
That's what little girls are made of.
They sit without noise
with their dollies and toys
look at them, the little doves.
Sugar and spice
Wait 'till they get a slice
of just what the real world is made of.
They'll sit without noise
with their dresses and boys
So proud of what we've done.
I remember a certain moon
Cobalt and glimm'ring in full bloom
I'll catch him someday soon.
I'll lasso him 'round the waist
I'll take him to the lands of lace
Forever trapped and chaste.
Can you see him flying over
as she's sinking ever lower
Is she fleeing the moon?
Promise you'll catch him someday soon.
She was purely gold and fire
Caught and addicted to the piper
She lost her desire.
Can you see him flying lower
As she's running on and over?
She is fleeing the moon.
I wonder what would happen if
she could steal his tune.
Red and white and black and blue,
Falling leaves with different hues;
Revelation, broken amnesty,
Life in the heart of things;
Tell me,
Where have we gone?
Has the road been ravaged, and
the leaves torn like cloth?
Free me from my prison,
my missing hands, my eyes;
Listen.
In the silence,
feel the grained sand;
watch me cry and kiss your hand.
It is lost.
Let the war pass over,
Let this life pass me by,
And cast me into the nothingness;
Leave me behind.
Blue and black and white and red,
Velvet things left unsaid;
Tender-soft, frozen kindness,
A drought in man's blindness,
Tell me,
Where has he gone?
She grinned and twirled.
In that moment, hundreds of glimmering butterflies fluttered into life around her and soared into a gleaming twister, each wing beating precisely at the same time, creating a soft thud sound each time they pushed against the air.
The beat became rhythmic.
She smiled widely a gorgeous smile and threw her arms into the air, eyes closed with sheer joy. Her light golden hair swirled around her as though she were underwater. The whole scene was surreal underneath the glowing light of the night sky; I could barely breathe. It was as though the sun had come to life.
Her twirling, dancing form was encircl
"More wine, madame?"
"Yes, please," I said, and watched as the waiter gracefully poured a stream of rich red liquid into the delicate glass. "That's perfect, thank you."
"My pleasure," he replied, his thick French accent smoothing the consonants of the word. He didn't spill a drop of the fragrant drink on his white gloves as he tilted the bottle upwards to stop the flow. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, I'm all right."
"I'll be back in about ten minutes to take your order," he said, and even bowed before walking off to attend to the other customers.
This restaurant is really nice, I thought. Over the quiet mumble of t
She ran.
The sidewalks disappeared into a blur beneath her feet. Tears flew down in her face in rivulets, and her eyes had long before acquired the clear, glassy look to them.
Run, run away from the streets...
"Jessa!"
Leave this world behind, escape my life...
She sprinted past the neighborhood's entrance and kept going round the corner, running as fast as she could down the sidewalk and coming upon the massive expanse that was the highway.
"Jessa, come back!"
"Get away!" she screamed shrilly. A rush of air from a passing car pressed against her body, and her stomach involuntarily clenched. A trickling, panicky sensation wormed
It's great to see you! Welcome to my little page! To the top-left you'll see some little scribbles of mine that I like to call "story shots" (I've NEVER called them that before), and maybe a poem or two. I dunno. I love playing around with imagery and shoving people in media res, so if you're that kind of person who likes to be hurled into the action of the story, I say "Welcome!" for a second time. :D
Below my Deviations box you'll see my favorites. They're the main reason why I go on here - to collect pictures that I like and just look through them in my free time. What a life, am I right? xD Sometimes I'll get stuck on a theme and look exclusively for that kind of picture, so don't be surprised to see a lot of the same thing! But it would mean a lot to check out some of the stuff I have in there - in my opinion, it's artistic gold!
Anyway, I have a blank Word document to contemplate. ;) Feel free to leave a comment below, or flit around to your heart's desire! :D
deviantWEAR sizing preference: I'm pretty... twiglike. Favourite style of art: Everything. Everything. Operating System: Windows 7! Whoo! MP3 player of choice: iPod Nano, 3rd Gen. That's right. Shell of choice: Conch :) Wallpaper of choice: Preferably the kind that doesn't peel. Skin of choice: Silky smooth. Favourite cartoon character: Beast Boy, probably.