Crimson Vengeance for CreepieMonetThe light browns of the Morrocan village once stirred the villagers' hearts; they loved their small town, they loved knowing everyone who lived nearby, but that had all changed
One night was all it took to rip out the peace and replace it with terror; one night of bloodlust flowing through the town; grown men were reduced to their knees; respected elders were reduced to the common rabble. Everyone in Asilah fell to the very ground they made their livelihoods on, and all because one man chose one town to run down.
Children and elderly rushed about the streets, seeking hiding places. Women and wives carried buckets of water to burning huts. Grown men planned an offensive, but nothing they did would work; they faced a mad man; a man who had lost all hope for his world, and instead turned to murder; he turned to rape. Any young girl that crossed his path became violated; a baker's daughter fell to her knees in front of the man; her hair a mess and her face splattered faintly in blood
Commission: Spoils of a Treasure HunterThe pizzeria had the finest take on synthesising the perfect Supreme pizza; the capsicum sat atop a bed of thinly sliced ham, and the pineapple rested in amongst the olive fragments. Øyvind Herstad considered it a marvelous indulgence; the perfect requisite for his next great treasure hunt with his delectably gorgeous companions Kaitlyn and Kara Walker.
"Ah yes girls" He spoke intelligently, although not so much the words, as the way he portrayed them across the thin, cool air "Another heist completed, another trophy to add to your walls. It is time however, for us to begin again. I've heard rumour of a treasure crypt in Greece; rumours tell of great fortune befitting a conquering knight. This is where we will head to next."
Kara smiled and glanced around the room, her long brown and white striped hair flowing over her shoulders. The drink in her hand remained still and unnerved as she examined the pizzeria.
"I've heard of this crypt" she spoke quietly, "I've heard t
The Truth Is Hard"Like a rock" she said,
Eyes glinting in the sun,
Shining in their purity,
Blink; then continue;
"Like a brick; like a bone,
Like the urge of a soldier,
trying to go home".
"Like the pain of what was,
And what is still to come"
In grief, she bowed her head;
With grief she became numb.
"You see, I lost the one I loved;
I don't know what to do,
I told him that I would change,
He said "It's me, it isn't you."
"Yet overtime I came to learn,
That what he said was false"
With tears she fell onto the ground,
Filled with dread and dark remorse.
"I would rather have lived with his lies,
Than to know what I learned today,
Because "It's not you" was a lie,
Just like my "I'm okay"".
"The truth is hard" I said to her,
And reassured her thus;
"But although he didn't count on it,
We're not you, we're us"
"We'll stick together; I'll help you through,
Get you back onto your feet;
You're not a victim; you're victorious,
And he, we will defeat."
Waiting Silently in a Tattered Rocking ChairSilence.
She sat in complete silence.
Outside the dull, grey walls of her twelfth-story apartment, the world moved endlessly, noisily.
But to her, there was silence. Complete silence.
A ceiling fan rotated slowly above her; a fly lay dead on the window sill beside her; the festering corpse of a mouse lay putridly on the carpet in the corner of the hot, humid room across from her.
Yet, she sat in silence.
The window was home to a single potted plant; a small green sapling growing hesitantly out into the ever-putrid air of the apartment. It's dish had long-since cracked in the heat, and rot where the water leaks through had slowly begun to develop.
A child's watering can, no bigger than her palm, rested - a faded red - on a table beside the window. The plastic bubbled in the heat; large bulbous growths protruded from its surface.
The spout rarely let out more than a few drops nowadays.
Back in its days - back when old Mrs. Adalai was young - the pot plant was large and vibrant. The apart
Odyssey into 2012 Chapter 1The glare of the first gate blinds her momentarily; her memories flooded with a luminescence overpowering. She can't remember who she is, or why she's here.
She is oblivious to herself and the world around her; all she knows is the gate and the surrounding darkness. Hesitantly, she steps through, and is blinded again by a bright white glare.
Slowly the glare dies down as her eyes adjust. She can see clearly now; both the gate and her memory. She had traveled a long way to be here, to open this gate. She had travelled across the galaxy in the blink of an eye, she had opened a portal through time and space, and she had climbed through it. A portal in her mind, and it was such a portal that she could grant herself this omnipresence.
Her people were the Skylarks, and they knew her as a Gatekeeper; they recognised her unique abilities as mirroring those of the ancients. She was the remnant of a past long forgotten
She arrived in a city overrun by smog and giant grey buildings. "Is thi
Almost in ComatoseYou wake.
Head swimming, eyes glazed over,
Throat red and swollen.
You throw a leg,
Misjudging the distance,
Between bed and floor.
Heavily onto the tatty carpet,
Unfocused eyes misguiding you.
Your body folds upwards,
Hands and feet together,
Ass in the air.
You can't get a grip,
You fall again.
This time you stay there,
You poor, poor baby.
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-
could only hurt
anyone who got
she held what
Stripping MeYou may take what you want from me,
Be it my pride or dignity.
You may throw insults at me,
And burn the shredded pieces of my sanity.
You may belittle me, as much as you want,
If only to make your meager life worth living.
But even if you do all that...
No one will protect you when I pull you into the dark.
No one will try to search for you, as my leather ropes tie you down.
No one will hear your screams as metallic screws drive into your face,
Etching an eternal smile, since you'll never leave this place...
"Now then, my dear sweet James, shall we play our favourite game?"
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.
I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:
"What is it that you find life to be worth living?"
Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?
To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.
Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,
Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,
And yet you lie awake.
Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...
Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.
Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,
And genuinely fear for your safety?
Now, if you were me that you had asked my dear,
I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.
At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.
That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...
But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
it is dark, unfamiliar,
but your fingers seek out his,
and you know then
that you are at home
in his harmony
even if just
he's incendiary, sure.
a veritable (volatile)
molotov cocktail of
watch as he emerges,
ashen-limbed from a cocoon of you
to entwine with the threads
that hold you sane.
want nothing more than
to hiss and steam;
than to cool
in your stillness
redolent of broken-record risk-
taking chances until
there's nothing left
but scratches and
glitches in the wordwork
i mean woodwork,
i mean, skin.
but oh god, he loves you
just like this,
this is a choice:
you may destroy him,
extinguish his flames
and half-bury him in
the ashy remnants
of his own conflagration
but it's an impotent power
that is granted,
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,
but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your soul
and if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybars
in this old and rusted park
you can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to you
if i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,
tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love you
and i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,
because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my life
or what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.