She sighed as she surveyed the front lawn. So this is how it was, after so many years. Abandoned, left to rot, but it didn't, not really. There wasn't much to rot, but there was a lot to lose. Color, for instance. Everything was grey in her eyes now. She could barely remember, and she rarely wanted to. But now, just once, she'd like to see her childhood home in it's full glory again. She couldn't of course.
Her eyes flickered down to the once silver key she held in her hand. Memories reflected in it's dark shine, running through the door to catch the ice cream truck, kicking off her snow boots with her sister, trying, and failing, to catch f
We were exactly the same by FarCryDreamer, literature
Literature
We were exactly the same
We were entirely different. The same sky-blue lakes rested in our eyes. The same golden sand framed our faces. We even stood equally, like a two-sided mirror had been placed between us. We were exactly the same, but only on the outside. He laughed when I didn't understand, he cried when I saw no reason, and he ran when I was long since tired. We'd had the perfect likeness since birth, or so they said. Twins on the outside, we couldn't have been more of a contradiction to our reflections.
Paradise of the Mind by HeadmistressMercedes, literature
Literature
Paradise of the Mind
The sun-baked grass is warm beneath my back. The scent of clover and buttercups tinges the air, enveloping me in a delicate, lacy wrap, the kind of perfume that gods must favour. My eyes are closed, but there is no black here...I see nothing but pure, golden light behind my eyelids, the sun begging me to find comfort in its hot, healing rays.
I open my eyes, the colour of the sea during a storm, to the skies above. Never has there been a blue so regal. Never have the clouds been washed so white, so puffy and so proud of themselves in their perfection. Yet, despite these bleached cotton patches on the tapestry above, the sun never dulls. Its
I look at her
She looks at me
An expression of pure, utter glee
And asks me what my paradise is
Her head tilts along with mine
Her expression unchanged
A sister estranged
That asks me what my paradise is
I want to get to know you
For what kind of chain you are a link
Before you care what others think
You should know what your paradise is
The old spider in the morning dew
The intangible web connecting us all
Thunderstorms in the middle of fall
Are all parts of my paradise
The sound of rain on my windowpane
The sound of music and silence and wind
The night's shadowy-blueish tint
Are all parts of my paradise
The scent of old
The Ghost of a Former Self by HeadmistressMercedes, literature
Literature
The Ghost of a Former Self
Darling, where did we fall?
When was it over?
My suitcase smells musty. Then again, it's been tucked away in the attic, unused and un-thought of. It was one of those things that was purchased for me, before I could even stand on my own two feet...a case bought for a day that I was never told about, and for which I could never truly prepare.
I fold my possessions into tiny cubes; all my thoughts, all my dreams, all my childish games of old are tucked into the corners of this dusty, grimy case, and I know they will never unfold in quite the same way. My carefree summer days, running about barefoot in the cool grass...I put those days in this
We were sitting in a tree
On the first day of spring,
No one was around,
There was only you and me.
I sat on the bottom branch,
Dangling my little feet
So far above the ground.
You wanted to climb higher,
So I stood carefully,
But didn't follow you.
I could tell
From the way you smiled,
That you wanted me
To climb out on a limb,
But I refused.
I can't do that anymore.
I've done that once before,
But branches wore too thin,
And the one I climbed with then
Didn't reach my hand
To catch me when
The little tree-fingers snapped
And I plummeted to
The waiting earth below.
So, I will stay right here,
Holding on to the tree
Those Lightning Eyes- A Short Story by GothKoala439
Those lightning eyes.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up at the thought of them skidding over my face in a way I had never, ever thought possible. I feel so vulnerable, standing in front of you. It's like your glare seeps through my pores and into my heart, cradling it in a way both loving, yet so very terrifying my blood runs cold at the very thought.
I've never felt so exposed.
Those lightning eyes.
They make my skin tingle and my eyes crawl and my tongue get so twisted I mix up words. They pierce me so that I blush and avert my own, unwilling and unable to meet you
I.
It is not written in the soft fingerprints of couples or rings and kisses
Falling apart and together as often as tide comes out and in
It is written in wagging tails and the whisper of warm breath on your neck
And it is told of in an enchantment that only we know
It is not found in the places you enter with lust and exit with guilt
But in the waking memories of lost voices and the warm nuzzle of a dawn hoof beat
II.
It is not logical or rational
It is not of the mind or the body
But the heart
And the heart is a four chambered place
III.
One is for family and the friends that should be a part of it
Another is for the hope that