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Death followed my father home.Death bought a new pair of shoes from my father. It left and hit a woman right in front of my father’s store. It dragged her thirty feet across the parking lot before speeding off, leaving her to bleed in front of Target. It brought my father out of his shoe store to direct traffic around the body, blood trickling against his shoes. It tapped the shoulder of an employee with CPR training. It got blood all over his clothes and sent him home early for the day when there was nothing he could do.
Death followed my father home. It called my father’s cell phone with an invitation he couldn’t turn down. It put a new playlist in my father’s Pandora shuffle that brought him to tears. It picked out the finest formal wear my father owned and laid it on the bed. It cancelled the plans my father had with his grandson.
Death gave my nephew an empty balloon. My father took it away before he could choke. It wheezed a skeletal laugh and patted the boy on the head.
a youth without flowerswake up, dress in your sunday best - that white church dress with the ribbon collar wound tight like a noose around your neck. don't wince when mamma pulls your hair back into twin tails, even though your scalp feels like it'll split open.
get in the back seat. wonder why your uncle is driving the family car down wheezy roads, but only wonder silently. from the back seat you see his fat old stomach wobble as the ford jostles down a gravel road toward church. apologize to mamma when your head smacks into the window - it's your fault, anyway.
smile like your daddy is the preacher, but don't seem too happy. mamma told you that today is a sad day. this thought rattles around in your tiny head; it doesn't make sense. how can the sky be as blue as a bird's belly on a sad day? there aren't many clouds in the sky.
don't fuss when mamma pulls you away from the kids playing ball underneath the big oak tree. she's only doing that to help you - you wouldn't want those pretty black shoes to get scu
Blood Regent: FaithfulThe beads were cold on his fingertips. The old brick of the church smelled of mold; corroded by the decades of winds breezing up from the loch.
“O my God, I am heartfully sorry for having offended thee,” he rolled the bead along the edge of his finger. The words spilled from his lips, memorized but still genuine. He lifted the stick until the candle finally breathed flame.
“- and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishment, but most of all because I have offended Thee my God…”
“Garrett,” a voice called from behind him.
“- Who is all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve…”
“Garrett, haven’t you asked enough?” Garrett felt a hand brush his shoulder. His scar rubbed against the cloth and the feeling was unpleasant.
“That is the point of repentance, Duncan. It will never be enough. Leave me to my prayers, please.”
Garrett watched Duncan’s shadow dance across the walls. He p
Generations - Through the Years1956
“So tell me, do you think I can get away with this on the beach at Nice?”
Helen Forbes looked over at her daughter and said “I don’t know – you don’t think it shows a little too much?”
Katherine smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Nah – I don’t think so,” she said with a smile. The sleeveless white blouse was open at the neck, the lapel folded back, and her red shorts had little pockets at the front. Her outfit was completed with a pair of white heeled sandals.
“I still think it’s a little showy,” Helen said as she went back to packing her daughter’s case. Her mother was wearing a blue blouse, the neck open and the lapels pressed back, and a knee length red cotton skirt that buttoned up the front, with white open toed shoes.
“Come on Mum – what did you wear when you were my age?”
“Short dresses, long socks and pigtails,”
SethEn la oscuridad del origen del mundo definí mi destino
La llave de la verdad yace enterrada en lo profundo de mi alma
Mi sangre inerte clama por el conocimiento perdido.
By the sea shoreThere's a sound like the ocean when you put your ear to a conch shell. Or it's supposed to be the ocean. Lynn's always thought otherwise.
It's the sound of pulling and pushing and sighing and rushing.
Feral, fierce echoes.
There's a bone in your ear that's shaped like a shell. Lynn thinks that's why the conch is so special; it’s a link, a familiarity that grasps as deep as your bones.
She found her conch on a trip to Cedar Key, with Tommy and Lizzie and Helen. They wandered along the sand, skipping in and out of waves, watching the water eat the shore. Lynn liked the way each wave flattened along the beach, grasping greedy at her toes. Tommy and Lizzie whooped war cries at seagulls. Helen chased a hermit crab from the tide line to a tidal pool. Lynn gathered driftwood and seaglass, searching for the perfect natural knicknack. The conch shell was half-buried in seaweed. She washed it, standing calf-deep in the body of the
Wax'n'Wane - PMDu Written AppEXPLORERS GUILD: Team Wax’n’Wane
Date Joined: September 28th 2013
Current Funds: 6 St
Species: Meowth *shiny
Characteristic: Often lost in thought
Gender: Male Age: 21
Strength: 2 Agility: 4
Intelligence: 3 Charisma: 1+1
Total Points Left: 0/10
Type Bonus: Normal -> Charisma
- Default Gloves
---- A pair of brown gloves Prince got once joining the Explorers guild.
- Apricorn Ocarina
---- An ocarina earned during Task #1. Princ
anythingHold on. No, wait, a little to the left. Smile. Moment captured. We'll hate it later. We love it now. You don't use enough exclamation marks when you talk, birdie. I know. I don't like them. You are too close for breathing. Hold my hand when we are not together. Hold my hand through walls and fallen trees. Let me live in everything you see. Let me jump from every object you glance at. Let my name ring out as a ghost when you see someone with hair like mine. Let the memory of my hands graze your mind when you see someone else's. Let nothing else be enough. And my shadow hovers over everything you are. And my voice still makes you jerk your head. And you are my first experiment, and let the sound of typing make you remember me. May the blurred silhouette against the kitchen window at 10pm when the light is long remind you of me. May you miss where your head fell against my collarbone. Scoop up burned charcoal with bare fingers and cry. Dip your guitar string calluses in the ocean and cry
HauntedAs the apartment door shut behind Melliene she turned, looking back at it. It was difficult for her to leave that apartment a second time in such a rush but it had to be done. She knew herself too well to know that if she stayed any longer that things wouldn't have gotten accomplished. A sigh left her lips as she breathed into the white scarf that was drawn over her face, and neck, concealing her identity, as she tore herself from Nallaen's door.
Descending the stairs of the apartment building she passed one fellow, nodding her head in greeting. Dressed as this, hidden, and garbed in white silken robes of the Light she was no longer Melliene. She was Greer Rosach, a woman of the Cathedral. A kind woman. A good woman. Everything Melliene was not. Sometimes she wished for Greer to become a reality for her, to put an end to her hazardous ways. It didn't matter how much she hid behind the mask though. She would always be Melliene. A selfish woman. A woman who knew no bounds. A woman who wo
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More