Valentine'sFrom Morning's first light to Dusk
In every conceivable way
I really hope that you have
A Happy Valentine's Day
SecretsI'm hiding a secret,
Way down inside.
I'm hiding a secret,
Drowning under the tide.
My secret has weight.
It's crushing me now.
My secret has weight,
A heart-wrenching vow.
It's a horrible secret,
I say with a sigh.
It's a horrible secret,
Alive till I die.
My secret never leaves.
The scars always remain.
My secret never leaves,
A dull throbbing pain.
I'm hiding a secret,
And I'll never let go.
I'm hiding a secret,
That you'll never know.
The Chynre and the (not so) HumanBefore you read
Let me start by saying if you are a person who likes the world they live in, stop now. If you like feeling safe and secure in the knowledge that you know what things are and how they operate, stop now. Because if you read on, you will find the world you know doesn’t exist. It’s an inconsequential section in a much larger scheme. That’s not even half of it. My world is but a fraction, and your world… it’s even smaller than mine. So, what do you say? Are you brave enough to keep reading, or will you chicken out as well?
Rumbles and crashes came from outside, rocks sliding and getting pulverized. Not what I like to hear in the morning. “What are they doing out there? Creating another portal to Hell?” I woke, as cheerful as ever on that Saturday, wanting nothing more than to rip out someone’s throat.
“Morning,” I heard her soft British accent that refused to fade, and uncove
If for only this momentTime ticked on, second by second. It refused to obey her wishes. Worry scratched the recesses of her skull. Twenty minutes… twenty minutes and you’ll be alone. Shut up. She typed out a response. Send. Nineteen minutes… Shut up. Her eyes darted across the page, reading as quickly as she could. Her fingers flew across the keys, typing out her words. Send. 18 minutes- SHUT UP! Her glass hit the wall and shattered in a loud crack. Shut up…
She took a breath and read the response… His responses seemed to be faster. And she typed them just as fast. Hoping time would stop. She replied and he replied and time continued to tick by. She looked at the clock…
She typed a question. Simple yet complex. “Are you going to leave?”
Time went in slow motion as he started typing. When she wanted it to go faster, it went slower, when she wanted to go slower it went faster. Thirty seconds to leaving, she finally got his reply.
MatildaWhen Matilda was young she had known a boy. His name was Garran. They were born two towns apart in the same year. But they were destined to meet. Matilda was the daughter of a minor lord while Garran was the horse groomer’s son. Polar opposites, but that was what had sparked their friendship in the first place. Matilda had been out riding when her horse had taken ill. She immediately took him home where she had found the intriguing apprentice. She had spent every moment not in a class with her horse and, despite her father’s protests, slept with Antoinette every night. Garran had been admiring Matilda’s loyalty to her horse. He stopped seeing her as a spoiled lady and more of just a girl who loved horses as much as him. In the beginning of their friendship it helped to think of her this way. It allowed him to talk with her and argue with her without fear of being reprimanded for simply expressing his opinion. Every day they would have races or contests and after each
The Snap of His FingersHer screams were abruptly cut off. I cowered behind the fabric bags of grain on the bottom shelf of the pantry. My mind racing, my heart pumping, my breath ragged, I listened in terror as the footsteps drew nearer. I had gotten out before it saw me. Maybe it would leave, thinking the witnesses all dead. When the footsteps stopped I saw it's shadow at the door. I held in all air, stopped all movement. Despite having lost faith in the Gods, I prayed to them, beseeching their mercy, begging for their help. As the door creaked open, I realized it was all in vain. I peered between the slatted wood shelves and found the grotesque being before me that I had once called friend. It's face was a twisted mockery of the once beautiful girl I knew. My hand covered my mouth to hold back the scream I could feel coming to my throat. The creature observed the scene before it with an apathy that could not be faked and I envied it for the slightest moment. How wonderful to be able to calm one's nerves wi
Broken Hearts and Healing HandsHow long had it been? Benjeram sighed and pulled his pack higher on his shoulder. Arienti had broken his heart and killed someone within the same twenty-four hours. Maybe the worst thing he had done in that time, not thanked her for saving his life. She must have arrived back at his tent by now and found it empty, that is, if she hadn’t stayed with Quinn. He stopped his laugh short. What had he done wrong? Gone on a mission? Followed orders? He’d already given over a decade of his life to those Rats, and what had it gotten him? Kidnapped, shot, betrayed, hurt. He had lost a friend he considered family to death, and now the girl he loved to a fellow Rat. It was a band of thieves, he shouldn’t have been surprised.
He stopped at a horse’s trough for some water to combat the heat that seemed to rise higher by the minute. He’d been walking for days, hitching rides when he could, getting as far from California as he could. A horse’s trough was a very good
Magic's FlowerAlice had lived twenty four years without knowing where her fascination with lilies had come from. Her adoptive parents never cared for them, nor her friends, nor anyone she had known. They would remark on their beauty, or perhaps the fragrance, but never had she met someone as in love with them as she. They were only flowers after all. "So why," she would ask herself, "am I so attracted to them?"
Throughout her life she had learned many secrets. Her origins, abilities, species. All were fantastical and abnormal. However, there was still something about lilies that intrigued her to no end. She sighed and sat in the small garden. Something must be wrong with her. She idly stroked the nearest flower, not giving it much attention.
The petals felt soft and smooth against her skin. She closed her eyes and imagined clothes made of those petals wrapping around her, covering her in their velvet fabric. She brushed her hand against the anther accidentally coating her fingers in pollen. The fine