Beyond Blood- Chapter ThreeGoals of a Past FighterBeyond Blood- Chapter Three
Sun rays finally stopped knocking at the doors of the old church and faded away to their several-hour graves below the horizon. As I moved around the church, I carefully listened for any signs of my clan waking. However, nothing seemed to be breaking from the norm; no one would get up for at least another half an hour, when the sky had grown even darker. It was the ideal situation. I did not want any members of my clan bothering me about the meeting with Castor. A few of them would ramble about things, and I was not in the listening mood. With them all still sleeping, I had the chance to leave withou
Beyond Blood- Chapter TwoVampires and HumansBeyond Blood- Chapter Two
Feet pounding against the barren field, I forced myself into a sprint. Patience was certainly not one of my virtues, and after having passed the landmark signaling my home—a rather large rock with the most peculiar shape—I was even more desperate to get back.
Time never favored my kind, so I was certainly not going to waste the little bit of wealth it threw my way. Sure, it had not been necessary to build that dog a grave, and I would have been back all ready, but that was a bit cold. Well, maybe it was not so much cold-hearted as it was a bit of planning on my part. Dead things have a r
The ColdWhite—as I strained my eyes to see some hint of the horizon beyond the searing white, but it was lost. Nothing lay beyond the sheet of sharp snowflakes. My eyes could not tell where the clouded white sky and the icy cold cover of snow met. Everything melded together under the blinding absence of color. The wind tore across the powdered tundra, kicking up the little, icy knives and thrusting them into my bear arms; where the snow had yet to pass through my shirt and pants, the wind found no difficultly. The very essence of the air had the same bite as the ever-falling snow. With each breath getting harder and more painful toThe Cold
What Good are WordsEyes are given rather amazing powers in text. They can burn, bore, and kill without doing anything but looking. Sometimes I imagine those words trailing behind my eyes. Day after day I wonder if one of those words might come out, shoving their ABCs through the juicy tissue. If I get angry enough and let the fire burn within, will those words burn to ash and blow away into action? Undeterred by 16 days—oh, how the tallies grow—of prodding the fire and watching the words sit; I attempt it time and time again. I watch those brittle, colorless strands of hair on the back of your head and let the rotting notes of your voice bWhat Good are Words
by *trenchmaker
by =wazabees
What good insults...
Joy
Let me know what you've got!
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Sometimes, I'd wonder if they'd sew you a new heart. But your philosophy had been like one of an alcoholic. They don't give those new ones, because they'll go into decay all over again.
- read more in my gallery
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"Those little tendrils of moist and dying life would only fall to the floor when the woman’s amusement had peaked, only to be forgotten in the wake of another victim." ~ Beloved Atrocity- The Academy
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"It has been found again! What? Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun." - Arthur Rimbaud
last.fm
Club Photo
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"Those little tendrils of moist and dying life would only fall to the floor when the woman’s amusement had peaked, only to be forgotten in the wake of another victim." ~ Beloved Atrocity- The Academy
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undisguised ploy to cause a look at something I drew
Favors returned, dreams deferred. And so should you.
be original; edit stock. save me from ulcers.
And, once again, thank you
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"Those little tendrils of moist and dying life would only fall to the floor when the woman’s amusement had peaked, only to be forgotten in the wake of another victim." ~ Beloved Atrocity- The Academy
--
undisguised ploy to cause a look at something I drew
Favors returned, dreams deferred. And so should you.
be original; edit stock. save me from ulcers.
--
"It has been found again! What? Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun." - Arthur Rimbaud
last.fm
Club Photo
--
"Those little tendrils of moist and dying life would only fall to the floor when the woman’s amusement had peaked, only to be forgotten in the wake of another victim." ~ Beloved Atrocity- The Academy
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