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The Musings of a Writer The pen hovered over a simple sheet of paper, the only marks on it being red and blue lines meant to keep foreign markings from shifting off their destined course. Yet the lines felt as if they had no purpose on this night because there were no dark markings to guide towards a path that would lead to so many possibilities. The truth, however, was more cruel than what an innocent bystander would have thought if they were passing by the coverless windows and, by chance, looked into the darkened room with only a single candle burning, giving little light for the person hidden in shadow that appeared to be leaning over a simple desk covered by pages of unused paper, a single pen with ink like the night sky in their hand. The very page set before the shadowed figure was the very same page that was void of any sign of use for several months. This simple yet terrible fact was the silver pendulum swinging over the writer’s head like th
Realization Dreams are all he has of her now. Dreams, and his memories. It may not seem like much to many, but to him, it was everything.
Even when he dreams he can still see strands of crushed chestnut covering her face like a bridal veil, hiding her wonderfully maddening smile. Eyes crafted from the purest amazonite looked upon him with such clarity that he was sure she was right beside him, studying him as if he were the formula and the answer to perfection, committing every detail to memory. If only such moments were possible. How could anyone have the strength of will to resist those hauntingly beautiful eyes? How could any man living or dead not immediately feel as if an angel had descended from heaven upon witnessing such perfection?
Even her name was a petal on his lips, soft and gentle like the blossom of a rose.
So much time has passed since he last saw
The Cowboy in the Ballroom "No...no...definitely not that one...no...not a chance. C'mon, isn't there anything in here that will work?"
With clothes strewn all over her room and a violet colored piece of fabric on her head, a dark-haired young girl of eighteen groans in irritation at the few articles of clothing she hasn't looked through yet, her inspiration draining with each outfit she tossed.
While dressing up for a party on Halloween night may seem like fun to most teenagers, for Sarah Williams it brought back a few too many memories that, after three years, she had expected to fade away until she was absolutely certain it was all a dream. It didn't help matters that Toby had dreams of his own, most of them involving a certain place and a certain person that he loved to tell her about, and the party she was going to was a masquerade.
Still, since Toby was going to be trick-or-treating with D
Sadistic MuseWill you help me with this part?
Can't you give me some peace?
Can't I be myself and not who you want me to be?
All that I ask of her is a hand to help me walk through the labyrinth of my mind
But she instead dances through it while I am trapped in a dead end of my own making.
Into Her Realm Alone and unknown, lost and afraid. That was how he felt as he was running through the woods, a forest of shadows and nightmares. Eyes of hidden beasts glowed as gold as the harvest moon and red as blood, watching the man in torn rags stolen from a dead vagabond.
He could feel their starving eyes on his bleeding wounds as the life slowly poured out from his broken flesh. Time passed slowly through his fingers as his end slowly began to show its dark and merciless face. There was no hope for him as Fate itself seemed to wish him to suffer slowly before he met his Maker.
His foot met with an exposed root of an ancient tree, allowing his face to fall into a lake of moss and regret. Weeds of water wrapped themselves around his exposed and bleeding limbs as he struggled to reach the surface. His movements only seemed to tighten the grip of his prison until he finally surrendered.
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More