| Sometimes the words take hold and I cannot stop. My hand moves the pen and I am at its mercy, giving life to the characters that came to me upon a sentence repeated over and over in my head. I scribble furiously, until they are born at 2am and I can finally rest. |
Fire and Glass
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Riptide EpiphanyRiptide EpiphanyRiptide Epiphany
“No … I didn’t say that! … And you believed her, are you stupid?”
I felt the man’s anger rise as he spoke into his cell phone. I couldn’t ignore the cold chill that filled the silence before he inhaled to again breathe fire into the mouthpiece.
“Hey!” the ice glazed his eyes as the flames dropped from his lips. “Listen, you idiot, I told you not to talk to your stupid friends… good for nothing bitch…”
That last bit was a burning cinder; it tumbled from his mouth and fell into t
by ~MercifulBlue
Seize the Day -or not-Seize the Day (or not)Seize the Day -or not-
I woke up tired. My alarm blared from its place across my room and I dragged myself from beneath the covers, stumbling over my books to reach the sacred snooze button. Ten more minutes of slumber would still leave me feeling tired, I would be late for school, but it was all routine. I returned to my bed, flinging the covers over my body once more and trying to find the level of comfort I had enjoyed until that awful whine tore me from my dreams. I think I had been dreaming. Ugh, I couldn’t remember anymore.
Ten more minutes, I lied to myself and buried my head under the pillow. Just ten mo
by ~MercifulBlue
Fire and GlassFireFire and Glass
There once was a man made of fire and he burned. His clothes were the blackest ash, hanging from his hot, red skin. Painful to look at, to touch, to hold.
Yellow-orange flames licked along his finger,
arms,
chest. Blue legs, white-hot feet, and hair of smoke and cinders.
He touched the woman made of glass. She crackled,
cracked
and broke.
His tears fell, steam rose.
There once was a man made of fire and he burned and was gone.
- Caro Sept 11 2008 &nb
by ~MercifulBlue
Intangible CompanionIntangible CompanionIntangible Companion
The rain began lightly, but the dark-grey sky promised it would get worse, and I felt restless. I grabbed my umbrella, rolled up my pant legs and stepped outside the house. The light patter of rain hit my umbrella as I walked through my backyard. Grass stuck to my feet and the rain grew stronger. I could hear the faint sounds of traffic roaring at the front of my house. I faced an open field and trees – none of the neighbours were outside – and the wind and rain, my only witnesses, to the perfect moment of calm and gentle thought.
by ~MercifulBlue
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deviantID
| A writer with a million ideas and not enough hours in the day to explore them all. Words help me see my imagination more clearly. They give form to the ideas in my head; give them colour, texture, form, depth, emotion. Without words, I wouldn't know what I'm dreaming. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Canada
- Interests: Writing, Plague Doctors, Dogs: Bullets & Carnage, Goblins, Wind, 8, Peaceful thoughts
- Favourite movie: Beauty & the Beast
- Favourite band or musician: :Wumpscut:
- Favourite genre of music: Industrial
- Favourite artist: Luis Royo
- Favourite poet or writer: Alfred Noyes for his poem The Highwayman
- Wallpaper of choice: Peaceful nature to offset my mood.
- Personal Quote: Be at Peace Now
- Tools of the Trade: notebook & uniball signo 0.7 gel pen/Computer
- Website: http://kitter-katter.blogspot.com/
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