Princess of Diamonds
The marble floors of the courtroom were shined and polished daily, reflecting like glass to all who stood on their surface. The walls were set with mirrors, painted with harlequin diamonds and reflecting all who stood around her petite throne. Her beautiful empire enchanted all who stepped beneath the vaulted ceilings that glimmered like ice; forever beautiful and deadly sharp.
Her petite exterior and pleasant introductions dropped away quickly, however; her true nature revealed the moment a guest did not bow fast enough or compliment her angelic grace.
Who would compliment a child on her youth and beauty?
A child in
Juxtaposition Tango (Tea)
The bus pulled to a stop beside the curb and she hopped onto the first step, and then stopped. She wobbled a bit, her feet tightly together while she waved her hands about to keep her balance. A plastic wand in one hand and a tight fist with glitter in the other and her mother waited behind her as she hopped up to the second step.
She left her mother behind to deal with the gatekeeper and she moved to the innermost cave of the dragon's throat. She loved travelling by dragon, but it was always difficult to climb up the teeth to get inside. She could feel the eyes of the other passengers on her; a troll with a big, p
King's-Eye-View
Bird King soared high above his kingdom, keen eyes masked in white and black picked out the territories of the different animal clans, and he circled high above, looking for disturbances that might require his guidance.
He saw none.
None large enough to see from the sky.
He circled once more, the sun bearing down upon his black wings, casting shadow over his lime-coloured chest. Nothing big. He angled his descent, swooping low, past the treetops and flicking his tail down sharply so he alit on a weathered, sharp boulder that stood by a clearing.
He tucked his black wings against his body and waited. Something about thi
Riptide Epiphany
No I didnt say that! And you believed her, are you stupid?
I felt the mans anger rise as he spoke into his cell phone. I couldnt 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 the air, burning my ears.
It made me think of he
Seize the Day -or not- by MercifulBlue, literature
Literature
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 couldnt remember anymore.
Ten more minutes, I lied to myself and buried my head under the pillow. Just ten more minutes and then I
Fire
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
Glass
The woman made of glass reflected,
the sky shone blue through her skin.
Green feet, multi-coloured hands and cloudy hair.
She was everything and nothing,
so
Intangible 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.
Unhappy Sheep
I did everything I could to fight it, but, unlike Peter Pan, I grew up. I'm suddenly an adult with debt, responsibility and things that will help me fit in with the other adults. With them we talk about our cars, property and shit that looks pretty but holds no meaning. And the soccer moms with over-priced houses and over-protected children living empty, cookie-cutter lives, look down on me for wanting out.
Adults are sheep, herded into the same greedy-green pasture, fenced in with social obligations rather than wooden barriers.
I want to climb over the fence and find a different pasture.
Public Service
They all arrive the same way; pushing open the heavy doors to the library and marching inside. Sometimes they stop to ask me directions, other times they walk past, knowing exactly where theyre going. From my vantage point I can see them arrive, peeking through the windows on the heavy library doors. I cringe when I see a problematic patron climbing the steps. I know theyll make a beeline straight for my desk, telling me about their problems and expecting to find answers to all their lifes problems at the library. Im trapped at my desk, my glimpse through the window is my only forewarning to an onc
Princess of Diamonds
The marble floors of the courtroom were shined and polished daily, reflecting like glass to all who stood on their surface. The walls were set with mirrors, painted with harlequin diamonds and reflecting all who stood around her petite throne. Her beautiful empire enchanted all who stepped beneath the vaulted ceilings that glimmered like ice; forever beautiful and deadly sharp.
Her petite exterior and pleasant introductions dropped away quickly, however; her true nature revealed the moment a guest did not bow fast enough or compliment her angelic grace.
Who would compliment a child on her youth and beauty?
A child in
Juxtaposition Tango (Tea)
The bus pulled to a stop beside the curb and she hopped onto the first step, and then stopped. She wobbled a bit, her feet tightly together while she waved her hands about to keep her balance. A plastic wand in one hand and a tight fist with glitter in the other and her mother waited behind her as she hopped up to the second step.
She left her mother behind to deal with the gatekeeper and she moved to the innermost cave of the dragon's throat. She loved travelling by dragon, but it was always difficult to climb up the teeth to get inside. She could feel the eyes of the other passengers on her; a troll with a big, p
King's-Eye-View
Bird King soared high above his kingdom, keen eyes masked in white and black picked out the territories of the different animal clans, and he circled high above, looking for disturbances that might require his guidance.
He saw none.
None large enough to see from the sky.
He circled once more, the sun bearing down upon his black wings, casting shadow over his lime-coloured chest. Nothing big. He angled his descent, swooping low, past the treetops and flicking his tail down sharply so he alit on a weathered, sharp boulder that stood by a clearing.
He tucked his black wings against his body and waited. Something about thi
Fire
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
Glass
The woman made of glass reflected,
the sky shone blue through her skin.
Green feet, multi-coloured hands and cloudy hair.
She was everything and nothing,
so
Fire
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
Glass
The woman made of glass reflected,
the sky shone blue through her skin.
Green feet, multi-coloured hands and cloudy hair.
She was everything and nothing,
so
Hey, it's been over a year since I wrote in this. But to be truthful, it feels like my life hasn't changed much since my last post.
I'm still working in the same public library as a public service assistant. I like the work, but I wish there was more of it (part time woes) and I'd love to have more responsibility, but I don't think it's there for me. I've spoken with my supervisor, but she only deals with circulation, and everyone there is part time, so she can't help me much.
Trying to decide between three courses of action:
- find work as a full-time library tech
- take online courses to expand my tech-savvy (as an archivist; special
Well, it seems that, after 2 years of busting my ass, I've come away with a diploma. A diploma that says that I'm a Library and Information Technician. It's that awesome? I'm still having dreams about writing exams, so I don't know when I'll kick into "no more school" mode, but I'm trying to enjoy it as hard and fast as possible. (Cramming relaxation doesn't seem to be working, I need to take this easier!)
Also, something mega-awesome I wanted to share with my friends.
I joined dA sometime in 2007. Shortly thereafter I met with Scuddster whom I got to know as a great artist, and he suggested we collaborate together on making a comic.
My last update was in March, so I figured that the start of August would be a good place to make another.
Sorry for spamming your inboxes with my photography from my trip to El Salvador a couple years ago. I just felt like posting something.
I didn't win the short story contest I'd written about before. They're now printing the stories of the top three winners in the newspaper. I read the third-place entry the other day and, as expected, it's nothing like my style. It encompasses a person's phone conversation and how it changes their life. (It was well written, and more interesting than I'm making it out to be here, but, basically, if