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The Guardians - Ch. 7 Chapter 7
"We managed to get them but we " The woman's low voice trailed in and out as Julian wavered on borderline consciousness. The pain he felt in his body was agonizing, as if fire was inside his veins and his neck was still throbbing from the woman biting him.
"This one is past the ." A man's voice trailed off this time as Julian looked around, everything a blur. He had no idea how much time had passed, where he was, or who was talking. All he knew was that he was in pain and it was showing no signs off stopping. If anything, it was getting worse.
"H-help," he finally croaked out. It took all the strength he had just to say that whisper of a word and he paid for it with his throat instantly burning. He gasped and he bit dow
Shattered - Excerpt 1Shattered
"Victor!" Susan's voice trembled as she called out her son's name, kneeling down beside her daughter who'd just fallen down the stairs. She lay there, not moving, and Susan was too scared to move her without help from her son. Victor, a tall thin man in his early twenty's came twisting around the corner with his fiancé, Malory. Malory gasped, as she looked at her soon to be sister-in-law's body look similar to that of a rag doll. Her legs were askew, neck twisted, mouth hanging open.
"Malory," began Victor, jumping into action as he grabbed a blanket from the closet beneath the stairs and slowly wrapped it around his little sister, preparing to lift and cradle her. "Go get the car! We need to get her to the hospital now!"
"Mhm," Malory nodded, rushing out of the fr
Finite - Excerpt 1Finite
"Watch where you're going, prick!"
James continued to speed through the traffic, narrowly avoiding a collision with yet another driver who promptly insulted him on his reckless driving. It was only a five minute stretch from the firm he worked at to the café he was going to before heading home but he'd already managed to run two red lights, dodge four collisions, and receive nine insults. A slow day considering he'd typically have twice that by this point.
"Idiot," mumbled James, not letting his foot up off the gas as he turned onto another street, tires screeching. He continued down the street, looking for a spot along the curb to pull into. The only one free had another driver about to begin backing up to make an attempt at parallel parking. Without a ounce of hesitation, he swerved hi
The Guardians - Ch. 6The Guardians
"Planning to go somewhere?" Julian turned around, now face to face with a woman who, despite her beauty, managed to send chills down his spine. Her hair was dark red, trailing down just past her shoulders, and her eyes were so dark that they seem almost empty.
"What do you have there Melanie," asked the elder of the guys, pulling his head back slightly, facing upwards into the night air with his eyes closed.
"Just a child," responded the woman in another seductive voice. Julian tried to back away from her but she reached out and grabbed his wrist. He winced as her fingers dug into his skin in a grip much tighter than he was expecting. She turned him around, forcing him to face the other two while she brought her head closer to
The Guardians - Ch. 5The Guardians
"I wonder if it will be possible to just get her a replica." Julian sighed, head hanging at this point. He'd retraced their steps all the way back to the restaurant they'd eaten at that night without any signs of success. He trudged up the steps, the parking lot empty, only a few lights still shining inside. He figured it was locked but he pulled on the door handle anyway. When it didn't budge he began walking away, trying to look on the ground again.
"Need something?" Julian turned around as his foot reached the last step and saw a young man with a broom in one hand holding the glass door slightly ajar. He was as tall as Julian with short, straight black hair and dark brown eyes. It was obvious that he was wearing the uniform of the establishment and, after a few more seconds, Julian recognized him as their server.
The Guardians - Ch. 4The Guardians
"Funnel cake, you're my tummy's desire. Funnel cake, you lift my soul higher." Dawn continued singing in between bites as Julian and K.B. smiled at her musically inclined inner child.
"What are you two goons smirking at," she said, nabbing the last piece of the funnel cake they were sharing and quickly putting it in her mouth.
"Oh nothing," said K.B., lifting a napkin to dab his lips for any remains. "It's just that there's a young woman in front of me who is so obsessed with such an unhealthy desert that she always sings about it while she eats it."
"Funnel cakes are not unhealthy. You can get them with fruit or a light sprinkle of sugar or-"
Change this lifeHiding in the shadows
Resisting in secrecy
Trying to find a way
To change this life of misery
The future is unknown
The past is to forget
The present is dull and boring
Is this what life has to offer?
I want to change
And I keep trying
Only to fail miserabily
Every single time
eight ways you've made me small1. I wish
this was for you.
2. my journal pages - the
brown one with all our monologues -
were jarred with hollow vows of
last poems of
letting you slip into a coma
of bad memories, watching you
fall to your death off
a cascading cliff of disease
and dis ease.
it was never
easy for me
3. there's a reason I ask
whether you're grey
(dark white, elusively black, in between)
or blue (behind the clouds, under wave-foam,
whateverthefuck runs through the back of my
palms); I'd rather have
than the arms
that once held you half-
heartedly. you had always been
my harmony and I
would have killed
to have been yours.
4. it could never have been just me, the way
it could never have been just
5. disasters are not beautiful,
but how is it that you
managed to make my inner linings
converge into bows
and explode into wings the very
night you decided to rebuild your walls
to a lower height?
6. I wish
diaryi thinned recall,
strangled memory until she screamed black
or blue, strung her source of voice along
the willowed incline of vein to wrist and down
let the curl thirstily imply
just how cut it is to pain in numbers:
one scar for extravagant wine dates, three
for the number of times we fucked crying,
eight for forgotten promises of ever after
i heard a sordid song in your tallied matchstick
bones, victorian in beauty & proper repression
of the bloody details like a bruise we push beneath
our hollow skin with dirty fingernails
see, the past is not a headless infant with knives for
playful fingers, though it is not to say
that cribs or birdcages hold anything more than
what we leave them to engulf
i swallowed you whole, ocean— basked by the enchantments
of soft-spoken life, bathed by neurotic erosion.
they taught me that the cleansing of your body now
fades the transient you of yesteryear, speak in familiar tongue:
bathroom stall mirages of rounds, clocks, convey
Whenever I hurt myselfI have a feeling
Someone is watching
So I look around
But there's no one to be found
ExpirationWith you I always feel like I’m
to break in the wrong size of shoes.
Sometimes I sit and stew
over how you’re seventeen and
you think I’m a princess
the trapped-in-a-tower kind
and how you wear suits and talk about politics
and think you know the world.
My throat interrupts with an affronted gurgling sound
sometimes when I think about you,
you deal out advice where it just isn’t called for
you quote science-fiction to justify war
and you’re seventeen years old and you think I’m a princess
and you just have no blooming idea.
Darling, one of these days I will tell you my mind
But until then we’ll never fit
I’m afraid –
that even after that day
you’ll still be trimmed hedges and
Makers Of The Cage. Holders Of The Key.Our eyes are the closest thing we have to freedom.
We see endless blue sky, and the stars beyond.
We see the beauty of the world.
We see our reflection in the mirror;
the reality, and the fantasy.
Our eyes see far and great.
But the rest of us cannot follow.
Our hands probe the steel bars around us.
Fumbling in the dark.
Cut by the sharp edges.
The bleeding never stops.
Our feet shuffle around.
Trying to go places.
But we walk in circles.
Our emotions go from red to blue;
orange to green;
yellow to purple,
mixing in a haze.
Our mind goes to dark places,
and only wanders deeper.
Oblivious to the place right next door.
It knows the freedom,
it knows the pit.
There are endless paths to take.
There's a cage we need to break.
There is a key ourselves create.
In our hands, it's never too late.
on bradbury and table dancingYou are not a wordsmith
whatever you might like to think. ('Smith'
indicates precision and coldness and fire:
words are softer than that unless you mold them strong.)
It's a difficult road to follow, and not many
make it past the fork. Choose a path,
Janus says, whirligig keys spinning on his shoulders:
I am a wordworker, with my tools too crude, forming
rough-edged carvings painted with pretty imagery.
Notebooks scattered across the landscape
of a child's room, to be stumbled across,
read, red-penned, in the thick and choking breath of night.
When the bough breaks
a hanged man laughs. He carries typewriters
in his pockets, and cigarettes in the soles of his shoes.
I will never be a word mistress,
whoring myself to the speech of people I do not know and will never know me.
The oven is set to Fahrenheit 452, but the words were already aflame
before they ever took shape under your tongue.
You love everything they've ever written, and carry
unabashed loathing for every syllabl
Death to the LoversHe screamed,
He tore his hair from his scalp;
But it didn't bring her back.
The beautiful girl
With the gorgeous smile
And witty remarks
Would always lay six feet under.
She would lie in her death bed,
Her arms folded on her chest
And her face full of peace
Known only to the dead.
He would be the first to rot.
First his health,
Then his sanity.
She would forever feed on his emotions
Like a pretty little leech,
Sapping his well being
And happiness from her underground world.
And he would let her,
For a fool like him
Who allowed himself to love,
Universal Symbol, Poem 14Universal Symbol
A universal symbol,
yet just a tiny arc.
Welded into each of us,
unable to be torn apart.
You see it almost everywhere,
on yellow circles and on faces.
Its existed throughout all of time,
and is a part of all the races.
Its a symbol meaning happiness,
that one is expressing joy.
The truth behind cannot be faked,
or used simply as a ploy.
Its not just used in pleasant times.
Sometimes its use is mischievous.
For those who take pleasure out of pain,
its a sign that they are devious.
No matter what the connection,
whether its pleasant or its vile,
this universal symbol,
is simply just a smile.
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