luxuria
you know the feeling
of hot breath on a cold windowsill?
in yearning, the glass
fogs up
and the way honey oozes
down your finger
if you happen to drip some
onto yourself, an accident
and, the feeling
staring across the room
and you know, you must have your fingers
running over their skin
the feeling of stars in your stomach
and the feelings of fire in your veins
brave
The land was barren, the sky was black...
And she knew that the King's Men were back
On their horses, complete with grins
They have come to conquer and win
But her people were strong, and she was their strength
To fight they would go to any lengths
So as the King's Men grew close to her land
She gathered every woman and man
And took up swords, every single one
Able to fight, able to fight the ones who would come
The Butcher took up a wieldy blade
The Healer's sons came to her aid
The Mason hefted a hammer of war
The Messenger called that revenge will be borne
Upon the shoulders of a single girl
Who through the enemy will spin and twirl
With the Dragon lending her wings
She marched on and on
The people's anthem she sings
The bloody vengeance song
"The Men of the King can wait," she cried
Hearing them knock at the gate outside
"But we will bring God's fury down
Upon the scum, they'll burn and drown!"
She raised her sword, of the best steel
Light as a feather, slick as an eel
Swept it through the brightening sky
And then, a furious roar she cried--
"Halt, whoever goes forth!
For the Lord here does not welcome you onto his land.
I am the daughter of my Lord, and thus
You will perish by my hand."
A wave of fire scorched the land
Avoiding the fort so heavily manned
Then the plague of a thousand seas
Leaving shadows of men on a broken frieze
And thus, the war for them was waged
But the tale has died through this age
So I dare you, yes you, to spread the word
About the girl who dared to hold a sword.
The Hunter
She glances off into the horizon as the thirteen life stars journey the harvest sky. In the distance a hogsnatch screeches becoming ensnared in one of her traps. Silently, just as the elders taught her she glides through the trees towards the wounded beast, whispering prayers bringing her blade down.
final sin
The clock struck midnight.
I stare. He's on the podium, except not to give a speech.
The guillotine's beautiful blade hangs above his head as he speaks a soliloquy I once taught him.
Every word is perfect.
He never managed to do that in lessons.
I give a proud little chuckle as he bows his head.
The crowd is silent as I clap.
Once.
He looks at me incredulously.
This is all my doing, he reminds me with his cold blue gaze, a proud little smirk on the corner of his thin pale lips.
Twice.
It's a punishment for my deeds, not yours. You will be punished, too, though... I raise an eyebrow as the executioner prepares for the much-awaited task. He kisses the air and shouts, "Salut!"
Once I join you in Hell.
Thrice.
I clap a final time, and the blade whooshes down to sever that clever, cruel head of a child from the spoilt and tainted body. I can still feel his skin under my fingers, hear him as he calls out to me.
I smile pleasantly at the woman next to me. "He is finally dead, hm?"
She nods vigorously, fire in her eyes. "He killed my son!"
Your son was a rapist and a murderer.
The man behind me interjects, "He had disrupted all my missions!"
He does your detective job better than you do it, kind sir.
"He stole a cane from my shop!"
It was used to catch a serial killer.
"He brainwashed my children, then let them die!"
He didn't brainwash them, oh no. You did.
I give a chuckle as the murmurs grow louder.
I am the true sinner, but I will never repent.
the Box and the man in it
A long time ago, in a galaxy far away...
Roderich's hands skittered over the piano in desperate strokes, coaxing a desolate melody from the translucent keys. It didn't matter that everything was fading - he had all the notes memorised, forever ingrained into his fingertips.
The melody blurred as Roderich felt himself heat up, blood rushing and heart pounding as he slammed his hands down in a terrifying finale, a trickle of some liquid running down his cheek.
He didn't pay it any attention.
The wrong notes had gotten the best of him.
There lived a man, who was kept alive by a memory.
The substance started to slide off his porcelain cheek, splattering onto the piano. Roderich didn't heed the sign, continuing to pound, refusing to look anywhere but at the instrument.
The man loved music, above all - the memory of when everything was solid and beautiful.
Roderich's breathing slowed as the melody softened. Everything blurred, wet and sticky, like the remains of a carcass. Which, in a way, it was. The notes screamed out.
Once, the man lost his music.
Hands came, tugging him away from his beloved music-making machine. Roderich choked out a scream and looked behind him, clawing at the pale hands attached to his own.
They were relentless, and Roderich could only watch helplessly as his piano faded into nonexistence right before his eyes.
The hands let go, and Roderich flew over, kneeling, looking desperately at where the piano used to be. A strangled sob escaped from his fragile throat and crystal tears pattered the ground, fallen from violet eyes.
The hand was on his shoulder, an arm around him, protective and nurturing.
Restraining.
"Rods." The nickname . Roderich used to hate it, but at that time he clung onto it like a lifeline.
"Hey. Stop crying. You knew this was going to happen." A hand in his hair, ruffling it, messing it up. Roderich didn't bother to push it away. Instead, he stayed quiet.
"You have to come out of the Box! I know you love that damn music of yours, but..." The hands rested on his cheek.
"Come out. Your piano's gone now, but I can get you a new one. Stenwhy, right? What you wanted?"
Roderich stifled a chuckle. "A Steinway," he breathed, his voice cracking, a ghostly whisper. "A Steinway," Roderich repeated, feeling a new life seeping into him, bringing blood to his cheeks, vigor into his eyes.
He raised his head. Ruby eyes met him.
"Whatever." Arrogance. He missed it, missed it like he missed the sun. It was his sun.
"Steinway. Fine." Roderich saw black boots in front of him. He rose, looking the other in the face.
"You'll get me a Steinway," Roderich whispered. Those eyes captured him, drew him in.
"Damn right."
Roderich felt himself being pulled into a kiss.
He smiled joyfully.
The man lost his music, but he found something better.
That thing made him truly happy.
And it would be his, his forever.
When You End Mid-Sentence
A cacophony of shadows, and all I feel is fear.
They're closing in on me.
One step at a time.
There's a drum in my chest.
Beating at a wild, uncontrolled tempo.
It gets louder.
Faster.
I feel it in my head.
In my ears.
Wrists.
Fingertips.
They back me up until I hit the hard, jagged press of the cave wall behind me.
I feel the cold seep through me.
A shiver runs through my body.
All I see are a dozen pairs of malevolent eyes floating in the inky blackness.
I feel their shadows on me.
As cold as ice.
I shiver again, involuntarily.
I close my eyes.
I await my death.
My rebellious mind thinks
"The end is nigh"
This is not