Twenty-Fifth day aboard ship - Even the winged weary grow, with sky above but no land below
At last land has appeared on the horizon. I never thought I'd be so happy to arrive in so barren and dead a place but It will be good to be back on solid ground. I've had not nearly enough time for anything on this ship and even Red has grown weary of shipboard life and rightly so, though when he resorted to hunting a stowaway rat several days ago the crew seemed amused and appreciative.
Swiftly and quietly Zen Driikerym slipped off the ship and onto the docks in a land he'd never seen befor
Questions of a Child 1 by mothsafterglow, literature
Literature
Questions of a Child 1
Father? the young boy said quietly. The man standing over him was very tall and with a strong build and his bare arms and torso glistened with sweat and blood in the warm summer air as he carefully peeled the hide from the dear he had brought home that morning and strung from the wise oak that stood to the west of their family's small home.
Yes Zen? the man answered. The concerned look in the boy's eyes worried him, though he'd known the first experience witnessing the hunt might jar his son. Is it about the rites of death we performed?
No father. It's not that, it's just... the boy traile
Twenty-Fifth day aboard ship - Even the winged weary grow, with sky above but no land below
At last land has appeared on the horizon. I never thought I'd be so happy to arrive in so barren and dead a place but It will be good to be back on solid ground. I've had not nearly enough time for anything on this ship and even Red has grown weary of shipboard life and rightly so, though when he resorted to hunting a stowaway rat several days ago the crew seemed amused and appreciative.
Swiftly and quietly Zen Driikerym slipped off the ship and onto the docks in a land he'd never seen befor
Questions of a Child 1 by mothsafterglow, literature
Literature
Questions of a Child 1
Father? the young boy said quietly. The man standing over him was very tall and with a strong build and his bare arms and torso glistened with sweat and blood in the warm summer air as he carefully peeled the hide from the dear he had brought home that morning and strung from the wise oak that stood to the west of their family's small home.
Yes Zen? the man answered. The concerned look in the boy's eyes worried him, though he'd known the first experience witnessing the hunt might jar his son. Is it about the rites of death we performed?
No father. It's not that, it's just... the boy traile
There once was a girl with lots of curls, they fell just below her chin and when the wind blow it tickled her just so, to make her giggle sore, up above like butterflies in the breeze.
The sun shown down upon the girl as she spun around the garden grounds the roses bloomed in pleasant greeting.
With a sigh she lay down her head in the flower bed. A sweet smelling dream filled with fairy dust and happy things.
Two fingers pinched a pair of wings, a thundering halt. The sun choked back, roses gagged, the rain came down and washed her fairy tails away.
Tangled curls matted to a sweaty face, a pounding heart and a gasping end.
Supple on Top - Tao 76 by mothsafterglow, literature
Literature
Supple on Top - Tao 76
shredded paper tigers
carried away on the north wind
lost for good with no hope but for
to land and plant paper tiger trees again
to spread the loathsome weakness
till it is week no more
and we are taken over
by that which was weak before
weakness grows
and sometimes slows
the passage of time
the churning of days to weeks to months to ages
of the soft, the fragile, and the crumbling
and that which lives inside
the romantics
the poets
and the philosophers of old
Current Residence: Pennsylvania Operating System: XP MP3 player of choice: 120GB Zune Shell of choice: Conch Favourite cartoon character: Daria Personal Quote: "The problem with poet is how do you know it's deceased?" Sweeney Todd
Favourite Movies
Underworld, Underworld 2, Sweeney Todd, The Crow
Favourite Games
find the key ;-)
Favourite Gaming Platform
xBox
Tools of the Trade
a strange and slightly disturbing love for that which is morbidly beautiful