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because love is a lesson in trial and errorI wish I had the words to tell you what I mean. I used to store sentences between my breaths – things that I couldn’t say at the moment, but wanted to remember. Now I can barely string together enough nouns and verbs to make you understand exactly what you mean to me. And I’m afraid.

I’m afraid that if I can’t get it together fast enough I’ll lose you. It’s like your water slipping through my fingers and I’m not quick enough to chase you through the currents. I know enough to know that you’re wild and free in a way that I’ll never be and maybe I’m jealous of that. Or maybe I&r
Futuro-Mamá esa chica se parece mucho a la tía Isabella -cuando escucho decir esto a Amanda, dirigiéndose a la Candace del futuro, una sola idea salta en mi cabeza haciendo eco e inevitablemente tengo que decirla en voz alta.
-Oíste eso Candace, voy a casarme con Phineas!
-O Ferb -me responde ella dejando mi mente en blanco.
Dirijo mi vista al peliverde y este me giña un ojo mientras hace un gesto con su mano señalándome. Bueno lo que dice Candace es verdad, para ser tía de Amanda tendría que casarme con Phineas o... Ferb.
Miro fijamente al chico frente a mí y de pronto todo desa
they were divorced before you criedI found hope walking a corner down 9th and I was afraid to ask, really. I was afraid to ask, "I'm sorry to bother you but did you kill your wife?" And I kept praying that if I did muster the courage to croak out loud, his jaundiced eyes adorned in kohl would widen and his gaze would fall before he sighed and muttered, "I'm not who you think you are and she cheated on me."
I would laugh because I expected it and my stature would stagger. It would lower and crawl into the pavement with my dignity as hope stands there worried, asking if there was a gas leak in the basement. I wouldn't stop laughing until he asked why and when he would, I'd smile. I'd smile and wipe a tear before murmuring to him, "Happiness sleeps around the minute you leave the house. I haven't laughed this hard since she told me she was going to stay."
Music Shuffle (Kyrie)Cage the Elephant – “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked”
      The sun finally sank below the horizon. Under the cover of a moonless darkness, the proxies slipped stealthily between the trees. The densely packed forest offered excellent protection from peering eyes, and so familiar were they with the many pitfalls and snaring brambles that they glided along effortlessly.
       Masky took the lead, guiding his two charges along toward the night’s goal. Hoodie followed at a short distance, his video camera fully charged and stocked with a fresh tape. Close beside him was Kyrie, bringing up the rear and making sure the
day 143still the walls reveal only hope
they marked me blue and yellow, mama.between graffitied walls and a lone, chipped sink, they watched me curl in upon myself and combust. it was the only way i knew of to stop the swirling in my hips and heels.
a week later i found emma, the smallest of the vultures, kneeling at my altar. and with her wing-bones hunching and heaving, she mimicked my combustion.
but her eyes were violet when she saw me. violet and brimming with the emptiness of her heels. and i knew. i knew that this could not hold her the way it held me. 
and mama, that hurt more than anything. her heels were empty, mama. empty. empty. empty. the way mine should have been, if only you had kept papa away.
if only you had kept away the first vulture i had ever know. if only, mama. if only.
Sweet Nothings'if i could, i would devour you. i would eat you whole, consume you mind, body, and soul. because i am a selfish person. i want you all to myself. no one else may have you.'   he said to her, as they lay tangled in each other.
her reply came with a sleepy smile.
'there is a part of my mind which understands the intended romance in your statement. that part is wooed by it. there is also a part which insists upon my realizing the reality, the literal. you, my dear, are a cannibal.'
he placed a kiss on her head.
'well, we'll have to work hard then, to make sure that you are only wooed. we will make you want to be eaten. we will make it so that part of your mind which is literal, is quiet, so when i whisper sweet nothings into your ears, you are completely swept away. lifted off your feet by my obvious romantic intention.'
The Cat and IA biography of myself.

Real Name:  I’m not telling, but KP stands for Kev Pickering

Nickname:  I refer you to the previous answer

Birthday:  July 16, 1963

Current Residence:  North West London, United Kingdom

Height:  5’ 8”

Weight:  Trying to lose it, thank you

Hair Color:  Dark brown but turning grey as it recedes.

Eye Color:  Hazel

Likes:  Films, musicals, fine literature, my family, and graphic novels.

Dislikes:  Shellfish, Lager, “Scripted Reality” shows.

Personality:  I’m very shy until someone gets to know me, but those who do tell me I can be a very kind, gentle and yet silly person.

Biog
silence.and i call silence to my mouth.
hoping that i can be heard.
in the teeming roar of the crowd.
anarchy awakens lazily from its slumber and rears its treacherous head.

-----

you scatter the dark with stars.
i wish they’d flare a little brighter.
just so i can pick my way through the mist.
but the fog swirls, thickens, until i’m drowning in the air we breathe.

-----

monsters under the bed chase the childhood dreams we once had.
we play under a broken, bleeding sun now.
muted and fading, it sinks beneath the horizon, casting its last rainbows on the clouds above.
it slips from our grasp.
shatters into a thousand burning pieces.

RecursionRecursion

Day 12

I hate those infernal hounds.

I can hear them approaching. I regret now that I have not walled off this little corner of the forest that I have chosen to call my own. I am tired, I am hungry, and I am weak from the venom of those spiders. I fear I have just enough time to fashion a spear before they come for me.

Wilson's hands shook as he read the words in the dying firelight. The darkness pressed in against him all around, crawling inward as the fire sputtered.

Those were the last words on the page. Dark spots marred the edges of the papyrus, dried deep into the reeds. A thick swipe of brown streaked along the bottom as
Winter-childi found her in november, wrapped in a sweater.
they wheeled her away on a cart too big for her; two days old, half-dead and blue as the ocean.
i waited, her sweater held in hands that shook and shimmied.
they brought her back to me a week later; nine days old, pink-skinned and plump.
i named her in big letters on a yellow form as she slept in the crook of my arm; mavis.
La cenaLa música palpitaba en sus oídos, invadiendo su cerebro de forma que no hubiese espacio para ningún pensamiento. Música era lo único que deseaba escuchar en esos momentos. Cerró los ojos. Tampoco quería ver nada. Aquella realidad convertida en pesadilla. Tomó aire despacio por la nariz, soltándolo después del mismo modo. Su espalda se reclinó en el respaldo de la silla. Sus músculos se relajaron. Como una droga. La música, en aquel instante, era como una droga. Una droga más o menos inofensiva que le aislaba de sus ideas frenéticas, que controlaban sus alteradas emociones. Se concentró. Aumentó su concentración y aguzó los oídos. Captando cad
HomecomingDestination:
A place I'm me.
Home.
Lucky No. 13 BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-CLICK.
Fuck. What the hell?
CLICK-CLICK.
That's not good.
I slide behind a corner and check my chamber.
What the hell?
The round isn't chambered properly.
I grab the bolt and rack it to the rear, ejecting the unspent round and chambering a new one as I step out of cover again.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-CLICK.
Fuck me. Again?
I slip into the next doorway and check the chamber once more.
Another unseated round. What the hell?
Problem fixed, back into the hall way.
BANG-BANG-CLICK.
FUCK!
I drop the rifle, letting it slide down to my hip on its strap as I draw my pistol. The one with the big yellow '13' emblazon
Character Analysis : Ruzai LockeHow to talk about him without revealing too much... hahaha. ; )  Don't expect an in-depth revealing analysis since I still wanna keep him an ambiguous character...

Lol he looks more closer to his age when he's not all sobcrypls... weeps.
He's actually a character type I'm not super comfortable with rping since I tend to play more strong(?) type characters. He's purposely given a "weak" personality and because of that he can be frustrating to play a lot of the time. I can't count the number of times during rp where I think to myself "OMG U R SO DUMB" or don't agree with his course of action. But at the same time it's refreshing to play a character that's very different than what I'm used to. But anyway... please excuse the in-cohesiveness of this analysis. I'm pretty much writing sections separately instead of trying to tie them together... dfchsfs
Thematically, he's pretty much designed around his mage item
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I put on my coat, my gloves, and scarf. I opened the door and greeted the winter chill.
Ice and snow was falling, but damn all to hell, I wanted that pie. I forced my way through the ice and fluff.
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"Saving you, now let's go!"
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Truth

:iconmegumitierana:

"Well, what's most important?" Xana asked me.
"Hell if I know." I answered with a kick to a crumpled Pepsi can.
"Come on Craig," she looked at me. "Honestly."
I looked away from her, at the street lamp, the curb, her bare shoulder, her spaghetti strap falling askew.
"Come on, your life depends on it." She cocked her fingers into a gun shape, pointing it at my head.
"Truth," I asked.
"Always," she nodded, lowered the gun, but still keeping it pointed at me.
"You."
She giggled. "Am I?"
I shrugged. "You tell me."

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:iconmegumitierana:

Truthby ~MegumiTierana

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Day 54 – Importance

I overheard someone saying “What’s most important.” I ran with it and tried to write something based on it. Looks like another damn love story :p
©2012-2013 ~MegumiTierana
Category: Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

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