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Destiny - Chapter FourOver the next few months I started to explore my "gift" as I had taken to calling it. It was getting stronger, becoming overwhelming most of the time. I would walk into a room simply to be bombarded with other people's emotions; I didn't know which ones were mine and which ones weren't. I could control myself well enough that I never had a breakdown in front of anyone but Tempest, my little sister, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide. After several weeks of being on an emotional roller coaster, she finally suggested that we work together to help me control the emotions and try to block them out.
It wasn't an easy process in the least. During this exploration I began to research. I needed to know if this was an anomaly or not, and if not, I need to know how to contain it, how to act and why I even had it.
I devoured every resource I could on the old Celtic religions, the era in which the earth and nature was worshiped; where the Mother Goddess and the Horned One rule
Love in a Hopeless Place
As I sit on my couch with my beer and my shot of whiskey in front of me, the sounds of music thumping through my speakers and my blood, I start to think about the past. It's been a year, and it's hard to believe but it has been. I wish I could take all of my memories and filter them out and play them over again to the sounds of my song, just so you could see them. See what I went through, hear what I heard.
I see them all just flashing over and over: the day we first met, the smile and the hug I was greeted with. The smell of my cigarettes and the dirty city streets as we walked to the movie theater the bitter taste of the whiskey on my tongue and the burn as it slid down my throat.
You found me in a bad time, the stress, the drinking, the drugs, the cutting even the abusive boyfriend. I had all the marks of a girl spiraling out of control. I wish I could put my memories into words just for once, to let someone else see it from my eyes: the times we drove around at 1 in
Destiny - Chapter ThreeThe fire flickered and sputtered in the fireplace. It was Thanksgiving and I was trying my hardest not to go crazy. The church had rented a hall for the meal and there were people everywhere. I still did not have a very good grip on controlling my gift and all the thoughts flowing around me were giving me a migraine. It was difficult sifting through all the thoughts swirling around. But when I was by the fire, it almost deadened the sense a little bit.
I looked up when I "heard" a thought from a person I knew well. Why hasn't he answered yet? Oh god, I hope nothing happened.... My sister was pacing nearby. She sighed and walked over to me. She sat down next to me and ran a hand through her hair.
"He's fine." I told her, without moving my gaze from the fire.
She visibly started. "W-who?"
"Jake." I responded, referring to her 'secret' boyfriend. Neither of us were technically supposed to date. She was going through some special classes at church. And I was still in high-school. Ap
Destiny - Chapter TwoMy life wasn't particularly charmed; I was a regular baby, and then an average child. My baby sister was born when I was two and I didn't understand the fuss and hubbub about her. She cried and screamed and slept and that was about it. Rather boring. In fact my cat was more interesting than she was.
My story starts with my eleventh birthday, actually the story starts long before then, but for it mainly started once I hit puberty. Up until then I had been carefree, the only distress in my world being whether or not I could get my math homework completed and still have time to play outside. It was then that the nightmares started. Oh I had always had bad dreams for as long as I could remember, only now, instead of being chased by dinosaurs and drowning in huge vats of chocolate, I was being chased by skeletons and rotten corpses, drowning in seas of blood and seeing my family and friends killed while I watched, unable to close my eyes. I dealt with these dreams by myself, even now, fifte
Destiny - Chapter OneI wasn't supposed to be alive. They called me the Miracle Child. Born more than a month before I was supposed to, I didn't even have lungs that worked. My heart? It had a hole in it. My own mother wasn't even able to hold me after I was born. As soon as I was born, the only arms I felt were those of doctors.
I never knew why I didn't die then. More than that, besides the occasional sickness that almost every child suffered, I was incredibly healthy.
For as long as I could remember, there was a painting that hung over the doorway to my room in my family's small apartment. A picture of three angels. My mother said that they reminded me of her and my older sister and my younger brother. I didn't know about all that. What I knew was that those nights that even as a young child that I couldn't sleep for whatever reason, I was able to find elusive sleep as I looked at that painting.
As a child, I had a vivid imagination. My imagination that had me writing stories in my notebook when I was su
Destiny - Prologue"She wasn't supposed to live!" came the hissed, angry voice from the shadows.
"No, she wasn't. But what is done is done. There was no reason for her death. He did what he saw fit in the time of difficulty."
"There was a reason you ignorant fool! There is always a reason. Her death was for the strength and trial of the eldest. It would have made her into a formidable opponent, changed the future of this world and theirs for good! It was ordained."
"This too was written in the stars. Her life and that of her sister has been etched in the stars since the beginning of time itself. Her life will strengthen the eldest and the destiny of the eldest will form the life and strength of the younger."
"SILENCE!" came a firm voice from the edge of the forest. "Silence, both of you. There is a reason behind everything. The destiny of these two was changed the second the child took breath. She was not supposed to but she has, and thus it has changed the future. They
kissMake a wish on a kiss and blow it to the wind
Hope it finds the one in mind and brightly shines
With the deep love with which it was given.
Fragile Memories - ProlougeIt was black as pitch that night as I lay down to sleep. The only sounds in the house were that of the heater and the steady slow beating of my heart. I lay beneath my blankets in a cozy cocoon of blissful warmth and closed my tired eyes. As I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt. Very much in the manner of Alice down the rabbit hole. A dream, but yet a vague, cloudy memory of the past within the dream. And as I fell further down the rabbit hole into Wonderland, my memory returned to me....
I opened my eyes to the world around me, a world so familiar yet so foreign to me at the same time. The trees were large and ancient, gnarled in their wisdom and the length of their memories. silken images fluttered before my eyes in the forms of gauzy butterflies and glistening spiders webs, shiny with the smallest of dew drops clinging to their delicate strands. The wind whispered playfully through the fern fronds and stirred up the leaves of the highest of the tree tops.The sun filtered quietly
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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