Imagine the human soul as an orb of glass.
If someone says something, that hurts,
because it's true, the orb gets cracks.
Then a blazing hand arises,
it melts the glass,
it makes the orb whole again.
He says:"It's okay."
CrowfeetAt first sight the bulky figure hobbling through the cloudy harvest evening would not appear as unhuman to any observer. Any citizen that saw the figure would just assume that it was some old, misshapen beggar in his dirty ropes. Only on a closer look someone could see the strange feet the person was walking on and maybe if he turned his head, become aware of something that looked like and unaturally long nose.
They called him Crowfeet, although he had an actual name, he still used Crowfeet because he learned that the people in this city weren't able to pronounce his name correctly anyway.
Crowfeet was a stranger to this city, he came from about half a world away, but his people abandoned him or he did abandon his people, depending on the point of view.
Crowfeet was a Tengu, the tengu were a people of humanoid ravens, living in the far east. Crowfeet's kin loved soaring the skies abouve the dragonspine mountains and practice the art of the sword. He himself however never was that much
A Job"I have a job for you."
Joffry opened his eyes. He had been sleeping on the ground in the "establishment" in the Rhinestreet. Now he looked up.
Lucretia was standing over him, she gazed down on him. She was expecting a reaction.
"Am I getting payed.", yawned the young man without much interest.
"I was expecting you to do this as part of our agreement." answered the women that was called "Lady" or "Mother" by the other women or girls of the house.
"Ah yeah our agreement.", he knew that she wanted him to do it as part of the agreement, but he nevertheless wanted to double-check and see if he can get any money out of it.
The "Agreement" was that he could get shelter in the house whenever he needed it and in return "scare" off any men that would threaten the integrity of the establishment.
Actually he did not need to do anything so far - most of the time dropping his name was enough.
"So what is it?", mumbled Joffry, still lying on the ground.
"I want you to punish someone." - now he looke
Written with BloodPlease do not ask me
'Bout Dark Poetry
Have no need for it
It doesn't touch me
These are little Words
Of Pain, Hate and Fear
But they have no Sense
If you haven't felt such
If you have not seen
And you have not felt
They are just three Words
Like You, Me and Thee
These are puny Words
For those who felt it
Burning Pain in you
Roaring Hate for you
And the Fear of you
Of what thing you are
The beast you might be
The Darkness you crave
These are just Words
If you have never
Heard the fearful shouts
And seen the shed Blood
Do not talk to me
About Fear and Loath
If you have not seen
MistHe stepped out into a cloudy october night.
It was allways cloudy, or misty or both in the little town at the edge of the swamp.
The people of the town carefully avoided the swamp, allthough nobody really knew why. It was just a creepy place that no one wanted to visit especially not during the night.
He was on the way home from the towns pup to his house on the other side of the town.
Lost in lought he walked the streets untill he saw infront of him a huge, black dog sitting on the street.
Strange...he had never seen such an animal around here before. As he came closer the dog set up and started growling at him. He wanted to sneak past the dog, but the animal was blocking the way. He wanted to step back and try another way around, but another dog was sitting in the adjecting alley. He turned around just to see that there was another dog coming from the opposing alley.
"What the fuck is going on here...?!"
He started to walk the way back and realized that they were following him, so he
A true StoryThis is a true story.
A story about my grandfather and about the second world war.
When my grandfather was at my age he was a communist and gave speeches in collogne.
Communists were bitter rivals of the Fascists and their favored country was russia, because it was the only country at that time that had a communist system.
Maybe that was the reason why he was send there in the war.
My grandfather was send to siberia. In case you don't know what that means a small anecdote: Soldiers that were honored for fighting in siberia recieved a medal, that was called "Frozen-Meat-Medal" among the people. The russian winter on his own was deadly enough.
As far as I know my grandfathers group was on the march when they met a naitive that tried to defend himself. The officer of the group decided that the man had to die and ordered my grandfather:"Shoot him."
My grandfather refused, I don't know if out of compassion or simple stubbornness, but I do know that the Officer and my grandfather strated to
Raven's FlightHe looked at the coat of arms - with a frowend forehead.
"Interesting, isn't it?", said a voice behind him and he turned around.
He saw a man, with grayish-blond hair, a blond, stubbly beard and a black eyepatch over his right eye. The man beared the same coat of arms.
"Greetings, Milord.", the sentence was pure rutine, he had said it a hundred times before and will say it another hundred times, before the end of his duty.
The man with the eyepatch nodded as a response. He stepped forward and looked at the coat of arms on the wall.
It showed a raven carrying an olive branche in it's beak. A raven as an emblem wasn't unusual, also a bird carrying an olive brach wasn't an unusual symbol, but he had never seen a raven carry an olive branch. Well...he had never actually seen a dove that carried an olive brach either, but the combination of raven and olive brach seemed like a twist in the myth.
"You ask yourself: Why a raven. Don't you?", aksed the lord.
"I would never dare to question a lo
Pride of the Dark Ones 2Look at this man, you might remember him as an old scholar. He had the pleasure to explain to a young boy, whos father had been slain in battle, why "Darkelves" didn't equal "Evilelves".
As most scholars do he left out some details to make his statement sound more believeble. In fact it was a number of detials, in onther words he just told the boy a half of the actual truth. The other half...
It was true that the soldiers, nobles and even the King of the dark elves were bound by a strict code of honor. But these aren't all of the dark elves and no we are not talking about the females here, the women of the dark elves are as much warriors as their male counterparts.
But in a world were a large part of influence is in the hands of people that study things that aren't visible to normal people, we have do ask ourselves how do "they" do it.
What are the mages of the dark elves.
First, they aren't called mages the are Warlocks, which indicates that they work with dark energies. Some of them
The Real YouDay after day, you busy yourself with things that you enjoy, hobbies that make you content, spend time with people who make you laugh. Your friends see you smile and love the sunshine it brings to them, and you yourself are glad you could give them happiness. They see you as someone to turn to when they need to be reminded that life isn't so bad, that there is a way to express joy through the hard times, and they thank you for helping them, even though it seems like you were doing nothing but being yourself. But it was being yourself that spread those smiles to others, wasn't it? A chain reaction caused by the simple act of your own face preforming the ever so contagious grin. They see you as carefree, jubilant, energetic, and nothing seems to bother you. You love when people tell you you've made them smile, and it makes you smile, glad to know that you brought them happiness.
Then you remember who you really are. You remember that they've never seen the real you. You remember that the
sadness when my mind is unmappedsadness.
when my mind
continuos plans and goals
people and noise
a well designed team
but my mapped mind
is peace to me
DeviantArt the beneficiary
of a life long collaboration
of mind mappers
are you under it?
or, is it under you.
it is coming.
surrender your beliefs
open your mind
is the idea
Dear Ex,My heart overflows with gratitude to you for the wonderful way that you've been treating me since our breakup. The past months have been truly enlightening, and the gifts that you have given to me have warmed my heart, strengthened my spirit, and broadened my mind.
First, I must thank you for ignoring me, especially for passing me straight on the street, staring at your shoes as if you hadn't seen me there, even though I had been walking so close to you that our shoulders would have bumped each other, had there been only a foot's less distance between us. The time without you has forced me to reach within myself for the companionship and encouragement that I needed to press on. It has proved to me that you weren't as much as I had made you out to be, and enabled me to learn to carry on without you. You taught me a lot about putting others before myself, versus knowing when to put myself before others.
Secondly, I am grateful for your petty arguments, demanding my attention while
Inner Grells' short stories compilation. A kiss
He kissed me. Our lips fit together like puzzle pieces and remained connected and immobile for a brief moment. Now I understand the meaning of locking lips in a kiss. Then he pulled away and I stayed right there, with my eyes closed and the feel of his warmth still on my lips. After several moments I opened my eyes. The world swam. He was looking at me with an aloof sort of a smirk, while I was having trouble keeping my balance. I wonder how I looked from the side. Confused? Out of it?
"You happy now?" Sarcastic.
I tried to think of what to say. Gotta make him laugh. Gotta come up with something witty. Or maybe pout and demand a real kiss? While one part of my mind was occupied with these thoughts, another part honestly reflected on the question: Am I happy? YES. The realization washed over me like a warm wave: I'm happy. He kissed me. Right here, right now, I'm happy.
"Yes," I answered truthfully. I could feel a smile spread on my f
i wanti don’t know what to write here. that i miss you? that it’s not okay and i want your arms around me? i want the smell of you and your hands on my ears, tangled up in my hair. i want you sleeping and peaceful, fingers like butterfly wings on my spine.
i want your car, you and me and highways. i want the night pressed against us and the air thick with sufjan stevens and your voice.
i want your grandmother’s house and bumping hips in that tiny kitchen, your queen size bed and cool sheets, sprawling on the carpet in bare legs and baggy t-shirts, rug burn on the backs of my knees.
i want kissing in your parent’s half-finished basement, your mother asking my opinion of her hair and you shuffling awkwardly in the hallway. i want curling up with you on a tiny couch, half-listening to movies with dust on my feet.
i forgot how you smelled and it’s killing me.
Foolish Lament Of MineHandsome as the fairy-tale person you would never expect to meet-- Bowing before me as if I were his Queen, not a princess. Lips as pink as a rose; eyes green as the beautiful emeralds on the necklace of a king, yet his posture so correct and poise you would have to see it to believe my every note..
When I was writing this, did I imagine the man I started talking to months ago or did I imagine Tamaki from the romantic school comedy anime.... All these qualities I was listing in this romantic series I had written almost a year ago, and the qualities I listed in my heartbox that's underneath my dresser (that I've yet to bury in the backyard), they had come true... Or were they meant as a reminder..
Was the person I was talking to supposed to be a daily reminder that I'm not foolish to dream endlessly of the possibilities for numerous romantic situations to happen between my future love and I...? I believe so. When I look back on the romantic stories I read, to suppress the lonelin