• I have bags under my eyes and bags under my arms. I will not make two trips. I will not sleep tonight. Tomorrow I will wake up, and they will be there. I’ll take them to school with me, I’ll take them back home with me. The bags grow. I do not. I will not sleep tonight. I fill the bags with dusted dreams.

  • snowthatremembers commented on the post, artificial 9 months ago

    The artificial coloring was orange, vibrant and obnoxious, and left no room for any other color to exist. The blue went extinct, and the purple was not long after. Red was the worst competitor, but it died out at the same time as green and yellow. Now we live in a world of orange.

  • I remember the seaside sounds, gulls flocking from one telephone pole to the next and crying out to each other. People were everywhere–the roads, the sidewalks, the ferries, in cars and in stores, waving from windows and shouting noiselessly across streets. The water at my feet splashed playfully over the sand.

  • A toxic purple mist explodes in my face, blasting my hair this way and that as I cough and wave in vain. I taste the poison on my tongue. I can only see purple, now. That awful lavender shade that is not so much lavender as it is gray.

  • What are the benefits of a crown? The power? The gold? The weight of the steel and blood upon your fair head, unrelenting…

  • The cake was tall and white, not a spot of frosting out of place. It stood on the table in the center of the room, looming over the guests like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, so perfectly white and so level that the thought of cutting it was unbearable.

  • A silver plaque balanced precariously on the windowsill, striking against the deep, smooth brown. Cursive was engraved across it, detailing the membership to some place the man had never since been.

  • The cinema smelled of roses. Curtains of scarlet and mahogany draped across the walls, thick and velvet and heavy, and the room was cloaked in blood. Down the hall, echoes glanced off the stone floor.

  • The camera clicks. I straighten up. The leaf is blown away by a gust of wind, scuttling away down the street and catching against the red brick wall. My hair has fallen across my face, and I brush it out of the way as I go to follow the leaf. I let the camera hang from it’s strap around my neck, the weight familiar and comforting.

  • The backdrop showed flowing green hills and grass that swayed in the wind. Above, the sky glowed blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds very like the cotton balls scattered across the floor of the stage. A few were caught on nails that stuck out of the splintered wood like rusty old thorns.

  • He stands at the head of the army. Commander, controller. The fragment that stands between our lives and our deaths, and he is deaf. He sees and he shouts, the tongue is the strongest muscle. He moves. He watches. He remains.

  • His fingers thrummed the strings, sending vibrations through the heavy instrument. He sat back, ran his thumb along the smooth, dark wood. His eyes lifted above the stand to the rest of the ensemble, lost in the rhythm of the sound.

  • My eyes scanned the room. She was not there, I was certain. I was beyond certain. And yet… that there in the corner… that wisp of blue smoke, that glimmer of steel in the dark. What else, who else, could it be?

  • snowthatremembers commented on the post, quick 10 months ago

    The fox’s tail flashed beneath the bush. I dove. I missed. I ended up with a mouthful of dirt and a faceful of thorns. I wiped blood out of my eyes, lifted my head. I stumbled to my feet, but the fox had vanished, a flame in the grass.

  • snowthatremembers commented on the post, classical 10 months ago

    The violins swayed to their melody as it floated through the dimly lit hall. The echoes carried across the stone, colder with every step she took away from the room. The wind ripped through an open window, tangling her hair.

  • Her eyes were muddy. They were that brown color. They never changed, and they never relented. If you looked into them for too long, you got stuck, just like everything else. And she wouldn’t let go. She would stare until you drowned in that mud, until you tried to claw your way out. But you always failed.