Comments Posted By Ebony Bird
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In an empty room, with no company but the old, creaking wooden floors and the windows that stood as a gateway to the cold world outside, an armchair sat, caked in dust. The one who once sat reading in it a long forgotten memory.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 11.28.2013 @ 1:24 pm
Her intent was to forget it all. Leave it behind by drowning out everything that could remind her of it. She put her head underwater and tried to breathe in, but her lungs wouldn’t allow her to. She stayed under until her salty tears mixed into the freshwater lake, yet when she raised her head again, the voice of guilt still streamed into her ears.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 07.03.2013 @ 3:16 pm
There’s a little speck floating in the sky. It could be the free floating balloon of a child now in tears, or a bird in the distance, lost and alone. It could be a speck on my glasses, or something in my eye, but it could also be a helicopter or airplane.
There are a million ways to see things from a distance. It’s only when we silence the world around us and look closer that we can see the truth clearly.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.29.2013 @ 9:13 am
It should have been a joyous moment. The tears that wet my cheeks should have been tears of happiness, but instead they were of shock and fear. I wiped his blood off my hands and stared in disbelief at his mangled body, but the truth would not escape my thoughts.
I did this.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.26.2013 @ 6:25 pm
Everyone tells me that people are better in pairs. After all, who would rather have a misfit single sock than two that match? But I disagree. It’s always been better with just myself as company. I’ve taught myself to face the world alone, so why should I feel the need to drag another along?
Perhaps I’m better as half of a pair, perhaps I am one on my own.
Why doesn’t that alone intrigue you?
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.17.2013 @ 7:20 pm
“YOU LOST! You’ll never be anything but a loser, Miss Cardeth, and I don’t want a loser on my team.”
This is my basketball coach. He’s a short little man with greasy, dull brown hair displayed in a comb over. His face is covered in wrinkles and constantly red, which makes him appear far older than he is, but I suppose a lifetime of yelling will do that to a man. He also has a bit of a belly, but no one would ever dare point it out if they want to stay alive.
My parents always tell me to suck it up. He does this because he knows how much I care about basketball and he wants me to have a future in it. But if he really did, would he push me so past the point of exhaustion that I pass out? Would he bully me to the point where I leave practice in tears and spend my spare time screaming at myself? Wouldn’t he for once, just once, tell me I did well, rather than beat me up even when I know that I was better than ever?
He isn’t coaching me to be the best at basketball, he’s coaching me to believe I could never reach such heights.
I’ve made up my mind.
I’m quitting his game
And going to play basketball.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.10.2013 @ 1:38 pm
The murder went undetected.
With invisible blood, there was no evidence.
When no one ever cared, there was no one to notice.
The murder went undetected.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.08.2013 @ 5:41 pm
It was a collage of blood and broken bones. An entire village of 79 people, dead. My stomach turned as I made out the frightened and charred face of a child in the remains of a burnt down home.
“I never meant for this to happen.”
“You were warned.”
“I know…I regret fighting. I feel more beaten now than I would had I lost.”
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.05.2013 @ 3:41 pm
Where there is love, there will always be hate. Time and time again these words have proven to be honest, but now they appear to be false. And still, they haunt me. I fear that hate is simply taking it’s sweet time and love is growing tired. Soon enough, hate will be near, and it will devour all else.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.04.2013 @ 1:33 pm
And all alone, the invisible queen grew from a forgotten little girl into a lovely young woman- who, to the towns people, was only a myth. She spent her days caring for her gardens, dancing alone in the ballroom and painting pictures of a family she never knew. She had the entire castle to herself, but all the same, the invisible queen couldn’t help but feel homeless.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 06.03.2013 @ 4:25 pm
A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. His breath came out in shallow bursts and his body shuddered in pain as I slowly slid the knife between his ribs.
“I am so, so sorry.” I whisper into his hair. His body lies crippled at my feet. “But that answer was not good enough.”
And as the life leaves the eyes of my first kill, I feel it.
I feel my mind shatter.
And I am no more, but my body lives on;
Lives on to shatter the world.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.26.2013 @ 5:12 pm
It’s only me, alone here,
In my mind I’m not afraid.
It’s me singing to my fingertips,
Holding tight while clouds pass by.
As I fly higher than impossible
People forget to stare in wonder.
I fly up into the stratosphere
And forget the world down under.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.24.2013 @ 4:40 pm
He kept casting the line over and over again. Obsessively. I asked him once why on earth it was so important for him catch a fish when he could simply buy one in the market and save himself the trouble, but he only shot me with a glare before look before returning to his fishing.
This morning, in the paper, I read that the old man had drowned- he had jumped into deep, rocky waters during the storm last night. It’s only now, as I stare at the tombstone that sits beside his, the one that marks the absent body of his wife, who was lost at sea a year ago, that I realized why.
He wasn’t trying to catch fish, he was trying to catch a meaning; a reason to live without her.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.21.2013 @ 2:47 pm
The ink bled down the page as he signed his name, right at the bottom. He had promised he would never sell the old farm house, but it was beginning to drive him mad. Screams echoed through the constantly, deadly cold hallways and the stairs would often creak and groan even when nobody traveled them. The house was haunted, yes, he had know that for quite some time. But recently, a different realization had bloomed within him, one that had left him with no other choice than to sign the papers.
The house was alive.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.18.2013 @ 11:56 am
Taboo? Taboo. Taboo, taboo, taboo. It’s all a taboo to me. This is what I’ve always sworn I would never do, always sworn I would never feel. I’ve always told myself I’m better off alone, and I think I am. But now I’m torn. I have a plan, places I want to go, a line I walk along and never planned to let go. But now I feel my feet slipping and I begin to wonder. I wasn’t wrong the first time- my taboo was right, and I should have never ignored it. But this is different. Isn’t it?
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.14.2013 @ 7:20 pm
His coat reeked of it, and the stench suffocated me as he drew me near. I never wanted this. I never saw it coming. I cough and try to pull away, but he holds me tightly and his arms are strong.
And I’m afraid.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.07.2013 @ 4:19 pm
So many stories. What’s yours? What’s mine?
Better make it one worth listening to.
I want my story to be told; to grow old; so old it’s almost a fairy tale.
An adventure so great, the old and wise will share it with their children as they drift off to sleep.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.06.2013 @ 2:05 pm
If you keep rating the stars on how brightly they shine, you’ll miss all the beauty of the moon.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 05.03.2013 @ 5:32 pm
And perched above her bed sat the midnight crow.
It’s piercing cries sang to her sleeping mind,
sang it into madness.
Obsessed and senseless,
she followed the sound of it’s feathers against the air,
followed it into the land of the dead.
She fell down on her knees as it flew into the trees,
asking why it had taken her too early.
But the crow never returned, never answered her call.
Only left her to the mercy of death.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 04.28.2013 @ 7:13 pm
He doesn’t even blink. He just accepts it. Sometimes I can hardly stand it- he’s so mundane it makes my heart hurt.
“Do you want to play again?” He asks, only for the sake of making conversation.
I though I could help him. I thought I could change his life, really make him appreciate life.
But changing someone’s life is harder than I thought.
You can be as inspirational as you want, but none of it helps if the person does not know how to be inspired.
And that, that is incredibly difficult to teach.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 04.23.2013 @ 4:18 pm
She stepped into the cafe, arms bleeding and clothes torn. She slid into a booth, clearly not wanting any attention, but one of the waiters, currently pouring coffee for a wrinkled, gray man, immediately dropped what he was doing and hurried over to her. All other turned a blind eye, not wanting to meddle in a reckless girls mistakes, but he sat with her the whole night, mending her wounds and saving her mind from destruction.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 04.22.2013 @ 5:47 pm
Her dress was magenta. Not a harsh, bright magenta like so many of the skin-tight dresses most women were wearing that night, but rather a darker, calmer shade. It flowed just past her knees and made her emerald eyes sparkle as she caught sight of him. He held his breath as she flashed him a shy smile. But then he blinked, and she was gone.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 04.21.2013 @ 7:33 pm
It burrowed into her eye, straight into the pupil. I could have sworn I saw her irises turn slightly red as her eyes bled and she cried in pain. She later told me that she would have rather it had been a needle piercing her eye than the horrific scene that played before her, leaving her blinded and scarred. It crawled in through her eyes and burnt an image in her mind, changing her perspective forever more.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 04.20.2013 @ 2:14 pm
There was a smudge in the corner of her glasses. As she moved to wipe it away, she noticed it was moving. She turned to see that it was not in fact a smudge, but a distant rainstorm, in constant motion, far off in the distance. Nothing is ever as small or meaningless as it might seem, she thought to herself. She removed her glasses and continued on her way, the lenses of no use to her now that she saw things with new eyes.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 04.02.2013 @ 4:16 pm
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Bronze. It’s the color of good, but not good enough for gold. Mediocre. An accomplishment, but not the highest accomplishment. It’s being so close you can taste first place on the tips of your tongue, but being unable to swallow it.
» Posted By Ebony Bird On 03.28.2013 @ 2:29 pm