Okay, so I have been writing some today (YAY!) and I think I've come up with some new ideas and I know that I wrote a new piece. I don't know if it is done, but I like it as it is... Now I just need to give it a name!
My idea for a story was completely random and is, currently, unnamed. Though I think that my new poem might factor into the story idea somehow... idk yet. I just knew that I was creatively constipated and i needed to write something. So i just started writing. And I got this story involving 5 characters: Time, Heart, Soul, Wisdom and Love. I call them the Illuminati (The Illuminated), they also are connected to certain elements. My "Illuminati (Illuminated)" poem will probably go at the beginning of the story, depending on how the flow of words splashes upon the page... Anyway, these are some general descriptions of the 5 Illuminati:
Time is a Caucasian woman. She has ivory skin and ivory hair and pale violet eyes. (She is master of Earth)
Heart is a Native American man. He has black hair, a white eagle's feather entwined in it. He has ethereal white eyes and bronze skin that is often dinged crimson. (He is master of Water/Ice)
Soul is an African-American man. He has black hair, ebony skin and amber eyes. (He is master of Fire)
Wisdom is an Asian man. He has black hair, gold-almond skin and dark eyes. He is my favorite so far, because being Wisdom he knows what will happen. (He is master of Wind)
and Love is an Indian (as in India Indian) woman. Her hair is dark purple tipped in ivory, her skin is darker almond. She is blind (since the saying goes that Love is blind) and her eyes have no color at all. They are transparent windows into the soul. (She is master of Aether [in other words, Void/Sky/Heaven])
I know that all of them have something that goes along with what they are. For example: Heart carries about a Metronome. Since the heart's rhythm is like that of a Metronome. And I know that something catastrophic is about to happen that will destroy the Illuminati and bring about a new world. But IDK why or when or how. I guess that will come later.
At any rate, here is my new piece that I've been working on today (the poem that is... I haven't typed up the story, I was actually using graphite and wood pulp!!! *shocked look*), I hope you all enjoy and leave me a comment or two to let me know what you think.
PS. This poem is rather gruesome, so you've been forewarned!
PPS. I often change tenses in this piece. But otherwise I think it turned out fairly well. I accidentally slipped in and out of past and present tense. Sometimes that works I guess...
Dead-Man's Gaze (this is a title I just thought up!)
There they stood. Torn at the seams and broken at the center of it all. She says something he cannot hear, vision is blurring and everything is unclear. He touches her arm, his touch is cold as ice. She tries to shake the pain, brush off his touch, but she can't seem to move now, frozen in time. The bruises don't show, they lie at her soul, bruised where he can't see the damage inflicted.
She was standing by the door, the dark purple and ivory curls flying about her porcelain face. He was standing on the other side of the door, the tears of lost butterflies burning up the stillness. The rubies were falling in crimson raindrops to the worn wooden floor. They scramble to recover the moments long gone, standing there cringing from the hand of no one.
He is sitting on the ground, back to the wall, eyes un-blinking. Lifeless man's gaze into the void of broken sunshine. Only a dead man could know the truth. Eviscerated, his hands are missing, his eyes cut from his skull, only the bloody abscence remains. They see more than the eyes ever did. Gun-smoke hangs them both, gray crystals encircling their necks and choking the breath from their crushing lungs.
She gasps, the knife twists between the ribs and the sickening crunch causes her lids to widen. She flutters, a wingless bird trying to fly away. Her black eyes don't close, the sounds of death escaping her soul. Blinded, she finally sees. Hollowed, she is finally full. Chained, she is finally free.
Severing the cords, they slump together. Putrescent love stories told by blanching bones. He soulless against the wall, she emptied upon the staining wood floor. Twisted and entwined, they rot in the exquisite quiet. Dying butterflies across their ruby lips. Sealed with that morphing kiss, sworn to perpetual silence.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment