Here I sit, waiting for something to stir inside.Something unavoidable.A word, image, or emotion that sets my being to work.Signals to amplify. Mind itching, soul contorting, body in stasis.Dependent on that flow to be complete.Hunting a purpose for the moment.A weapon to kill the emptiness inside. At long last the darkness is slashed away.Awaken the…
The Promise of Tomorrow
Nearly scraping your toes, a rigid stalk shot from the ground. Leaves and vines poured past you in great amount and yet you remained still. When the flurry of plant matter subsided, an enormous verdant trunk was on display in the sea of vines and leaves. It curled upward through the lumpy clouds high above,…
A Breeze of Sea and Trees
Cool wisps of fog linger near the dark edges of evergreen branches. Bordered by steep stony crags that lift into the sky and lower into the sea, the forest of Firstlight nestles close to the coast and the city of Fogmorn. It was here that the rhythmic tones had led you, to a place among…
Inviting Sounds In Early Morning
The sun has yet to rise as a gentle thrumming undulates across the open field in front of you. Fireflies alight in the pre-morning symphony, swirling around your form and causing trails in the fog. Is it a horn and drums that sources the disturbance? Whatever it is seems to pull you in, a gnawing…
Mottled Return
The end is nigh!Ye, the end is in sight.The end is a blight of which forewarns our demise.Our return to the night, the deepest dark in our eyes. Sight slips away as reality rends our brain.The prickling of life shivers across the grey surface.Bridges burning in the frigid slowing undulations.Memories unfriendly as they pass. Teeter…
trapezist
It was she, the trapeze artist, that saved my life back then.
Dearest Seren, inspired by Wolforian
Wibbly wobbly timey-wimey…stuff.It goes “ding” when there’s stuff. People bring in their stuff to watch it tumble down trees.It slips through some holes ending up under knees. From there the stuff flings from one end to other.Ends up in your bank from the sweet Seren Mother.
Lettuce Wood, inspired by Menduksai
Lettuce would, if it could.Then the small forgot the leathers.
Hush
The quiet cracks the silence.
Love Nub
What is that thing?Could it be a grub?No, my good man! It is a love nub! Neither here and neither there, you might lose it in all the hair. Some are small and some are large. But if you press it, then you’re in charge.What is that thing, I ask again? Like a feathered pecking…