Entries By M. Darkweaver
Displaying 1 To 30 Of 38 Entries
under
alive
If there is anything to be learned,
from this rush of glitter and golden light,
it is that one should always wait
just one more moment
before tying that rope.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 09.16.2012 @ 5:44 pm
asthma
She gasped and rolled over, her hands reaching out into the night sky, touching swirling stars.
So this was what it meant to be mortal.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 09.14.2012 @ 8:13 am
dehydrated
The second her lips touched his, he was nothing but sand on the wind.
Falling through the cracks between her fingers.
Sprinkling over her shoes like one last pleading kiss.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 08.31.2012 @ 1:40 pm
modem
The inventor shrunk backwards from the smoking wires and felt a sob rise in his throat.
She broke.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 07.04.2012 @ 2:18 pm
motion
They wrestled the gun from the assassin’s hand too late.
He had already fallen to the ground.
Fallen as quickly as she had fallen in love with him.
His blood as red as her lipstick.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 07.02.2012 @ 10:03 am
distributor
The little white boxes were stacked in neat rows on the table.
“They’re guaranteed,” said the slick voice.
“You promise it won’t hurt?”
“Oh, no. It’ll be just like going to sleep.”
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.27.2012 @ 9:49 am
dwell
She was inside the fire.
The fire, likewise, was inside of her.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.23.2012 @ 12:19 pm
minute
2:00.
His hair was messy.
His eyes were blue.
And the baby was laughing.
2:01.
The car was totaled.
His hands were red.
And the sirens were very loud.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.22.2012 @ 6:51 pm
keen
“I know exactly what I want,” he said, leaning across the table.
The three men in suits cringed backwards. One of them lifted a quivering hand.
“Put the gun down and we’ll talk.”
He laughed, high-pitched for a boy his age.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.18.2012 @ 7:38 pm
cathedral
The stained glass windows were illuminated, glowing orange from the fires raging outside.
He felt the small hand close around his wrist. Squeeze. Then grow limper.
And then came the whisper.
“What are you afraid of?”
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.14.2012 @ 1:00 pm
brief
They kissed precisely once.
After that, it rained every single day.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.13.2012 @ 11:05 am
grind
“I don’t even know your name. Who are you?”
“I’m your favourite song. That’s all you need to know.”
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.08.2012 @ 6:37 am
jelly
“Why do you call me that?”
“I have to rename everything. Otherwise I can’t fall in love.”
She smirked. “Oh, I see.”
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.07.2012 @ 6:31 am
cap
He turned and smiled, one of those peaked soldier’s hats perched at a boyish angle on his head. Folded his arms over his chest. Smirked.
“And you said I’d never make anything of my life.”
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 06.04.2012 @ 6:52 am
reporter
Tell everyone that I am in love.
Tell them that we don’t care what they say.
Tell them she’s got a dress that’s white as snow and a sixpence in her shoe.
Tell them exactly how much her eyes are shining.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 05.30.2012 @ 6:43 pm
pile
“Take it,” he said, shoving it forward with two hands. “Give to them and they won’t bother you again.”
It gleamed softly in the dim overhead light, golden.
Her lip curled. “You keep it.”
In the next second, he was slumped over it, turning every last coin red.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 05.19.2012 @ 11:54 am
separate
They wouldn’t dare.
The dark-haired girl smoothed a loose strand of blonde hair back from her companion’s forehead.
There was, of course, a way to get what they wanted. People died every day.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 05.02.2012 @ 9:11 am
poster
Let’s hang it up. Red. Bright. Shining. Everyone will know this, my sweet girl. As the future is ours, so you shall be my future.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 04.27.2012 @ 10:48 am
popcorn
Firecracker babe Lighting up the theatre with her Bright eyes, sparkler hips
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.26.2012 @ 11:51 am
blast
The room shook and the table cracked.
Everything was torn up.
And when the phone rang in the serene office building miles away, he already knew.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.25.2012 @ 8:22 am
loss
He stood before the great fire and watched it devour until there was nothing left but ashes.
The sleek hair, the familiar jacket, the limp hands. It all burned.
He had to keep reminding himself that the body was not alive.
Likewise, he had to keep reminding himself that he was.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.24.2012 @ 9:32 am
medical
She was not that sort of a doctor.
Rather, she generally made it her business to cause people to require the services of that sort of a doctor.
It was all good business, of course.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.23.2012 @ 7:34 am
gallery
There were more paintings in there than could ever be imagined.
One for every time she was terrified, but lived anyhow.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.22.2012 @ 7:02 am
curse
They never could quite decide whether it was a curse or not.
“Either it is or it isn’t,” said the little one, big eyes flashing.
“Why can’t it be both?” asked the dreamer, tousled hair falling into his eyes. “You’re still pretty, you know.”
“Mmm, and so are you.”
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.21.2012 @ 8:58 am
balloon
It was a red balloon, because red had been their colour.
They viewed everything in terms of what had been theirs, once upon a time.
And out of the green of the forest, into the blue of the sky, they let the balloon go and watched it until it looked smaller than they felt.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.20.2012 @ 7:49 am
chief
They always called him that.
Even after he’d reincarnated too many times to be recognizable.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 02.04.2012 @ 6:55 am
playground
He was one of those eternally youthful types, and he remained so. Even in the dark alleyways and then, further along, behind the prison walls. The bars reminded him of a jungle gym that he’d climbed, ages ago. Everything was a playground, after all.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 09.28.2011 @ 6:47 am
preoccupied
She had enough on her mind. Then all of a sudden, she had too much, and her skull was cracking. If there was a moral to the story, it was pay attention, pay attention. Everything slips away as soon as you aren’t looking at it any longer. Even children. Even life.
Posted By M. Darkweaver On 09.25.2011 @ 5:24 am
